this Yank, en-route from Paris to Denmark in spiffy new Citroën Pallas, noted the many discrete/minimalist signs 'to memorials'; finally exited into a couple or three.

They were immaculate, as if the gardener-army had left just as I arrived. Tasteful Graeco-Roman? structures appeared at a focal point and each cross, star--and ALL the foliage--were almost Too-neat. I was alone in both, maybe three visitations that day.

Contemplation was not forced, simply inevitable as consequence of the utter silence and this clear evidence of such widespread personal loss. (And this was just One 'main route' out of Paris.)
Was naturally reminded too, that 'my clan' also had an entry in that Empire of Thanatos, but I know of no comparable phenomenon here. (I have toured only a tiny sample of U.S. roads, so the sample sizes are ~comparable, I wot.)

Long Live the untarnishable Rep of that inspired-Man: (throughout the War years, at the least)
And even his elocution was utterly Fuck->You! Herr Schikelgrüber and-your legions of goose-steppers.

..we shall fight on the beaches,
we shall fight on the landing grounds,
we shall fight in the fields and in the streets,
we shall fight in the hills,
we shall never surrender ...