The last two years, 1942 and 1943, had caused real anxiety in all of us. Choices are very difficult. Many of my friends had left school to join the service–their seats are draped with the service flag. Graduation from Powhatan Point, Ohio, High School was on a very warm day in May 1943. The empty seats made each of us realize the uncertainty for what our future may hold. I graduated with a scholarship to Ohio State University in music. My first love was music, and I played the trumpet in our band. We also had a small dance band which played music throughout the Ohio Valley. What a night of celebration we all had! It was the first time I ever became drunk. When my Dad finally found me, much to my surprise, he never scolded me. I guess he was aware of the danger that laid ahead. The war was escalating, and the Germans were in control of most of Europe. Like so many young, I was ready to serve and save our country and freedom. We went to the nearest recruiting office in Bellaire, Ohio. Upon arriving there, the line was very long with high school graduates all longing for action, to fight the enemy. When my turn came, the recruiter said, “Well, son, what is your preference?” I requested Air Force but he replied “Sorry, this is infantry week, next week is Air Corp”. So I enlisted in the Infantry. Although my parents were very sad, they tried so hard to be brave and proud.

We were sent to Fort Hayes in Columbus, Ohio where we were given physical examinations. On June 18, 1943 I was shipped to Fort Benjamin Harrison in Indianapolis, Indiana, where I was assigned to the reception center. I remember a newspaper took our picture. We all looked like kids on our way to Boy Scout Camp. From there we went by train west to Camp Haan, located outside of Riverside, California, for basic training. Our training was in the desert center (Fort Irvine was gunnery range for anti-aircraft and Death Valley for maneuvers). It was hell in the heat. Some days the temperature was 120 degrees and at night it was cold. There was always a possibility of a rattlesnake curling up beside you in your sleeping bag to keep warm. For a boy from the cool hills of Ohio to 120 degrees, it was an experience beyond belief. Several of us were bitten by a rattlesnake, but we managed to survive. We became very close, and as fate would have it, we stayed together and became part of the 125th Artillery Battalion.

Occasionally we would have a pass to riverside or L.A. They would have a USO dance, which helped make the weekends more enjoyable. One weekend I even went to Phoenix, AZ with a buddy, as his home was there. Phoenix was a cow town in 1943. It had a theater, a store or two and some place to buy beer. Those days at Camp Haan weren’t all that bad. I was assigned to the Headquarters Division of the 125th AAA gun Bn. The men all became family, and many in the 125th were from the Ohio Valley area. My 1st Sergeant was George W. Barber, who was a WWI Vet. He seemed like an old man, but was probably only 43-45 years old. But we were only 17 or 18. My Captain was Dale Nix, a graduate of Texas AM and in the S2 (Intelligence). He was a rancher from Texas, and a good friend and mentor to me. Operations Officer was Captain Mark Lightfoot (S3).

When we left Camp Haan, we went to Camp Livingston at Lake Charles, LA. I knew it wouldn’t take long before we were shipped out. After several weeks there, we went to Camp Edwards outside Boston, MA. It was there that I ran into a friend from home, Henry Bindle, who had joined the Navy. We were able to spend some time together before I was shipped to England. We didn’t see each other again until 1947.

In September, 943 at the port of embarkation, I boarded the SS Mt. Vernon, a large passenger ship made into a troop ship. The voyage across the North Atlantic was rough, and most of us became seasick. We had a submarine warning, while the convoy was forming. One of the ships got hit–we saw the smoke, but never heard what happened. After about seven days, we landed in South Hampton, England. I was put on a train to the Dover area on the English Channel. The English people were very good to us. My unit was stationed at Dover in Liverpool and Folkestone. We soon learned the horrors of war.

The English had been fighting since 1939. The USA had been sending them help with equipment, etc. In 1941, when Japan bombed Pearl Harbor, the US became involved on both the Western and Eastern Fronts. The Germans were bombing London and had set up a strong defense on the Normandy coast. The English had strong Royal Artillery on the Channel area but they were glad to have help from America. Our Field Artillery had the big guns: 105mm and 90mm.

At first it was planes with bombs and then the Germans were sending VI Rockets, propelled rockets without any control called Buzz Bombs. It was our job to shoot them out of the sky before they reached London. The sound of the VI was like no other. As long as you could hear them it was ok. It was the deadly silence when fear would strike. Just before they hit their target, the motor would go out and then a loud crash and the sound of destruction. The 125th AAA Gun Bn. was set up at Folkestone on the Dover coastline. The GIs were well trained and successfully destroyed 97.8% of the VI bombs. We were credited with destroying 269 VIs.

We had to spot the bomb by radar or visualization information for a direct hit by the gun. We didn’t have calculators in those days. It all had to be done by eye and mind, calculating on a crude rangefinder. The air war went on 24 hour a day and gun crews were at their post continuously. The time in England was not all work and fighting. Most of us were 18 or 19 years old and some recreation was guaranteed. The good old American GIs ingenious nature was to make things happen. One day we improvised cowboy rodeo, with the help of Texas born Captain Nix. This was something the English had never seen. I truly treasure the pictures of Nix riding a bull at the Rodeo.

I also had taken my trumpet with me and was invited to play with a dance band organized with seven American Artillery and seven English Royal Artillery guys. We had a great band called The Ameroanglos. The band played for dances in the ballroom at Lea’s Cliff Hall in Dover. The ballroom was carved out of the chalk cliffs of Dover. The band also played for the BBC (British Broadcast network), which broadcast to the Armed Forces. Glen Miller’s band also played there when on a USO tour. In England I was very fortunate to meet Eddie and Pat Wedgwood. They became very dear friends to this day, and we keep in touch. Eddie was a member of the English Royal Artillery. At this time, even with the destruction in London, the people were great and we still had no idea of the Hell that was to come.

On June 6, 1944, General Eisenhower and the High Command decided there would be a landing on Normandy Beaches. The allies had no idea how heavily guarded the Germans had made the beachhead. They had underground bunkers with their best artillery guarding the beaches. Our stay in England ended on D-Day. The invasion of France was to begin. As we boarded the boats to take us across the English Channel, we had no idea what was to come, but each of us was very scared, as well as anxious, to fight the Germans. There was a storm that day and the water was very rough, and many became ill on the crossing. We thought the beach landing would be a piece of cake. Intelligence was not informed on how heavily enforced the beaches were by the Germans.

Rommel had done everything possible to prevent the landing: barbed wire, and mines going off in every direction. The first wave on the beach was mowed down like animals. I remember going off the front area of the boat into water up to my armpits. I had to hold my rifle above the water. Our boat couldn’t get any closer to the beach because the Germans had put tanks in the water to prevent heavy equipment getting to the beach. I remember seeing a soldier in the water. I thought he was alive, so I held on to him until we got to the shore, only to find he had been shot and most of his face was gone. As we beached under fire by the Germans, the beach water was red with blood, and dead bodies of the men who went before us were strewn all around. It was necessary to keep down and crawl over them. Finally, after many hours and cover fire from the ships that took out some German guns, and thousands of dead GIs, the beachhead was made and we were able to move forward. Many of the officers were killed. The GIs didn’t wait for orders–they did what needed to be done for the situation. It took six days to secure the beach. The Allies had a line from Utah to Juno and Omaha. Nine thousand three hundred sixty GIs were killed and five thousand bodies were never recovered at Omaha Beach.

From the beach area we fought our way to St. Lo. The Air Force had been bombing St. Lo and when we arrived, the town was destroyed, the people and Germans gone. The hedgerows were to come. The hedgerows were mounds of dirt the farmers had built as fences surrounding orchards, farms and houses. Many American died here, as the hedgerows made perfect places for the Germans to take arm. They had tunneled in the mounds and set up machine guns emplacements. The Germans had better armor then we had. The Americans had very few tanks that would navigate the hedgerows. Our tanks were like toys compared to the German tanks. It often took 4 or 5 Sherman tanks to take out a German tank. Our tanks were called “moving graves”. Finally the GIs made an adapter to the front of the tanks from junk steel welded together that acted like a snowplow. We were able to uproot the hedgerows.

The way forward was difficult, for there was a problem getting gas and needed supplies from England when the supply ships ran into trouble. On June 16th, a severe storm came to the Channel and many ships with supplies were unable to land, and some even sank. Not all went well, even with the best plans. Unfortunately, General Montgomery made his first big mistake at Caen, France in the Falaise Gap battle. Many casualties occurred when he didn’t head out of Caen. The battle through the hedgerows would not have been necessary. Montgomery took credit for the Cobra breakout, but truly it was General Bradley who was the one to make the difference on the total breakout from the beaches. General Patton was under Montgomery at this time and had to follow his command. Because of this, the German army was able to escape and retreat. They reorganized to fight later. From here we are on our way to Paris. General Patton took command. The Air Force was welcomed and did their job as expected. The Americans moved more in one day than they had in six. Now organization was put into the battles by combining air, tanks and infantry.

1944 Summer/Fall
Upon reaching the outskirts of Paris, the Americans were stopped. The Free French by General de Gaulle were to be the first to enter Paris. The Germans had left Paris without any organized resistance. They left very little damage to the city. However, there were some snipers still present August 25, 1944.

The British went forward to liberate Brussels, Belgium; we went east to Nylan, Belgium and to Antwerp, Belgium. Getting supplies to the troops became more difficult. Trucks were bringing supplies over land. The truck convoys were called “The Red Ball Express”. The roads were not good in Europe, and rain often made the roads very muddy. Also, the distance became so long, we needed another port to receive supplies. Antwerp became a very important supply route. The British fought to secure the port and we were to set up Artillery (the 125th) outside Antwerp to defend it from the VI Buzz bombs that the Germans sent. The operation was known as “Antwerp X”. It was a highly secret mission. The US Government did not allow any information out about this mission until 50 years ago, after WWII was over. During this time (September 1944) a Buzz Bomb Rocket hit a recreation theater in Antwerp. The children were watching a western movie that afternoon, and 500 died. Russ Elliot and I helped carry many of the children out. The success rate for destroying the VI rockets was 90%. But the V2 Rockets were so fast that radar couldn’t pick them up, and there was no defense.

Battle of the Bulge, December 16 1944 through January 25,1945
World War II continued in 1944 and for a rest after Antwerp X, we were sent to the Bulge area located in Ardennes, Belgium. Winter was on the way. It was said that this was the coldest winter on record for many years. The snow was so deep we could hardly walk. Many of the men had frozen feet and needed amputations. My left foot was frozen, and I was told gangrene would set in if not removed. I kept asking for one more day. By the morning of the next day, circulation began to reappear. We were to have winter clothing and boots, but for some reason the boots were for summer and not waterproof, and no winter clothing was given. ‘

Our unit was started at St. Vith. We were assigned to keep the Germans from coming to the crossroads from Houffalize and prevent the Germans from going further west. Thankfully, we had raincoats. We would sleep in our wet clothes, and most of the time in an army blanket. During this time we could not put up a tent, as there wasn’t time. We were always moving and most nights we spent in foxholes in the snow. When we had a chance, we would get into an old building.

The Ardennes forest was so dense they had to have tanks to knock down the trees to get the large artillery through. The large artillery was set up behind the line and would shoot over the line to the Germans. A B-17 crashed near us while on a bombing run. We picked up several men. All were deceased. One was a general, but at the time we didn’t know that. In combat no stars or badges were worn. If taken prisoner, you didn’t want the Germans to know your rank. Later the story was written up in The Stars and Stripes.

The weather stayed bad for days or weeks–I don’t remember which. But I do remember all the frozen feet and sleeping in the snow. Christmas Day 1944, a German jet was strafing us. It was a brand new model (ME262) jet. The attack caused multiple injuries and fatalities to our men. In the Battle of the Bulge, there were 600,000 Americans and 650,000 Germans. It was the largest land battle of WWII. Three American armies and six Corps, 81,000 GI wounded, 19,000 killed. When the weather finally permitted planes to fly, the 101st in Bastogne had supplies dropped by air.

Winter of 1944 – Spring 1945
General Patton’s 3rd Army and tanks were received with much joy, and the battle began in our favor. General Patton was held up from arriving sooner because of the weather and no gas for his tanks. My unit, the 83rd Infantry Div. 329th Infantry, was sent toward the East (Rhine River), crossing it into Czechoslovakia. The Germans knew the Americans were coming and near the town of Pilsen, the Concentration Camp of Nordhausen was liberated. The Germans guards left or wore civilian clothes so as not to be known as guards. The prisoners in the camp were not able to move, because most were too weak or too sick. Approximately 1/3 of them survived. Near the end of the war was the discovery of the Dachau Concentration Camp. Pilsen was the capital of Czechoslovakia and the prisoners were used by the Germans as slave labor. Where the underground VI Missile flying bomb assembly plant was located, the underground factory had multiple miles of tunnels. When the camps were freed, the Occupational Army took the refuges to another camp to be clothed and fed until they were healthy and able to make decisions for themselves. It was found if they were left alone they would eat and eat. Not mentally able to make a decision until the body became healthy.

After leaving this area, we went on to the Elbe River, going through the Hurtgen Forest. The combat lasted about a week to 10 days. Upon reaching the Elbe River (March 13 or 14, 1945) the crossing was made on a pontoon bridge and small boats brought by the engineers. The engineers were great craftsmen. The area was about 35 miles from Berlin. We waited for the Russians, who came on April 13, 1945. The wait was necessary, for President Roosevelt and Winston Churchill had promised Stalin (the Russian Ruler) that the Russians could take Berlin. The Germans surrendered May 8, 1945.

On September 4, 1994, on the 50th University of Antwerp X and the liberation of Antwerp, Belgium, the Belgium Government celebrated. In 1994 Col. Barkie and I, along with the help of the Veterans from the 125th Gun Bn, dedicated a monument honoring the American Artillery, which shot down 481 VI Buzz Bombs in the defense of Antwerp. The Mayor of Antwerp, Mayor Cools, and the King of Belgium did us a great honor and held a ceremony for the group of Veterans attending. I was honored to lay the wreath on the monument and received the Belgium Flag that covered our monument. It was presented to me by Mayor Cools of Antwerp. The wreath from the USA was laid by Hazel O’Leary, Secretary of Energy, who was sent by President Clinton. The third wreath was sent by the Mayor of Antwerp.

Notes

AFTER 50 YEARS, A FEARFUL INCIDENT TURNED HUMOROUS
by Sam Ballinger, 3rd Army, 26th ID, 328th IR, Co E

It was Christmas Eve at midnight, 1944, when we started out across a snow covered field to take the town of Eschdorf to relieve the pressure on Bastogne. Our squad walked up a road on the right side of town when all hell broke loose. Heavy and light German tanks painted white started running among us like fire engines looking for a fire. Three of us ducked into a barn filled with cows. The rest of my squad went to the left and took cover behind an old wooden barn. A tank’s machine gun fired right through the barn killing all nine men of my squad.

We were unnoticed in the barn until the afternoon when the three of us were moving in the barn past a large open doorway. Two white clad Germans were approaching to enter the barn. We saw them first and brought them down and dragged their bodies inside where they couldn’t be seen. From then on, all we thought of was an attack on our barn. Surely they would miss those two soldiers, but it was deathly quiet the rest of the day and through the night We survived by drinking milk from the cows and moving around to keep from freezing.

The next morning, my buddy came running to me saying, “Hurry Ballinger, they’re coming!” We all ran to that side of the barn and peered out through the cracks. There was a hedge just beyond the barn, and there they were, white forms moving down along the other side of the hedge towards the barn. They seemed to be coming after us in full force. Fear struck me, but I didn’t panic. My body was numb and my mind was frozen with the thought of being among the casualties, because they weren’t taking any prisoners. The field outside was littered with dead GI’s. I kept peering through the cracks when I saw red parts moving also. After a few seconds, I gave a sigh of relief. Being a farm boy, I realized those white forms weren’t the white clad Germans, they were white leghorn chickens scratching for food. I could have shot my buddy, Gonzales, for scaring the hell out of us.

Soon after this, a battle broke loose at the other end of town. The sky cleared and the P-47’s of the 9th Air Force were bombing and strafing anything that was a target I decided we’d better make a run for it while the enemy was busy and before they bombed our barn. We ran about 1,000 yards across a cow pasture with barb wire fences to distant woods and safety.

Of course there is more to this story about the Battle of Eschdorf, but after reading many books, I still don’t know what really happened to the rest of my Company that Christmas Day. I left the line with trench foot and spent 2 1/2 months in a hospital, and was then assigned to limited service.

Remembering World War II and the Battle of the Bulge
by Philip Walsh, 2^nd AD, 66^th AR, Co C

I was 18 years old when I got my draft notice from President Franklin Roosevelt.  It was 1943. The notice read “greetings from President Roosevelt” and went on to say I was drafted to the US Army. I had never been away from home before and I wondered if I would return home to Maine.

I was sent to Fort Devon’s, Massachusetts, for a few weeks where I received my army uniform and medical shots.  I recall walking down a narrow hallway and got shots in both of my arms. The fellow in front of me passed out after receiving his. I can still hear the guys who had already got their shots saying “you will be sorry.” They were right. They also warned me to watch out for the square needle that’s left in overnight.  I found out to my relief they were just kidding because I was a new recruit.

From there I was sent to Fort Knox, Kentucky, for 21 weeks of tank training. I remember being homesick, went to see the doctor, a major, who gave me some pink pills and said I would be fine.  I wasn’t.  I was still homesick. When our training ended we were sent to Fort George Meade, Maryland, for advanced training. Then I was sent to Camp Shanks, New York, to board the Aquitania for Europe.

I recall when we landed in Greenock, Scotland some Scottish girls greeted us and gave us muffins filled with meat. I took one bite and threw it out.  It tasted awful to me. We left Scotland by train to England.  By the time I arrived in England I was no longer homesick. It was more than 6 months since I left Maine. The war was underway, and by this time I figured I’d never get home alive.

When I was sent to France I was assigned to Company C 66 Armored Regimen, 2^nd Armored Division. Afterward I was deployed to Omaha Beach in June – six days after D-Day.  When I landed I asked the Beach Master if many men were killed. He said if anymore were killed no one would have gotten ashore. I remember one solider, in particular who landed on the beach with me. He was from the southern part of the States and was assigned to another tank because tank commander, Lt. Johnson, also from the south, picked him for his crew because of the connection to the south.

This was the first day in battle for us. Lt. Johnson’s tank was heading down a road between a row of hedges rows and ran over a mine.  The explosion blew a track off the tank. The crew climbed out of the tank, started to crawl on the ground and a mortar shell landed on the back of the soldier from the south. All that was left of him was a piece of his fly and belt buckle. It was terrifying.  Later I was told that Lt. Johnson was planning to get married in Paris after the war and arranged to have his bride’s wedding dress made from a parachute.  Unfortunately he was killed outside of Berlin at close range by one of Hitler’s Youth with a Panzer Faust bazooka after he stepped outside of his tank.

We were never told where we would be deployed or given any details.  That was one thing I didn’t like about the Army.  After Omaha Beach we were sent to another location in France. We were on the front line for 21 days with the Germans firing at us from a train with artillery guns. I remember it sounded like a freight train coming at us. Three crew members and I barely left tank for the entire 21 days. It was too dangerous to stay outside for any length of time due to the constant shelling from the Germans.  We had to be extremely careful.

The ground around the tank was all torn up from shelling and the mud was a foot thick. Every time someone left the tank they would get about two inches of mud on their boots. I remember getting mud dropped on my shoulders whenever the tank commander, a schoolteacher, climbed back into the tank after checking our surroundings. I was seated at the machine gunner’s seat and there wasn’t any room to move.  It was very tight quarters inside the tank.  I also recall when the lieutenant was injured after a shell struck the side of the tank when he was underneath trying to cook a meal with a Coleman Burner.  He was taken to the aid station.

We had an opportunity to take prisoners. Seven Germans waving a white flag tried to surrender to us. One of our crew members fired at them and they took off.

After 21 days in France we were on the move again, this time to Germany. We arrived to a location that looked like a park and were able to sleep outside on the ground. One morning when I awoke, I noticed the tank was leaking. I looked inside and saw about three inches of gasoline on the bottom of the tank.  A new replacement had changed the fuel filters incorrectly on both Cadillac engines.

Our next deployment was to Bastogne for combat at the Battle of the Bulge where I remained for the duration of the conflict. It was winter, freezing cold, and I drove an open top half track 100 miles in the pouring rain to Bastogne. Somewhere along the way I drove off the road.  I was very tired, soaking wet and it was difficult to see because there were no headlights. I accidentally backed into Captain A.Z. Owen’s tank. He hollered “get that man’s name.”  I was afraid he would send me to jail.  He didn’t do anything.

When we arrived at our destination near Bastogne we were exhausted and cold. We pitched our pup tents in the freezing temperatures and went to sleep shivering.  What amazes me now as I think back about sleeping in soaking wet, heavy Army clothes with my shoes frozen to the ground is that I never caught a cold.

Our tank was parked next to a farmhouse. The family living in the home felt sorry for us staying outside in the cold and they invited us in to dry our clothes and get warm. We stayed with them for several nights.  Unfortunately one of the soldiers flirted constantly with the homeowner’s wife. The husband got fed up and told us all to leave.

One time we liberated a couple of chickens and some vegetables from a Belgium farmhouse and I cooked it in a 5-gallon can. You cannot imagine how good this tasted on a cold day especially after living on K and K rations. It was the best chicken soup I had ever eaten. A captain from Georgia said to me, “Walsh where did you get the chickens from?” Another soldier spoke up and said he got a package from the states. This seemed to satisfy the captain who helped himself to the soup without asking any more questions.

Later during the battle I was asked to drive this same captain in a jeep to a command post set up in a house near Bastogne. When we arrived we saw the T/5 Sergeant who had flooded our tank with gas when he was assigned to our crew in France. He was on duty at the command post and did not salute the captain in my jeep. The captained yelled to the T/5 sergeant “Salute me.”  He obeyed.

When the Battle of the Bulge ended, I was deployed to Berlin. We were the first troops to arrive in Berlin after World War II ended.  I was transferred to the 12^th Armored Division and sent to Marseilles, France where I prepared to go home.  It was 1946. I am proud to have served my country, but I wouldn’t want to go through this again.

For the citizens of Assenois, the arrival of the German forces was the worst Christmas present imaginable. Assenois had little appreciable military value. It did not sit atop high ground, nor was it a highway hub like its neighbor to the north, the town of Bastogne. Its location was astride a road that linked Bastogne with the town of Remichampagne, which was south of Assenois. Other than that, it was meaningless.

One of the matriarchs of Assenois remembered those dark days. Her name was Madame Denyse de Coune, and she owned a chateau along the northern outskirts of town. With several arched gables and thick stone walls, the great house looked more like a quaint castle. Since it was a large building, it had a several cellars, and as a result, when the fighting drew closer to Assenois, many area families sought refuge under its stone walls. The shelling had started on Wednesday evening, the 20^th of December, and for the next twenty-four hours, the battle see-sawed back and forth, but by the morning of the 22^nd, the Germans were in control of Assenois and had pushed westward. For all the fighting, the cost was to the town was minor: only one civilian lay dead.

On the 23^rd, a German feldwebel (sergeant) from Vienna had approached the matriarch and asked her if they could set up an office within the chateau. Thirty minutes later, he and his staff section were gone, but another unit replaced them.  As it turned out, the staff of the 39^th Fusilier Regiment also wanted a comfortable locale for their headquarters. With its dense walls and subterranean vaults, the German volksgrenadiers had decided that it was a great spot to command and control their regiment. Oberstleutnant Walter Kaufmann, the commander of the 39^th Fusilier Regiment, and a Oberleutnant Specht, the commander of its 1^st Battalion, agreed, and they moved in once the phone lines and radio transmitters were active.

Unbeknownst to the Madame de Coune, the 39^th Fusiliers were part of a much larger operation. For several days, the 39^th, together with the rest of its division, the 26^th Volksgrenadier, had been locked in combat with the 101^st Airborne Division, trapped inside Bastogne. The Germans needed to capture the town to dissipate the traffic jams, which were clogging up their supply lines. So far, the 101^st successfully had resisted every German attempt to seize the vital road net. More important, the Germans were running out of time because Lieutenant General George S. Patton’s Third Army was pushing its way north towards Bastogne. In fact, Assenois was one of the towns that were between Patton and Bastogne.

By the 24^th, the Germans were everywhere inside the chateau, as if they had been living there for years. Even worse, the growing presence of German vehicles and troops outside the house made it a tempting target for the American P-47 Thunderbolts, flying above them like birds of prey. As evidence, one group of fighter-bombers strafed the building on Christmas Eve day, but thankfully, the sturdy walls were too much for the bullets, which bounced harmlessly off them like rain drops. Walls, though, would be useless against bombs.

That night, while everyone in the Christian world celebrated Christmas Eve, the German soldiers stole some of the chickens from the de Coune farm for their own Christmas feast. Another landser (German term for soldier), out of kindness, brought American biscuits to feed the hungry children. No doubt, the soldier had found them, since the German soldiers had little food from their own supply chain. To keep up morale, the refugees then sang Christmas carols to each other while the parents regaled their children with stories of the Comtesse de Segur, who was a Russian born, French novelist.

The following Christmas morning started out well. Mrs. Augustus de Coune baked some bread and served it with roasted chicken. As the morning dragged on, more and more refugees arrived, and they were not the only ones seeking shelter. By midday, more German soldiers showed up, demanding sanctuary from the American bombs and artillery. Hearing this, Madame Denyse de Coune shook her head in dismay because she knew the corridors were overcrowded. Someone had to go, and the German soldiers ejected her and the rest of the civilians.

Like Babylonian exiles, they grabbed whatever they could carry. Most only brought a blanket and some bread, and they left for nearby sand dunes, which had been a hideout for the resistance during the long German occupation. When they arrived, they discovered that the shelters were gone. For the next thirty hours, the refugees would be homeless. At least, thought Madame de Coune, the frozen pine trees looked like Christmas trees. That night, they slept under the stars like the shepherds outside of Bethlehem. Nearby, the Germans had set up an artillery battery, and it was firing at the American forces in Bastogne. The paratroopers replied with their own counter battery, and the rounds from the American artillery fell dangerously close to the refugees.

Meanwhile, the tankers and infantrymen of Combat Command Reserve of the 4^th Armored Division prepared themselves for combat. They had been fighting almost non-stop since the 22^nd of December, and now they were closing in on the prize – the town of Bastogne. While Madame de Coune and the other banished families huddled in the freezing cold, Lieutenant Colonel Creighton W. Abrams, the commander of the 37^th Tank Battalion, was leading a combined-arms task force. Several hours earlier, Abrams’ men had captured the town of Remoiville, which was three kilometers south of Assenois.

The following morning, the 26^th of December, Abrams began the final drive into Bastogne. First, they overran a German panzergrenadier company in Remichampagne. By noon, Abrams’ forces were just to the south of Clochimont. Only the town of Assenois was between his tankers and the beleaguered paratroopers in Bastogne. Alas, most of the inhabitants of the small village were recent arrivals from the 39^th Fusilier Regiment, ensuring that the ride through Assenois would be fraught with danger.

Outside of the town, Madame de Coune watched the beginning of Abrams’ historic assault. In preparation for the final push, P-47 Thunderbolts swept over the town, plastering it with napalm while showering the German defenders with lead from their eight, blazing .50 caliber machine guns. Explosions rocked the forest where the refugees were hiding, causing the trees to tremble and shed their snowy blankets.

After the Thunderbolts, the twenty-six exiles next watched a procession of C-47 transport planes pass over them. Then, like manna from heaven, hundreds of parachutes began to appear, as aircraft crews delivered supplies to the surrounded paratroopers. Luckily for the families, which included seventeen children, many of the para-packs were stuffed with biscuits, cheese, and best of all, chocolate. For the hungry refugees, the food lifted their morale.

The feast did not last long. Towards the end of the afternoon, Madame de Coune watched as a column of American tanks and halftracks lined up south of Assenois. Then, with guns blazing, the column snaked its way through the narrow village streets and broke through to the other side. She described the vehicles as “spitting fire.” Next, she saw the American forces push the German defenders eastward and into her neighbors’ homes. Now, it was the Americans’ turn to surround the Germans. Some fought, but most of them eventually surrendered.

By early evening, Madame de Coune reckoned the fighting was over, and she led the exiled families back into Assenois where they discovered that her home had not escaped the fighting unscathed. Four artillery shells had penetrated the roof, leaving gaping holes for the rain and snow, and the same shells shattered many of the windows. Despite this hardship, the families of Assenois were once again free.  The tankers and infantrymen of the 4^th Armored Division had liberated them.

submitted by by Leo Barron, Associate