Battle of the Bulge Christmas Eve

 

Kinkeade village under threat of danger

 We put up our tree end of November because we wanted to put it up. Our Thomas Kinkade Christmas village is nestled under the tree. 

With our peculiar sense of humor, we placed a polar bear statue from Alaska in the middle of this idyllic world. The townspeople are unaware of what lies in wait for them.

We can afford to be silly like this. We are in our house, safe and warm. Nothing lies in wait for us or threatens us.

With all the Christmas celebrating we will do or decorations that blink around us, the calendar and history reveal to us more about our time on earth.

December 16, 1944 marked the start of the Battle of the Bulge and its month long battle in the Ardennes region of Belgium.  This battle resulted in the deaths of 75,000 soldiers. Nearly 19,000 were from the 101st. They were surrounded by Germans, helpless. Being vital, being pivotal, 101st Airborne Division held onto their precarious part of history.

Brutally cold, with temperatures dropping to just below zero, 101st were alone, cut off from help, rations, and warm clothing. Dug in the snow, troops struggled to stay alive. They were down to the last few rounds of ammunition.

Christmas eve, December 24, 1944, was the day when Allied troops and air support broke through crippling weather front that had isolated troop 101st Airborne. That day made a difference. The 101st made a difference.

Christmas morning in 1944, seventy-five years ago, shows just how brave men grasped, clutched, and carried history all the way to us.

 

 

 YouTube

While we celebrate the birth of Jesus Christ's birth, also celebrate and honor the courage and sacrifice given by the 101st Airborne Army Division. God provided for their needs, kept them alive.

An excellent movie, Battleground, is praised by the military that fought there.

Peace or War or Peace

The world was tired of war.  When WW1 came to an end in 1918, people were ready for wrapping up their countries in a tight blanket and looking inward. 

Peace or War

As America recovered from the Depression, economy was up and down. Talk of war was hovering in the air, but it was "over there in Europe", it was their problem.

Pinterest

Cost of living

Wizard of Oz 1939

No to War

A day never forgotten

TV for all

YouTube authentic film Pearl Harbor

Dec. 11, 1941

 The blanket had to be unwrapped, people were enraged. So the world had to look around, again. 

K is for Kindness

The A to Z Geniuses

When one of our loved ones (adult, fully capable, with some common sense) sets out on a lengthy trip, we pray.  We hope for safety.  We try not to think about all the what-ifs. 

When our son "Victor" returned from two week biking in Germany and Switzerland, he told of one of the what-ifs.

“I mis-judged this part of the Alps. And the ascent, how steep it was. Then it started raining, a hard cold rain that nearly blew my poncho off.  By the time I reached the summit, my thighs were knotted and cramping.

Mont Blanc, the highest mountain in the Alps, My son was never near it.

I was freezing, I started doing exercises, flapping my arms, anything to keep warm.  A few energy bars in the saddle bag, but not enough to refuel.  My map app showed how far it was to the next town.  It wasn’t that far, maybe twenty miles.

It was a slick downhill ride.  Rain in my face, soaked me to the skin.  Dark sky, no moon, just my bike lights to show me ten feet ahead.  Cold, bitter cold.  Shivering so hard that handlebars vibrated.

Then lights ahead, a hotel. Started crying, so relieved.  Pulled on the door handle and found it was locked. Closed for the night.  Pounded on the door. Any one there?

Then the door opened.  A woman about my mom’s age, rounded and hands on hips.  She said something in German.  Then she grabbed and pulled me inside.

She acted just my mom.  Didn’t understand her, but she put me in a room with towels and a hot shower, so nice, down the hall.  Putting my gear near the heater, heard her calling.

Like Mom, for sure.  Sit down here!  Eat! Eat more!  And then she probably said something like this: WHAT did you THINK you were DOING?!

I fell into the best bed in the world and slept hard. There was a huge breakfast waiting for me, and a bag of bratwurst and cheese.  Plus some more mom-words.

I don’t know what I would have done if she hadn’t opened that door.  If she hadn’t been so….kind.

After a 60 mile jaunt

338 words

"You just write to me!"

Source: Billy Frank Alexander

Maps of Germany showed red lines, large red dots, and blurred words.  Allies crossed out more villages, roads and train tracks each day.  “You, Collier, yeah, you… Sgt. Giant Ben, get your butt over here! You old farm boy, what’d your mama feed you?”

“Giant” Ben, all six feet and eight inches of him, was a farmer.  Folks always said that he didn't need a horse to pull the plow…well, why would he?  The man could lift a horse!  We shoulda called him “Big Ben”, but he don't like it much. 

This day Ben led his division ahead of the red lines into an unknown village, abandoned by all.

“You, Zeke and Pop, flank the perimeter!  Watch your step, don’t be stupid!” Unlike other infantry, Ben left the profanity when D-Day happened.  A promise to God, or something. “Vinnie!***  You and Drip come with me to the church.  AND watch where you walk!”

Seconds later explosions reverberated in the air, throwing up dust and rocks.

 Zeke and Pop disappeared in pieces, without a scream or time for one.  The church trailed its own explosions, one two three, throwing Ben back out to the cobblestones.  Vinnie screamed as leg bones shattered, and Drip dropped in the vestibule, skin on face and arms shredded and burned.

Ben crawled to his knees, his ears ringing.  Zeke…Zeke…Pop! Sound out! Vinnie? You hear me?  Drip, oh dear God, Drip!

I gotta save’em.  Gotta, gotta! “Vinnie?  Oh man!” as he saw the legs crooked.  “Drip?  Oh, no, Drip!  Is that you?”  Strands of skin hung loose on his unconscious friend.

Gotta find Zeke and Pop! as he staggered to the perimeters, only to find the scattered remains. Get back, gotta get back.  Vinnie. Drip. Vinnie…speaking in rhythm.

For a giant, Ben moved quickly, darn fast.  Set the bones, don’t hear the screams!  Wrap Drip’s face with gauze!  Don’t weep, don’t cry.

“Vinnie…now listen, listen up good.  I gotta carry Drip back to the lines.  You gotta hold on to me, wrap your arms around my neck!  You hear?!

Vinnie bit back the pain.  “Sarg, I can hold onto you all the way back to the Bronx.”

The giant scooped up Drip with Vinnie enveloping his arms around Ben’s shoulders and neck. 

Each step he counted, one…two…three…until he arrived at the med tent, refusing help as he gently lay Drip onto the surgical gurney.  Then Ben placed Vinnie on the cot as a swarm of medical staff filled the room.  

Before Vinnie passed out, he grabbed Giant Ben by the arm.  “You need anything, anything at all, you just write to me, let me know!  You…you…”  Then blessed morphine kicked in.

Sergeant Giant Ben Collier crawled out the tent and collapsed on sand bags. 

How far had he walked?  Ben wondered about that for a few days.  2,000 steps? Maybe 3,000? Long legs…I don’t know…it don’t matter.

***This is the back story for a previous post "Eyes of the Soul" where Vinnie is now Vincent.  He is given letter from Illinois, delivered by Belinda McFadden.