I’m sure everyone here is more than familiar with The Battle of The Bulge, Hitler’s final counter-offensive. The 949th FA Bn shifted around quite a bit, not being an organic component of any particular Division, Corps or Group within the Third Army. When Gen. Patton turned the Third Army a “hard left” for the race to Bastogne, the 949th had been part of the 193rd FA Group, but was reassigned to the 404th FA Group of the III Corps on 20 Dec 1944 and attached to the 26th Infantry Division. As most know, this had been the coldest winter in Europe in nearly twenty years, accompanied by deep snow, making this drive by the Third Army an amazing feat. As a 155mm Howitzer battalion, the 949th’s assignment was General Support to the Division. Dad used to tell this story on Christmas Eve when I was growing up. Although I heard it many times, I never seemed to tire of it. Christmas Eve found them in the Ardennes. The plan was for the Catholic Chaplain to celebrate a Midnight Mass. The fellows located a barn they could use for the service. Being under strict blackout conditions, they had to seal every little crack and crevice in the walls, windows and doors, so no light showed outside. To do so, they scrounged every blanket, extra pair of socks, clothing and anything else they could find. They took a couple of bales of straw and used this for the altar, upon which the priest placed a single candle. As the Mass progressed in this tightly enclosed space, the moisture from everyone’s breath condensed on these bitterly cold walls and roof, instantly freezing into an infinite array of ice crystals. The net effect was this single candle now illuminated the interior of this barn like a huge crystal chandelier. My father described it as an almost mystical aura, as if the Christmas Star itself lit their surroundings. This combined with the setting in this barn or stable made Dad think this certainly must have been like it was to have been there at the manger the night the Christ Child was born. I’ve thought about that story a lot as the years have gone by. The older I get, the greater my appreciation for what this must have meant for him and the other GI’s who were there that night. There, halfway around the world, in the midst of the fiercest combat and unbelievably harsh conditions most of us will never know was a brief interlude of peace and calm. A time to reflect on what Christmas really means with people who were simply thrown together, forming the tightest of bonds few of us could ever understand. My kids still ask me to retell this story on Christmas Eve as we celebrate Wigilia, a Chistmas Eve tradition my grandparents brought with them from Poland. I have to admit I still get choked up as it’s one of those times I truly miss Dad and wish he was there to celebrate with us. "Peace on Earth- Good Will Toward Men” Let us remain hopeful that one day war will be no more that an academic exercise of discussion. Let us keep all of our Service Men and Women in our thoughts and prayers this Season and hope for their safe return soon. With that I wish all of you a Merry Christmas!
Great story Doc! Thanks so much for sharing this! These personal accounts of what life was like over there are really great!
DocCasualty:- Thanks for a wonderful story about your Dad and those days. Was with the 3rd Army so I think maybe, just maybe, I appreciate the content and value of such a story with the vivid memories at this time of the year. I don't think I have ever been that cold before or since. Sgtleo
What a wonderfully moving story. I always think of the Bulge at this time of year. When I lived in France we often used to get Ardennes weather; it's never quite like that here in the UK. Thanks for sharing that with us.
One of my Uncles never recalled Christmas very fondly after the Ardennes. He was a member of 422nd Infantry 106th ID. He spent Christmas of 44 (and the rest of the war) as a guest of the Reich. I still remember him saying " Yeah so it's Christmas, big F'in deal." I think he went back in his head around that time of year.
I just can't imagine the horror of being a POW. Seems it would be next to impossible to ever get it completely out of one's conciousness. So sad that a time of year which should reflect joy and hope, took him back to what was probably the darkest time in his life. Thanks for sharing such a sobering memory, Chutes.
Wow, DocCasualty...thank you for sharing this small story. I can only hope to imagine how wonderful it must have been inside that barn for your dad and his friends. Thank you very much for sharing this with us.
