A little more than 80 years ago, Gen. Dwight Eisenhower began preparing a message that he never wanted to deliver.

“Our landings in the Cherbourg-Havre area have failed to gain a satisfactory foothold and I have withdrawn the troops,” he wrote. “My decision to attack at this time and place was based upon the best information available. The troops, the air and the Navy did all that bravery and devotion to duty could do. If any blame or fault attaches to the attempt, it is mine alone.”

We know what happened, of course. D-Day went ahead on June 6, 1944. The Normandy invasion succeeded. The undelivered note went back into Ike’s pocket, a curiosity to be periodically resurrected by novelists, historians and the odd local columnist. (Read that however you will.)

It’s living alternate history, a brief peek into a world that thankfully never was. But there’s an additional bit that gets mentioned less frequently.

Eisenhower underlined the last two words. “If any blame or fault attaches to the attempt, it is mine alone.”

In so many ways, that’s a dividing line between then and now. Or maybe just between one type of character and another.

No one likes to admit failure. Apologies are an uncomfortable moment of vulnerability, especially for those who hold any sort of power. And over the years, we’ve heard a lot of alternatives.

Denial. Redirection. Bluster. And of course, the infamous non-apology apology, such as “I’m sorry if anyone was offended.” All of it adds up to the same four words: “It’s Not My Fault.”

It’s a safer place. A place where blame rests with the universe. Or the listener. Or anybody else at all that doesn’t happen to be Yours Truly.

But it’s also a place where nothing can move forward.

If no one takes responsibility, nothing can be fixed. If no one apologizes, nothing can heal. And if acknowledging error becomes a sign of weakness, that leaves room for nothing but arrogance as invulnerable egos collide and try to overwhelm each other.

We know better than this. Or at least, we should.

Acknowledge what happened. Own whatever responsibility is yours. Find a way to do better. The same basics apply, from preschoolers to politicians.

Or even generals on a stormy June day with the world in the balance.

Another D-Day anniversary has passed. The lessons still remain. Including the lessons of honesty, humility and responsibility shown in a brief handwritten note.

Then and now, you have to know where to draw the line.