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“The Battle of the Bulge”
— Catherine Wilson
(We watched a PBS 2002 documentary last evening. It was brutal. Forgive this attempt to process the horror.)
Published in General
Thank you, Trink.
Thanks Trink. That was my Dad’s little piece of WWII.
Western Chauvinists’ and mine too. Dad was assigned to Patton, 3rd Army. He was in charge of an anti-aircraft battery.
I’m speechless. Beautifully written.
Like your avatar, BTW.
Your kind words warm a tired heart this evening.
Thank you so much.
(Perhaps you recognize the Reagan statue at Hillsdale College:)
Didn’t know it was at Hillsdale College, but there’s no mistaking who the statue is.
I saw the moving poem below on a memorial at the Foy American Cemetery just outside of Bastogne.
Oh my. . . Thank you so much for sharing these words.
We owe so much.
My father-in-law’s, too. He never talked about it, never complained.
How we have squandered such sacrifice.
My husband and I are sitting here over our coffee on this gray morning – having that conversation. We need the sun to come out. Dark. Dark,
This is a paper copy of the radio message that my dad asked for while serving aboard the USS Sand Lance. He was 17 when he enlisted, and in combat at 18 in the Submarine Service in the Pacific. He was 19 when the war ended.
This is truly a treasure. We owe so very, very much.
Think. 17.
And this: ” May God rest the gallant souls of those missing presumed lost.”
Amen.
Dad just found something tucked into the back of one of Grandma’s scrapbooks.
Are we still allowed to use that word, you know, Japs?
I doubt it. They hadn’t officially surrendered yet though, so screw ’em.
Ronald Reagan’s Normandy speech, June 6, 1984:
Oh Marci . . . Thank you, thank you . .
Keith and I just listened to Reagan’s moving tribute to the courage of the men who risked all, some who gave all – to vanquish the forces of tyranny. It’s so big. We owe so much.
I am overwhelmed by this the older I get.
I’m also annoyed at how much we human beings complain about how hard life is. I keep putting myself in Eisenhower’s shoes at the beginning of the war and looking at that world map. I don’t know how he bore the responsibility he did.
Marci, We watched “The Darkest Hour” again. And you and I are in exactly the same place. “Overwhelmed.” The decisions these men had to make. As I’ve aged – I’ve become more aware of the fragility of life . . .of our great good luck in having been born where and when we were . . . and how the young just aren’t in touch with . . . aren’t aware of the struggle and sacrifice that has made their comfortable lives possible.
It’s so big.
You wrote that? I am beyond impressed.
The Battle of the Bulge was the only part of the war my grandfather ever talked about. And he mostly talked about the cold. He never talked about landing in the second wave on Utah Beach.
As a rather large man, he used to joke that he fought the battle of the bulge and then patting his stomach said “and I still fighting it”.
You sweetie :) Thank you
The poem almost wrote itself. We watched that 2002 PBS documentary about the Battle of the Bulge. The interview of the old soldier who tried unsuccessfully to end his friend’s agony was the most painful thing I’ve ever watched.
We owe so very, very much to those young men who and fought and died for the cause of freedom.
Oh Living. Thank you so much for sharing your thoughts about your grandfather – his service and his great sense of humor. There are so few now, and soon they all will be gone.
My father’s Vmail letter home after nearly being killed in WWII:
“Dear Mom & Dad, I’m sorry I wasn’t able to answer your letters but they have kept us pretty busy. I’ll answer your letters sometime today or tomorrow. Mom, I was slightly wounded in Germany, but don’t worry about it. I am feeling fine right now and hope to get out of this hospital soon. I guess you’ll get a letter or telegram from the government telling you that I was wounded, and I say again don’t let it frighten you. The weather is beautiful over here, and I hope it’s the same in Ky. I received one of your five pound boxes about two weeks ago. I’ll sign off now Mom and don’t worry. Love Bob.”
He was wounded by German grenade shrapnel lacerating his liver as his life threatening injury.
Wonderful! You all must be so proud! We are blessed to have young men like your nephew protecting our country, our way of life.
And your father’s note of reassurance to your mother. What a good, caring man. That was a very serious injury. But he came home to his mother’s embrace. Wow.
Trink, you’ll get no argument from me. What is that expression? Oh yea, “freedom ain’t free.” Purchased and maintained in blood, sweat and tears.
Your poem made me think of G.K.Chesterton’s poetry. And Kipling’s.
WW II never had nearly as many laureates as WW I. You p0em is a worthy addition to the athenaeum. I hope it finds a wider audience.❤️👏👏
My father, age 19, was in that battle, as was his brother, age 18. Both survived, but I’m sure they were never the same afterwards. Dad was wounded by artillery shrapnel and my uncle had pretty severe frostbite. The fighting was over for them. They both had issues with Eisenhower for the rest of their lives.
I cannot hear the term, “white male privilege” without immediately thinking of them terrified and freezing in France.
Oh dear friend. You are too kind – and I am glowing for it – as I sit beside a window staring into a gray spring that won’t be spring. (It’s been a little crazy and I’ve not participated as I’d like on these pages. A few more weeks at the rudder should steady things) Thank you for your encouragement.