31 January 1945

438^th AAA AW BN

APO 230 % Postmaster, N.Y.

31 January, 1945      0945

My dearest darling –

It’s raining today and just as warm as can be. It’s sure raising hell with the snow and I see no tears being shed. A native told me yesterday that it wasn’t at all unusual to have a week’s rain in early February, followed by 3 or 4 days of strong wind. Everything dries up then according to him – and that’s the end of the snow. Sounds good, dear, if true.

But the news from Russia sounds even better, and following our Operations map each day is really fun. It seems as if almost anything can happen from here in, and it’s about time – if you ask me, darling.

Last night I stayed around the Dispensary and played cribbage with the Dentist. Usually we hang around the C.P. of an evening. I got to bed about 2200 – which is earlier than usual.

I was just re-reading a letter of yours written 13 December, dear. You had been over to see my folks – and although you don’t say too much about it, I know how difficult things must be at times; but be patient, sweetheart, it will be much easier when I get back. Easy or hard though, you’re finding out a whole lot more about me than I know of you. Do you realize how little I actually know about your early days, dear? I never had the opportunity to sit around with your folks and talk about you – but I’m not worried in the least – and anyway – I’d just as soon find out from you. You also mention marriage, “honeymoon and rest”. That’s the usual order too, sweetheart, particularly the rest. But if you intended to imply that I’d need a rest after being in the war – that won’t be necessary at all. I hear a lot of enlisted men and officers say that when they get home – they’re going to use some of the money they’ve saved – for an extended vacation. I can’t see that at all. Personally – I’ll be very anxious to get started on whatever I’m going to do – and the sooner the better – it seems to me. I’m not very tired – physically – and anything outside of the Army will be a pleasure.

Boy – I got a real kick out of your Shirley ‘Burton’ story. I had no idea that Leonard wrote plays also. He really is talented isn’t he? And where did Shirley get her dramatic training? She’s quite a girl – and it seems as if I didn’t appreciate all her qualities when I met her.

And darling – here I’ve been celebrating my Birthday for about 10 days and I almost forgot to mention it. I hate to write it – but your ‘surprise’ has not yet materialized – but it makes no difference about the date, darling. I’ll be surprised whatever and whenever it is. That’s fair enough – isn’t it? The mail still fails to assume any regularity and there’s nothing to be done about it. I have one bottle of cognac left and tonite we’ll open it and have a mild celebration. But my thoughts, love and heart are with you today – as always and just chalk up one more special day we owe each other.

Have to stop now, sweetheart – sick-call is beginning. I love you, love you, love you! Never forget that!! Best to the folks

All my sincerest love

Greg

* TIDBIT *

about Shirley "Burton"


Shirley Bernstein, Arthur Levine and Leonard "Lenny" Bernstein

When Greg mentioned "the Shirley 'Burton' story", he must have been responding to Wilma's mention of Leonard and Shirley Bernstein's involvement with the play "On the Town" when it opened at New York's Adelphi Theatre on 28 December 1944. Shirley had been Wilma's roommate at Mount Holyoke College, and Wilma naturally followed Lenny's early career, keeping in touch with Shirley.

"On the Town" was an original Broadway musical comedy about three sailors on a day of shore leave in New York City looking for fun and romance before their twenty-four hours are up.

Lenny, Jerome Robbins, Betty Comden and Adolph Green
Rehearsing for "On the Town", 1944

The music was written by Leonard Bernstein and orchestrated by Lenny and four others. The lyrics were written primarily by Betty Comden and Adolph Green, with additional lyrics by Leonard Bernstein. The screenplay by Betty Comden and Adolph Green was based on an idea by Jerome Robbins. It was directed by George Abbott and choreographed by Jerome Robbins.

On opening night, the following were among the cast: Sono Osato as Ivy Smith, Nancy Walker as Hildy Esterhazy, Cris Alexander as Chip, John Battles as Gabey, Robert Chisholm as Pitkin W. Bridgework, Betty Comden as Claire deLoone, Adolph Green as Ozzie, Ray Harrison as The Great Lover, Susan Steell as Madame Maude P. Dilly, and Maxine Arnold as Little Old Lady. And among the "Singing Ensemble" was one Shirley Ann Burton.

Knowing the story of the Bernstein family unravels the connection between Shirley Ann Burton and Shirley Anne Bernstein. It turns out that Leonard and Shirley had a brother named "Burton." In order to perform without appearing to be related to Leonard, Shirley simply used her brother's name as her "stage" last name.

Shirley, Lenny and Burton "Bertie" Bernstein, 1949

Lenny was born Louis Bernstein on 25 August 1918 in Lawrence, Massachusetts, the son of Ukrainian Jewish parents Jennie and Samuel Bernstein. His family spent their summers at their vacation home in Sharon, Massachusetts. His grandmother insisted that his first name be "Louis," but his parents always called him "Leonard," which they preferred. He officially changed his name to "Leonard" when he was fifteen, shortly after his grandmother's death. To his friends and many others he was simply known as "Lenny." His father, Sam Bernstein, was a businessman and owner of a bookstore in downtown Lawrence. At a very young age, Lenny listened to a piano performance and was immediately captivated; he subsequently began learning the piano seriously when the family acquired his cousin Lillian Goldman's unwanted piano. Sam initially opposed young Leonard's interest in music. Despite this, the elder Bernstein took him to orchestra concerts in his teenage years and eventually supported his music education. Exhibiting some of his father's resolve and resourcefulness, Lenny raised money to pay for his own lessons by teaching younger kids and recruited his talented sister Shirley to share his enthusiasms.

Leonard's sister, Shirley Anne Bernstein, was born on 23 October 1923. She was named after her mother's favorite actress, Anne Shirley.

Sam, Lenny, Shirley and Jennie Bernstein

As a child Lenny was very close to his younger sister Shirley, and would often play entire operas or Beethoven symphonies with her at the piano. At nine years old, with teeth missing, she delivered the prologue of Bizet's Carmen in a community production staged by Lenny in a Sharon (Massachusetts) resort hotel's dining room. At age 11, she was featured in Lenny's production of Gilbert and Sullivan's Mikado at the Sharon Town Hall auditorium. That answers Greg's question, "And where did Shirley get her dramatic training?" Shirley and Lenny remained extremely close throughout their lives. "On the Town" was made into a movie in 1949, starring Gene Kelly and Frank Sinatra.

30 January 1945

438^th AAA AW BN

APO 230 % Postmaster, N.Y.

30 January, 1945       1120

Dearest sweetheart –

Yes – you guessed it – sick call is just about over and it’s a little bit quieter now, but only a little bit quieter. It’s snowing today, as usual, but from what I hear on the radio – our weather isn’t as cold as what you’re getting in Boston. And Boston can get damned cold – as I remember it. We haven’t had it too bad here – all in all – and the past week has been particularly easy. For example, last night about 23 or 25 of the officers were able to get together at Battalion and we actually set up 5 tables of Bridge and played for a couple of hours. What a strange war! That’s the one thing I’ll always remember about it. You’re never miserable or content for any length of time. And if you can manage to stick out the tough episodes – without cracking up – there’s enough opportunity for relaxation. The odd part of it is where and how you relax. You do it usually in the same spot where a short while before – perhaps the night before – you were very tense. And it’s because of that fact that you relax all the harder. I suppose you can call it escape, but it does help.

You write me every now and then that you wonder how I don’t complain more and don’t often seem more discouraged. I’m glad you feel that way, dear, because sometimes I feel as if my letters must sound awfully depressing to you – although the Lord knows I try not to make them so. If I’m not always blue and morose as so many around me are – it’s because I insist in making everything connected with this war – a temporary phenomenon. I just can’t help getting a tremendous lift when I realize that someday this will be over and behind me – and I’ll be back with you – the sweetest girl a guy could wish to come home to. Your constancy and good spirit about all that has gone on has truly been an inspiration to me, sweetheart, and I’ll never be able to repay you adequately. Your letters to me have been steady, sweet, sincere – and appreciative of what we have had to put up with – and that’s almost more than a fellow can expect. My own letters to you have been steady, too, and that has been as much a surprise to me as perhaps to you – considering where we’ve been these past 7 months. But except under very unusual circumstances – you can most often find a time of the day in which to jot a note a least. What else my letters have been to you, darling, I don’t know. They’re not always what you’d like them to be, I know that – but sweetheart – writing is sometimes so very difficult; if it’s not cold, it may be wet; it’s almost never quiet – and more often than not the place is crowded with soldiers on sick-call waiting for a ride back to their outfit or for our run to the Hospital. The phone rings almost as much as yours, I’ll bet, and 50% of the time I have to speak; the other 50% my staff sergeant takes care of things. But with all the confusion – etc, and discounting my mental state – which isn’t always tops by any manner of means – I know each and every morning that I want to sit down and write or talk to you and I don’t feel content until I at least start. Perhaps I don’t always succeed in telling you just how much I love you and why, but that thought is always in my heart and I just know, darling, that you must be fully aware of that by now. Oh there are thousands of details – it seems to me – that we’ll have to take up when I get back; but one of them will not be the question of our love for each other – and that is the most important thing of all. And with that thought, darling, I think I’ll have to stop because I’m late. I hope you’re well, dear, taking care of yourself for me and loving me. All my love for now, sweetheart – and remember – you’ll have it for always.

Greg

P.S. By the way – I love you!

G.

* TIDBIT *

about the Effort in the Eifel
Part 2

As previously mentioned, the 1st Infantry and 82d Airborne Divisions of the XVIII Airborne Corps opened the attack on 28 January. The next day the VIII Corps attacked with the 87th, 4th, and 90th Divisions. On the 30th, the V Corps jumped off in thenorth. The following excerpt comes from "U.S. Army in WWII European Theater of Operations: The Last Offensive" by Charles B. MacDonald for the Department of the Army's Office of the Chief of Military History, Chapter III, p 63, published in 1973 in Washington, D.C. The pictures come from other sites on the internet.

The story of all these first attacks could be told almost in a word: weather. By the end of January the month's unusually heavy snowfall and low temperatures had left a snow cover one to two feet deep everywhere and in some places drifts up to a man's waist. Snow glazed the hills, choked the valleys and the roads, and hid the enemy's mines. On the first day, it snowed again all day and into the night.

Plowing through the deep snow, the two divisions of the XVIII Airborne Corps encountered only sporadic opposition, often taking the form of occasional patrols or scattered rifle fire. Yet men marching all day through the snow even without sight or sound of the enemy were exhausted when night came from sheer physical exertion. It would take the two divisions four full days to traverse the eight to twelve miles from their jump-off positions to the high ground confronting the West Wall in the Losheim Gap, a key route from Belgium into Germany.

A Part of Losheim - Today

It was in some ways a curious twilight war. One night, for example, a patrol from the 82d Airborne Division, sent to investigate a report that the adjacent 87th Division had occupied a village near Losheim, found no soldiers, American or German. Behind blackout curtains the villagers had their lights on. Now and then a shell crashed nearby, and between times the paratroopers could hear babies crying.

On the other hand, an enemy who was nowhere in particular might be anywhere.

As happened at the village of Holzheim, where on 29 January a company of the 82d Airborne's 508th Parachute Infantry seized 80 prisoners while overrunning the village. Leaving the prisoners under a 4-man guard, the bulk of the company had moved on when a German patrol sneaked back into the village, overpowered the guards, and freed the prisoners. Onto this scene stumbled the company's first sergeant. Surprised, he pretended to surrender, but as the Germans moved to disarm him, he swung his submachine gun from his shoulder and opened fire. Seizing German weapons, the 4-man guard joined the fight. In the melee that ensued, 21 Germans were killed and the rest again surrendered.

Aerial View of Holzheim, Germany - Today
(From Google Maps)

Or as happened one night early in the attack when a platoon of paratroopers advanced down a narrow road between three-foot banks of snow thrown up by German plows. Three tanks rumbled between the files of riflemen. Out of the darkness, dead ahead, suddenly appeared a German company, marching forward in close formation. The banks of hard snow on either side of the road meant no escape for either force. The paratroopers opened fire first, their accompanying tanks pouring withering machine gun fire into the massed enemy. Surprised and without comparable fire support, unable to scatter or retreat, the Germans had no chance. Almost 200 were killed; a handful surrendered. Not an American was hurt.

According to General Hodge's diary, 1000 prisoners of war were taken by First Army on the 29th, and more than a thousand were taken on the 30th.

29 January 1945

438^th AAA AW BN

APO 230 % Postmaster, N.Y.

29 January, 1945       1105

Dearest darling Wilma –

Well – I lied to you yesterday when I wrote that even if I were a Captain for two years – there was no cause for a celebration. That was forenoon. At chow – noon – one of the boys produced a bottle of Burgundy red – very dry. It was a blue Sunday p.m. and the boys said I ought to celebrate – so we drank. Well – the wine was so dry – we became thirsty and went over to our room and from nowhere appeared a couple of champagne bottles – so we killed that. By that time, darling, we felt like music – so we harmonized for an hour or so – until we became hoarse; but we still felt like music – so I had my clarinet dug out from the bottom of our trailer. It had been there ever since Normandy and was plenty frozen, the keys were stuck etc; when I had completely winded myself we had the chaplain’s organ sent up and one of the boys banged away at that. By this time we were drinking Curacao – a liqueur which must be rather scarce in the States these days. After chow we decided to play some Poker – but it didn’t materialize into much of a game. We were at the Dispensary and no one knew one card from the other; I’m afraid the game degenerated into a drinking brawl. I had said I wouldn’t drink until my Birthday – but that was a pretty difficult thing to do. I said that on the 21st – and it seems as if I’ve celebrated on every day since. But I’ve saved one bottle of cognac for the 31st.

I’m glad you enjoyed that Bridge puzzle, sweetheart, and we’ve got to hand it to Mother B. I didn’t get it either although it was ridiculously easy once you saw it. And while I’m on the subject – forgive me, dear, I don’t know how to do cryptograms! I’ve never done one in my life. It’s a shame, too, because I’d like to know what you wrote.

And I wrote to Nin Feldman some time ago, dear. I wrote to her Boston address and assumed it would be forwarded.

I never did meet Capt. Lief whom you mentioned in one of your early letters in December – but the interesting thing is that I know the 45th Evac very well. As a matter of fact they came over on the same boat as we did – i.e. from the States to Scotland – and I got to know a few of the MC’s very well; 4 of them shared the same stateroom with me. And I ran into them several times thru Belgium. The fact that they were in Belgium while we were in Germany – is nothing – because Evac Hospitals are usually at least 10 miles behind the front. They were actually in a town on the Belgium-German frontier. To my knowledge – they were never hit – but about that time we had moved on to Stolberg and they stayed where they were. Hospitals have been hit by these robombs and that’s one compensation, dear, for being up forward. Hardly a day goes by but what we see and hear several go over us – but they keep on going towards the rear. The first few were somewhat frightening – the roar, I mean, but we’re used to them now. They look exactly as pictured in the newspapers.

And if I’ve seen kissing bugs, sweetheart, I haven’t known it – although Cyn’s gift sounds cute. What I’d like to be doing right now is to act the part of one of those things – with you the counterpart. I think I could give you the longest and hardest kiss ever given on this or any other continent – Sweetheart – and with all the ‘fixings’, too. Of course – my lips are quite tender now and out of practice – but I know of no better way to make them sore – do you? Gosh dear. I love you so – it drives me crazy to see these days and months slip by wasted – as it were – but by heck – we’ll make up for it – you’ll see!

Oh – I was sorry to read about Les and his arm; from what you wrote – it sounds more serious, than slight – although the Army has a way of labeling things slight – so long as a soldier is in no danger of dying. I hope his arm is not paralyzed – as you thought it might be. If it is – it means that whatever struck him – got the nerve – and that’s not good. I’ll be interested in your next news about him.

Have to quit now – Sweetheart. Incidentally I’ve been to lunch and it’s now 1400. Take care of yourself, dearest, love to the folks and

My love is yours for always

Greg

P.S. Regards to the office gang.

L,

G.

* TIDBIT *

about Philip Lief and the
45th Evacuation Hospital

Greg mentioned knowing officers from the 45th Evacuation Hospital when Wilma asked him about Philip Lief. In April 1945, shortly after the 45th Evacuation Hospital was set up nearby the recently liberated Buchenwald Concentration Camp, Dr. Philip Lief was asked about the camp. The following quote was taken from The Story of World War II, by Donald L. Miller, 2001 (revised, expanded and updated from the original text by Henry Steele Commager, 1945).

"I had studied German literature while an undergraduate at Harvard College," said Dr. Philip Lief, an Army surgeon, "and I could not really believe that ... a cultured people like the Germans would undertake something like this ... I saw the pocketbook made out of human skin that supposedly Ilse Koch, the wife of the commandant of Buchenwald concentration camp carried about, and also saw the lampshade made out of human skin that had been stretched over a frame and used as a lampshade in her apartment."

This quote is made all the more interesting because Greg also studied German literature while at Harvard College. Greg also said that to his knowledge the 45th Evac Hospital was never hit. Actually, it had been damaged a bit, as can be seen in a brief bit of its history, written for the U.S. World War II Medical Research Centre:

After boarding the “Aquitania” at 1030 hours the same day, the ship finally left New York harbor bound for the United Kingdom at 1100 hours, 17 November 1943. Total unit strength of the 45th Evacuation Hospital at time of departure was 46 Officers, 43 Nurses, and 212 Enlisted Men.

The 45th Evacuation Hospital landed at Omaha Beach at 1500 hours on D + 10 (16 June 1944). After transferring to smaller landing craft, the personnel were dropped a quarter of a mile offshore. Loaded down with personal gear and equipment, Officers and Enlisted Men made their way to shore.

Hospitals and other medical installations were protected by the Articles of the Geneva Convention. An Evacuation Hospital was supposed to be safe by being set up to the rear of possible harassment by enemy ground action. Although considerable air activity occurred over the Omaha Beach sector as the personnel and equipment awaited debarkation, the only risk to personnel was “ack ack” fire fragments, unexploded AA shells, low level firing of machine guns, and mines. In fact, the intense noise of these activities caused more apprehension than the falling fragments which fortunately caused no casualties among personnel or patients.

Stations – 45th Evacuation Hospital – To Date
La Cambe, Calvados 16 Jun – 14 Jul 1944
Airel, Calvados 5 Jul – 5 Aug 1944
Saint-Sever, Calvados 9 Aug – 16 Aug 1944
Senonches, Eure-et-Loir 22 Aug – 30 Aug 1944
La Capelle, Aisne 5 Sept – 14 Sept 1944 (bivouac)
Baelen, Liège Province 16 Sept – 26 Sept 1944
Eupen, Liège Province 28 Sept – 18 Oct and 28 Oct – 25 Dec 1944
Jodoigne, Brabant Province 31 December 1944 (non-operational)
Spa, Liège Province 19 January 1945 – 8 February 1945

The 45th Evacuation Hospital operated far longer than anticipated in Eupen, Belgium. Many more patients were processed with a total of 7707 medical and surgical patients being taken care of. The designation of the various wards was changed in order to better accommodate the different types of cases received. Wards 5 and 6 in the basement were used solely for medical and non-operative surgical cases. The wards on the first and second floors were devoted entirely to the use of post-operative cases. Ward 1 remained the early transportable ward. Because there were many lesser wounded who were not evacuated as quickly as before, this ward was enlarged by setting up an additional 20 beds immediately above it in the corridor of the second floor. One room of ward 3 was converted into a third surgery ward. The other room was used exclusively for patients with vascular injuries. Wards 2 and 4 remained as before, for the care of abdominal wounds and chest injuries.

Wards 7 and 8, on the second floor, previously used for medical cases, were converted into post-operative wards. Another room was used for post-operative treatment of head and spine injuries. The other three rooms were used for post-op non-transportable orthopedic cases. The number of vascular and head cases was so large that segregation of these patients greatly facilitated their after-care, both by the Officers and ward personnel. Being housed in a building made things easier, as the inclement weather would have greatly handicapped the organization, were they set up in the field and under tentage. The burden placed upon the EM was made greater by the fact that frequently personnel of the Medical Collecting Company, who were assisting the unit, were called upon for duties elsewhere. By shifting men to wards where they were needed most, the 45th managed as best as they could under the circumstances.

CLICK TO ENLARGE PICTURES

45th Evacuation Hospital Buildings in Eupen, Belgium

Of the total admissions, 35% were medical. There were 2172 cases in total. The number of diagnoses totaled 125 cases. Trench foot now headed the list, of which there were 739 cases, seen in various stages of the disease. The milder ones were sent to the Medical Gas treatment Battalion, from where quite a large proportion was eventually returned to duty. Many patients developed swollen, hot, painful feet when exposed to warm air of the wards. If ice was available, it might have helped prevent some of the more serious sequellae. Diarrheal diseases, upper respiratory infections, malaria, and anxiety neurosis followed in this order. There were also 16 cases of infectious hepatitis, 12 of atypical and 3 of lobar pneumonia. Some cases of diphtheria were also encountered, which responded well to antitoxin and penicillin treatment. Eight patients were admitted with a history of methyl alcohol ingestion; 3 died despite treatment, the other 5 never had any symptoms. Two of these showed the presence of methyl alcohol in the urine, while this proved negative for the other three. Toxicological examination of the gastric contents of this patient indicated that he also died of methyl alcohol intoxication.

Not until the start of the German counter-offensive did the unit find itself under fire of enemy air and ground elements. As soon as the news of this enemy attack came through, all prisoners of war were evacuated and all personnel restricted to the Hospital area. At 0530, 16 December 1944, Eupen came under intense enemy artillery fire. One shell burst about 10 yards from the building housing the shock and pre-op wards. An intervening stone wall fortunately caught most of the blast and shell fragments, and no damage resulted to the Hospital. At 2300 hours, 17 December, a gasoline dump east of the Hospital building was hit by a stick of firebombs falling from 150 to 180 yards of the unit. HE bombs or shells then fell within only 60 yards of the northwest corner of the Hospital. The concussion was severe, all windows were blown out, the lighting system was disrupted, and corridors, ward floors, and beds were littered with debris. All personnel had immediately assisted with immediate evacuation of the 166 patients to the basement and shelters and an emergency surgery facility was promptly established in one of the basement rooms

There were no casualties and no undue excitement whatever among personnel and patients, quite astonishing in view of the extensive damage which was evident the following morning. Bomb fragments and blast caused most damage to the north side of the building housing the 45th. The walls of the wards on that particular side, the Registrar’s office, the Laboratory and the Pharmacy showed evidence of splinter damage and cannon fire. The ceiling of the Nurses’ quarters, shock, and pre-operative wards showed evidence of machine-gun fire, and the entire Hospital was filled with miscellaneous rubbish such as plaster, glass, cement, screens, and other parts. An incendiary container was found in front of the Mess Hall; unexploded flares in the storeroom; and an unexploded phosphorus bomb in the street facing the Hospital. Two precautionary measures, as well as extreme good fortune, seemed to have prevented injury to patients. Blankets had been used as black-out screens and barred or arrested the flight of fragments; and at the beginning of the attack beds were pushed to the center of the wards, away from walls and windows.

The next day, 18 December 1944, all patients were evacuated and repairs started. Enemy air activity did continue but mostly in the form of aerial observation and occasional strafing of important road junctions. On 19 December 1944, the Surgeon’s Office directed the Hospital to dismantle its installations and prepare all equipment for loading. During the same night, flares but no bombs were dropped. On 20 December at 1000 hours a retrograde movement was made to a new area in Huy, Belgium. A total of 45 2 ½-ton trucks had been dispatched by infiltration and many had already arrived at the new site (Huy), when Headquarters First United States Army ordered all vehicles to return to Eupen, unload, and proceed immediately to Malmédy, in Belgium, to assist in evacuation of the First US Army Medical Depot and the 44th Evacuation and 67th Evacuation Hospitals. Four MC and 2 MAC Officers were also requested by Corps; they left at 2000 hours.

The following morning, 21 December, the Officer dispatched to Malmédy with a detail of 42 EM returned to report 3 of his men missing. All were subsequently accounted for, 2 having been evacuated for wounds caused by enemy MG fire. Only one vehicle was seriously damaged by gun fire. In the meantime the Hospital again prepared to receive patients. The excitement had abated and only American heavy artillery about 1½ miles from the installations was active. On 22 December 1944, 218 patients were received and the organization managed to remain open to patients until Christmas day. The Motor Officer now on DS with the Infantry was reported wounded in action although not seriously. On Christmas an egg-nog party and an excellent supper were not in the least disturbed by occasional appearance of enemy aircraft. Bombing and strafing occurred intermittently, but at considerable distance from the Hospital.

30 and 31 of December were spent in moving from Eupen to a new location in Jodoigne, Belgium. The precaution of transporting the Nurses by ambulance was taken because of continuous enemy air activity. The movement of personnel and equipment on the whole was uneventful.

On 19 January 1945 the 45th Evac Hospital moved to Spa, Belgium. It appeared at first glance that difficulties would be encountered in setting up a smoothly functioning Hospital unit in the buildings which were allotted to the organization. Access to the building’s upper floors for litter patients would have been almost impossible because of the high, narrow, winding staircases. With aid of some Engineers however, the EM were able to utilize all the available space on the street level floors of the buildings, and litter haul was thus reduced to a minimum. Collapsible field carriers were put to use and from that angle the situation was better than in the previous set ups. The shock and pre-op wards were given ample space and were conveniently located in close proximity both to the X-Ray department and to Surgery. The post-op wards were also suitably situated in relation to Surgery, although not as spacious as they previously were. A separate building was utilized as a medical pavilion. Two garages, close to the receiving ward, were converted into extra wards and were reserved exclusively for trench foot cases. Lighting and heating of these spacious buildings posed a problem, but they were sorted out and taken care of. In general the physical and functional set up of the organization turned out to be as good, if not better, that the one at Eupen.

45th Evacuation Hospital Motor Pool and Part of Building

Total medical cases were 1432, representing some 56% of the total admissions. Respiratory infections were again frequently encountered; both atypical and lobar pneumonia showed an increased incidence. Atypical pneumonia and severe diphtheria with laryngeal involvement coexisted in the same patient, who made an excellent recovery with 200,000 units of diphtheria antitoxin in combination with penicillin. Diarrheal infections and diseases were still present in large numbers, including almost as many cases of bacillary dysentery. Infectious hepatitis was now more frequently seen too. Trench foot however, still headed the list of medical admissions and also frostbite was frequently treated. The shortage of Officer personnel in some of the wards was solved by the return of Officers from the Division where they had been detached to, and the addition of a newly assigned Officer. Three Officers pertaining to an attached Medical Collecting Company assisted in great measure with ward service.

28 January 1945

438^th AAA AW BN

APO 230 % Postmaster, N.Y.

28 January, 1945       0940

My dearest sweetest darling –

It’s Sunday morning again and you’ll have to forgive me for continually reminding you of it – but it always was a special sort of day; I’m kind of glad that after two-and-one-half years of the Army – Sunday still seems a little bit different. That’s a good sign, dear – and oh! oh! – here comes sick-call, see you later sweetheart.

1100

Hello again, dear – Well – that’s how long sick-call lasted this morning; not bad – but there’ll probably be some more in this afternoon.

Today is a sort of anniversary for me – I’ve been a Captain for 2 years – which is a long time. In any other outfit – I’d have been a Major some time ago – but except for some extra money, it doesn’t make a heluva lot of difference. Incidentally, I don’t think I’ll celebrate. But I felt like celebrating yesterday p.m. when I got six letters from you – 11,12,13,14,15,16 December, one from Eleanor, one from Dad A, one from Dr. Gardner in the Mariannas, and by coincidence – one from Carolyn Gardner, his wife, – in Salem; I also got two from Florence B. – and really, she’s been a peach of a correspondent. Considering how little we know each other – I think it’s swell of her to keep writing so regularly. That was some haul – after what we’ve been getting and the age of the letters mattered not at all. As a matter of fact, dear, it’s nice to get six consecutive letters and read them at one sitting. When I got thru reading of your activities over a week’s stretch – I closed my eyes and damned if I didn’t feel as if I had just spent the week with you. I was right back home seeing your friends with you, dropping in at the Red Cross, visiting my folks with you etc. It made me very homesick, sweetheart – but I like to feel homesick because then I’m positive that that’s where I belong. And that’s not as strange as it sounds. You’d be surprised at how many fellows in the Army have become separated from those at home. They’ve been away so long that the Army and their present contacts seem more important to them. That’s a tough state to be in – and I’m glad I haven’t been affected so. And don’t worry for one moment, sweetheart, that I may. Time is making me older – but that’s the only way it is affecting me. I feel so strongly about my love and desire for you and about everything at home – it doesn’t seem as if I could possibly have been gone so long. I can’t understand why there’s been so much talk about the Vet’s return, rehabilitation, knowing their wives etc – as you mentioned. I’ve been in long enough to have become accustomed to the uniform, the regimen and in a way, the freedom and independence of a moving Army. But I feel as certain as I’ve ever been about anything – that the day I shed my uniform – the Army will be a thing of the past as far as I’m concerned; I’m sure I’ll be able to take up just where I left off – and in our case, darling, we’ll take up where we left off in our last letter. I say – I’ll forget about the Army, but you’ll probably have to listen to anecdotes for the next twenty years, dear, so steel yourself. That reminds me – you remember I wrote you about the Prince of Mèrode? We heard yesterday that he was a prisoner of the Germans, presumably alive – but not certainly so. During the breakthrough he went down to a village – in his province – to supervise the distribution of food. It was a place near the western tip of the salient – and while he was there – the place was over-run by the Germans. I hope he’s safe because he was a swell guy.

And now, darling, it’s time to eat lunch again. It seems as if I usually end my letters to you just in time to eat. But it leaves me with a swell taste and it’s too bad I just can’t have a little bite of you – darling – but I will dear, I will –

All for now, dear, love to the folks and to you

All my everlasting love

Greg

* TIDBIT *

about General Bradley's Proposal

The following excerpt comes from "U.S. Army in WWII European Theater of Operations: The Last Offensive" by Charles B. MacDonald for the Department of the Army's Office of the Chief of Military History, published in 1973, page 56, in Washington, D.C. The maps and pictures come from various sites on the internet.

Through the course of the Ardennes fighting, the 12th Army Group commander, General Bradley, had been aware that General Eisenhower intended a return to a main effort in the north. Since the Ninth Army was to remain under Montgomery's command and participate in that drive, Bradley eventually would have to relinquish divisions to bring the Ninth Army to a strength at least equal to that which had existed before General Simpson had released divisions to fight in the Ardennes. General Bradley nevertheless hoped to be able to continue to attack with his army group beyond the Ardennes to cut through northern reaches of the Eifel to the Rhine.

CLICK TO ENLARGE PICTURES

Eifel Landscape and Typical Village

Against the obvious difficulties of attacking in winter over countryside equally as inhospitable as that of the Ardennes and through the West Wall, Bradley could argue that an offensive in the Eifel fitted best as a continuation of the attack to reduce the bulge. It would avoid a pause to regroup; it would insure a constant and mounting pressure against the Germans; it would capitalize on probable German expectation of an Allied return to the offensive in the north; and it would put the 12th Army Group in a position to unhinge the Germans in front of the 21 Army Group. To at least some among the American command, rather delicate considerations of national prestige also were involved, making it advisable to give to American armies and an American command that had incurred a reverse in the Ardennes a leading part in the new offensive.

Attacking through the Eifel also would avoid directly confronting an obstacle that had plagued Bradley and the First Army's General Hodges all through the preceding autumn, a series of dams known collectively as the Roer River dams in rugged country along headwaters of the river near Monschau. So long as the Germans retained control of these dams, they might manipulate the waters impounded by the dams to jeopardize and even deny any Allied crossing of the normally placid Roer downstream to the north.

Eifel Area of Germany's Rhineland

By pursuing an offensive that the 12th Army Group's planning staff had first suggested in November, General Bradley saw a way to bypass and outflank the dams and still retain his ability to support a main effort farther north. Bradley intended to attack northeastward from a start line generally along the German frontier between Monschau and St. Vith and seize the road center of Euskirchen, not quite thirty miles away, where the Eifel highlands merge with the flatlands of the Cologne plain. This would put American forces behind the enemy's Roer River defenses in a position to unhinge them.

Vertical Line from St Vith to Monchau,
Arrow to (A) Euskirchen,
Purple Marker Shows Area of Roer River Dams

To the Supreme Commander, General Eisenhower, Bradley's proposal had the double virtue of being a logical follow-up to the job of reducing the bulge and of accomplishing part of the general buildup along the Rhine that he intended before launching a major offensive deep into Germany. Yet Eisenhower saw a 12th Army Group offensive as no substitute for a main effort later by the 21 Army Group. Since Montgomery had considerable regrouping to do before his offensive would be ready, Eisenhower agreed to let Bradley hold on temporarily to the divisions earmarked for the Ninth Army and take a stab at the Eifel.

General Eisenhower nevertheless sharply qualified his approval. If the attack failed to show early promise of a "decisive success," he intended halting it and shifting strength to the Ninth Army. The definition of decisive success was apparently a quick, broad penetration of the West Wall. Even beyond that the operation was to be subject to review at any time, and General Bradley was to be prepared to pass quickly to the defensive, relinquishing divisions to the Ninth Army.

The 1st Infantry and 82d Airborne Divisions of the XVIII Airborne Corps opened the attack on 28 January 1945.

27 January 1945

438^th AAA AW BN

APO 230 % Postmaster, N.Y.

27 January, 1945       1125

My dearest darling –

Well, well, well – two nice letters from you, both written 6 January – one in the a.m. and one at 2200. It was so swell hearing from you, sweetheart, and reading that you loved me just as hard as ever and as much as I do you. You had received my letter of 29 December on that day – and that sounds like pretty good time. But you imply that there were a good many missing and I can imagine, dear, how difficult it must have been for all of you during the past month. Perhaps now you are getting more regular service. I hope so.

It seems as if the radio, newspapers and movie news really “laid it on thick” during the breakthrough. There was a lot of nasty stuff going on. We saw some of it – and it’s too bad they made things so vivid for you at home. I suppose it was to snap some people out of their lethargy. I’m sorry it frightened you, dear, although I don’t think you’re a coward for reacting that way. I still feel that all of you at home are having it as difficult as we are – at least mentally. You get used to shells and tanks after awhile – and it’s not so bad when you know about it; all you at home can do is imagine – and I know your minds run away with you. Anyway – as long as we know we have someone at home who thinks of us and loves us – it’s not too bad at all – and darling I know I love you and that makes all the difference in the world as to how I put up with this war.

You wrote that my letter of 29 December “confused” you – because the usual “Germany” was missing. I don’t know what you thought but I hope you felt I was out of the breakthrough. By now, of course, you know. Censorship rules were confused at 1st and we were allowed to write Belgium and then we weren’t allowed. I believe one of my letters had the word “Belgium” and no others. As usual – this outfit saw things through and if nothing more, I guess we’ve been in every major event since landing. In that respect, by the way, we’ve just been awarded two campaign stars to wear on our E.T.O. ribbon – one for the Battle of Normandy and one for the Battle of Northern France. We have one or two more due us but no War department orders have been issued as yet.

But I was interested in your reaction to my letter of the 29th because you made it sound so detached. I’m surprised, but pleased – because I was beginning to feel, dear, that I could no longer hide my moods, that I could no longer escape my environment. I don’t remember what I – personally – was doing on the 29th – but I do know that things were hectic, unsettled and confused; and we didn’t know from one day to another – what was going to happen. It turned out all right and that’s what matters most.

So just keep on hoping and praying, sweetheart; keep remembering how much I love you, how much you mean to me, how much we have to look forward to. Remember always that you are the only girl in the world for me and that my life, present and future, is centered around you only. Because all that – is true and will always be so – sweetheart.

And now, dear, I must leave. First I’m having lunch – and then I may look for a shower point; I heard this morning there are some around and I could do with one – cold weather or no. I hope to hear from you again today, darling. Until later, so long. Love to the folks – and

All my everlasting love –

Greg

* TIDBIT *

about VII Corps Rests and
The Russians "Liberate" Auschwitz

For the final two weeks in January 1945, the VII Corps was off the front lines and had a chance to regroup. The following text can be found in many locations. Here is a link to one: From Mission Accomplished, page 50:

Now completely out of contact with the enemy, and even out of hearing of the guns, VII Corps assembled in the vicinity of Ochain, Belgium to rest its personnel and to service its vehicles and equipment after the grueling winter battle. This was the first real rest the Corps Headquarters and some of its troops had had since D-Day, and every effort was made to house the personnel comfortably. For twelve days the troops enjoyed the comparative luxury of their Belgian billets.

On This Day, 27 January 1945, BBC reported:

The Red Army has liberated the Nazis' biggest concentration camp at Auschwitz in south-western Poland.

According to reports, hundreds of thousands of Polish people, as well as Jews from a number of other European countries, have been held prisoner there in appalling conditions and many have been killed in the gas chambers.

Few details have emerged of the capture of Auschwitz, which has gained a reputation as the most notorious of the Nazi death camps.

Some reports say the German guards were given orders several days ago to destroy the crematoria and gas chambers. Tens of thousands of prisoners - those who were able to walk - have been moved out of the prison and forced to march to other camps in Germany.

Details of what went on at the camp have been released previously by the Polish Government in exile in London and from prisoners who have escaped.

In July 1944 details were revealed of more than 400,000 Hungarian Jews who were sent to Poland many of whom ended up in Auschwitz. They were loaded onto trains and taken to the camp where many were put to death in the gas chambers. Before they went they were told they were being exchanged in Poland for prisoners of war and made to write cheerful letters to relatives at home telling them what was happening.

According to the Polish Ministry of Information, the gas chambers are capable of killing 6,000 people a day.

Another report from Poland told of mass arrests in the village of Garbatka near Radom in the early hours of one morning in August 1942. Workmen were accused of plotting to blow up a local factory. Twenty were executed on the spot, the rest were sent to Auschwitz.

Since its establishment in 1940, only a handful of prisoners have escaped to tell of the full horror of the camp.

In October last year, a group of Polish prisoners mounted an attack on their German guards. The Germans reportedly machine-gunned the barracks killing 200 Polish prisoners. The Poles succeeded in killing six of their executioners.

When the Red Army arrived at the camp they found only a few thousand prisoners remaining. They had been too sick to leave.

The capture of Auschwitz comes as the Red Army has made important advances on three fronts: in East Prussia to the north, in western Poland as well as Silesia in eastern Germany. Fighting is continuing around the historic Polish western city of Poznan. The Polish capital, Warsaw, was liberated a week ago after five-and-a-half years of German occupation.

IN CONTEXT:

Although few details of the liberation of Auschwitz were given in the British press at the time, it had gained a reputation as the worst of the German concentration camps.

On 8 May 1945 a State commission compiled by the Soviets with advice from Polish, French and Czechoslovak experts revealed the full horror of conditions at the camp. Nearly 3,000 survivors of various nationalities were questioned and on the basis of their evidence the report estimated 4,000,000 people had perished there between 1941 and early 1945. The dead included citizens from the Soviet Union, Poland, France, Belgium, Holland, Czechoslovakia, Yugoslavia, Hungary, Italy and Greece.

The commission, which had previously investigated conditions at Majdanek, Treblinka and other camps, described Auschwitz as the worst in its experience. It found evidence of experiments carried out on humans "of a revolting character".

According to the evidence, the commission said the Germans had moved out up to 60,000 inmates - those still fit enough to walk - when they retreated. The few thousand who were left behind were freed by the Russians.

They also found seven tons of women's hair, human teeth, from which gold fillings had been extracted and tens of thousands of children's outfits.

The final death toll was later revised downwards, by the Auschwitz Museum, to between 1 and 1.5 million, including almost 1 million Jews.

26 January 1945

438^th AAA AW BN

APO 230 % Postmaster, N.Y.

26 January, 1945        1115

Dearest sweetheart –

Sick call is just about over and here I am again dear to tell you I love you, miss you, want you just as much as ever. It sure would be nice to be able to tell you that instead of having to write it. Nothing is so unemotional at times, darling, – unemotional in not being able to perceive the recipient’s reaction. Sometimes that’s good I imagine, but I’m willing to take a chance anytime.

Our one big gripe at the present time is the complete absence of mail – with no explanation forthcoming. There doesn’t seem to be a damned reason for it. First they told us it was the Christmas packages, then the Robombs hitting the mail train (that was some time ago and some fellows didn’t get packages or mail around Christmastime; no way of telling whether I lost any or not.) Then it was the breakthrough, etc. etc. Here it is almost the end of the month, dear, and not a single letter from you in January and lots missing in December. So we have no way of knowing whether ours are getting through or not. I hope you’re not having to sweat it out the way we have.

1315

Hello, darling – I got side-tracked and it was time for lunch before I knew it. I’ve just returned to the Dispensary and there are several men being taken care of, but I think I can keep going with this for awhile. Incidentally our dentist is working along steadily and doing an excellent job. We’ve heard thru channels that our other dentist has been definitely re-classified for limited service. He’s in Paris awaiting a new assignment. I don’t know whether or not he’ll go back to the States or stay in the E-T-O – and I don’t care for that matter. The Medical detachment is a heluva lot better off without him and he won’t be missed. I’ve wanted some dental attention for some time now but I’ve held off. Now I think I’ll get started. Teeth – by the way – take an awful beating over here for some reason or other – and mine are no exception.

Boy oh boy oh boy!! One of our boys just came in from mail call and there’s mail! I see I’ve got 3 letters – one from Law – 5th January and 2 from you – both post-marked 8 January. Where all the rest are – I have no idea, darling, but am I ever looking forward to opening those letters right now.

I’m going to stop now and start reading; I’m so anxious to hear from you, dear – you have no idea. Love to the folks for now, darling, and

All my deepest and sincerest Love,

Greg

P.S. A long time ago – Cyn penned a short note in one of your letters and I never got around to thanking her for it. Will you do that for me, dear?

Love

G.

* TIDBIT *

about Audie Murphy and
The Battle of Holtzwihr

Audie Leon Murphy (20 June 1924 – 28 May 1971) was a highly decorated and famous soldier. Through LIFE magazine's 16 July 1945 issue's "Most Decorated Soldier" cover photo, he became one the most famous soldiers of World War II.

During twenty-seven months in action in the European Theatre, Audie Murphy was wounded three times,was credited with killing over 240 enemy soldiers, quickly rose from an enlisted Private to receive a battlefield commission as a 2nd Lieutenant, all before he was 21 years old. For his actions he received the Medal of Honor, the U.S. military's highest award for valor, along with 32 additional U.S. and foreign awards (medals, ribbons, citations, badges...) including five awards from France and one from Belgium.

In later years, Audie suffered from what was then known as "Battle Fatigue" and is now known as "Post Traumatic Stress (PTS)". He suffered from insomnia and depression. Always an advocate for the needs of veterans, Audie broke the taboo about discussing war-related psychological problems. In a effort to draw attention to the problems of returning Korean and Vietnam War veterans, Murphy spoke-out candidly about his personal struggle with PTS. He publicly called for the United States government to give more consideration and study to the emotional impact war has on veterans and to extend health care benefits to address PTS and other mental health damage of returning war vets.

Murphy's successful movie career included To Hell and Back (1955), based on his book of the same title (1949). He starred in over 44 films, and in 1950 was voted the Most Popular Western Actor in America by the Motion Picture Exhibitors. He later had some success as a country music composer. Audie Murphy died in a plane crash in 1971 at the age of 46 and was interred, with full military honors, in Arlington National Cemetery.

The following was taken from H. Scott Dalton's blog entry for Monday, 31 January 2011 entitled "The Battle of Holtzwihr, 26 January 1945" and describes what Murphy did to earn the Congressional Medal of Honor.

Murphy's Company B, 15th Infantry Regiment, assigned to the 3rd Infantry Division, was part of the Colmar Offensive, an operation intended to push the last German troops out of France in late January 1945. On the 24th and 25th of January it had been cut to pieces in an attack through heavy woods on the fortified village of Holtzwihr. All the company's officers except Murphy (by this time a first lieutenant) were killed, and 102 of its 120 men killed or wounded.

By the morning of the 26th, Company B faced Holtzwihr from the edge of the forest. Murphy and his 18 remaining men, reinforced by two M10 tank destroyers, sat astride a road that ran into the forest behind them - a road the Germans needed to control if they were to mount a counterattack into the woods with their armor. Murphy's mission was to hold his position until he could be relieved by fresh troops, but by two o'clock no relief had come. The Germans decided it was time to start their counterattack.

The men of Company B watched as six tanks and 250 or so infantrymen began forming in front of the village for an attack. Murphy immediately called for artillery support, but artillery could only even the odds so much - the company was going to have a hard fight on its hands very quickly.

As soon as the enemy tanks came within range, the two tank destroyers opened fire with their 90mm main guns - to no effect. The shells bounced off the Panzers' thick armor. See, a WWII tank destroyer looked much like a tank, but mounted a heavier gun and much thinner armor. The German tanks paid little attention to either, and shortly one tank destroyer was burning and the other, after doing some damage to the infantry with its machine guns, slid into a ditch and became useless. Company B faced the counterattack alone.

Murphy knew his handful of men could never hold the road on their own, so he ordered them to fall back into the woods while he stayed behind directing artillery fire over a field phone. The shells fell thick among the advancing Germans, but still they came on. Shortly his carbine was out of ammunition.

He was preparing to fall back and rejoin his men in the woods when he noticed the .50 caliber machine gun on the burning tank destroyer was still undamaged. Realizing the machine gun was his best chance to slow the Germans down and keep his men alive, he jumped onto the vehicle and started firing.

Very few weapons on the battlefield convey moral authority to an infantryman like a .50 caliber M2. It can fire its half-inch-diameter bullet more than a mile with devastating force; nothing that walks on a battlefield, and not many that roll, will take a .50 cal bullet and keep going. A single shot will go through two men and into a third. Infantrymen stop moving and put their heads down when they hear the thud-thud-thud of a .50 and see their friends going down around them. And tanks don't like to roll into forest without infantry covering them - without them, enemy infantry can easily use the cover of the trees to get close.

A .50 caliber M-2, also known as the "Ma Deuce"

So even though he couldn't kill the tanks with the .50 cal, Murphy could stop their infantry cover - and that stopped the tanks. The smoke billowing around him from the burning tank destroyer obscured him from view, and the artillery bursting around them masked the sounds of his firing so the German infantry could not tell where it was coming from. For more than an hour he stayed there, gunning down any Germans that tried to move toward him. Finally the clouds cleared enough to allow American aircraft to start strafing the German positions, and they began to fall back. Murphy, by this time bleeding from a leg wound, returned to his company and organized a counterattack that drove the Germans from the field and regained the company its earlier position. American forces took Holtzwihr the following day.

As mentioned, Audie Murphy received the Medal of Honor for his actions at Holtzwihr. And historians and soldiers alike read the story of his bravery, scratch their heads and wonder, "How does a human being do that?"

It's just the sort of over-the-top ridiculous hero story we scoff at when we see it in movies and books. The kind of story we say could never happen. Except Audie Murphy really did it.

25 January 1945

438^th AAA AW BN

APO 230 % Postmaster, N.Y.

25 January, 1945        1100

My dearest sweetheart –

I didn’t write you yesterday. I couldn’t – and the day before yesterday seems like ages ago. By pure coincidence, darling, I’m writing this now in the same house and at the same table as I did exactly one month ago. But the general condition of things is so much different, fortunately. Our job of the last several weeks has been accomplished and we’re having a sort of relaxation period at the moment. This is the spot where the people were so nice to us around the Holiday time; there are several intact houses in town, we have electricity too. All we lack is running water, and Hell – that’s no inconvenience these days.

There’s no getting away from it, sweetheart, the last month was a tough one, and the more you soldier the more you learn that you can take it. I hope we’ve had the worst. I don’t know how my letters sounded, dear, but honestly I had to write under the most trying conditions – so excuse them.

On top of everything else – I don’t think there’s anyone of us here who received more than eight or ten letters in the past 3-4 weeks and that didn’t help one bit. Packages continued to come through. I got two from Lawrence last week – a couple of days apart, and one from Eleanor last night. I don’t remember whether I told you or not – but the contents of one of your boxes came in handy a week or so ago. Rations had slipped a bit and one noon I had toasted bread with anchovies – and it was delicious; another day – the sardines became the pièce de resistance. I had held onto them for just such an occasion.

Today, of course, we’re getting organized. This p.m. I’m going to a medium sized city near here – about ten miles away – to look for a place to have my films developed. I have a few more rolls and I’m willing to take another chance.

Every day now we read in the Stars and Stripes about furloughs, leaves, rotation etc. The passes to Paris are still very limited but we occasionally get a very small quota. We’ve had about 4 officers go already and they are now allowed 72 hours, exclusive of traveling time. In addition they are soon going to issue 7 day leaves or furloughs to the Riviera – near Cannes and Nice or if a fellow prefers – he can take his 7 days in the U.K. – England or Scotland i.e. 7 days – plus traveling time. Personally – the only thing I’m interested in is a 30 day trip to the States – but at present that’s a very remote thing, darling. If I ever got the chance – I’d want to get married. How do you feel about it? Incidentally, one of our officers, Stan Sargent – our S2 – just got himself engaged by mail, so we’re not the only ones. And his fiancée comes from New Haven – and he from Portsmouth, N.H. His big problem, by the way, is letting a couple of other girls know about it – a couple with whom he’s been corresponding very regularly.

With all the talk of rotation etc – I’ve been dreaming of it about every other night – and last night, darling, was the prize. I actually was home and what is more wonderful – I saw you, just as vividly and life-like as ever. It’s the first time in a very long while that you so appeared to me – and it was a rare treat. And best of all, dear, we loved each other; you were not a stranger to me, nor I to you. It was everything I’ve wanted it to be when I get back, and since I’m somewhat a believer in omens and the supernatural – I’m all hepped up – sweetheart.

It’s 1145 now, dear, and I’ve got to get ready for chow. I’m kind of hungry because we didn’t get much to eat yesterday – so I’ll take off now. I do hope mail starts coming in because I haven’t heard from you in the longest while.

So long for now, dear, love for now – and

All my everlasting love

Greg

* TIDBIT *

about The End of the Battle of the Bulge

Greg mentioned they were having "a sort of relaxation period." It seems the brass above him was as well, according to Hodges diary. The snapshot that follows was taken from Normandy to Victory: The War Diary of General Courtney H. Hodges & the First U.S. Army, maintained by his aides Major William C. Sylvan and Captain Francis G. Smith Jr.; edited by John T. Greenwood, copyright 2008 by the Association of the United States Army, page 273.

CLICK TO ENLARGE

The break was hard earned. On 25 January 1945, Hitler ordered all Ardennes Offensive fighting units to cease combat operations and fall back behind the now shortened Siegfried Line towards Berlin. The Allies had been busy and successful in their counter attacks. The Battle of the Bulge was officially over. The German lines had been pushed back to their initial jumping off point. Hitler's last gamble in the West had ended in failure. The Third Reich was now in its death throes, and it was only a matter of months before it totally collapsed from the Allied onslaught.

The battle had begun on 16 December 1944, one of the coldest, snowiest days “in memory” in the Ardennes Forest, which encompassed about 80 miles of the German/Belgian border. Casualties from exposure to extreme cold were to grow as large as the losses from fighting.

The final tally came to 89,500 American casualties: 19,000 killed in action, 47,500 wounded and 23,000 missing in action or prisoners of war. The Americans lost 600 tanks and between 400 and 600 aircraft. There were 1,408 British casualties: 208 killed in action, and 1200 wounded, missing in action prisoners of war.

For the Nazis, the numbers were staggering. Somewhere between 60 and 100 thousand killed in action. Nobody is quite sure of the wounded numbers and about another 70,000 were taken prisoner. They lost 600 of their 1,800 irreplaceable tanks and 950 of 1,900 equally irreplaceable artillery guns. The Luftwaffe was destroyed with 1,000 aircraft gone. Although the Allies’ own offensive timetable was set back by months, many experienced German units were left severely depleted of men and equipment, as German survivors retreated to the defenses of the Siegfried Line.

Most of the American casualties occurred within the first three days of battle, when two of the 106th division’s three regiments were forced to surrender. In its entirety, the “Battle of the Bulge” was the most bloody battle American Forces experienced in WWII, the 19,000 American dead unsurpassed by any other engagement. For the U.S. Army, the Battle of the Ardennes was a battle incorporating more American troops and engaging more enemy troops than any American conflict prior to WWII.

By the end of the battle the forces had included over a million men: about 560,000 Germans, 640,000 Americans (more than fought at Gettysburg) and 55,800 British as well as soldiers from countries with smaller contingents such as Belgium, Canada and France.

24 January 1945

No letter today. Just this:

The following photographs were taken by Greg and labeled only "BELGIUM - JAN 1945." With dates unspecified, they are shown here. They may have been taken when Greg went to visit the Field Hospital or when he was moving to his new quarters on this day in 1945.

CLICK TO ENLARGE PICTURES

A Couple of Convoys Meet at a Crossroad.
Note Red Cross Pointing to Our Aid Station.
Belgium - January 1945


Going away is a Limey convoy.
Coming in is our own.
Belgium - January 1945


Field Strewn with Wrecked and Abandoned American Tanks
Belgium - January 1945


Knocked out Sherman Tank
Belgium - January 1945


Wrecked British Equipment
Belgium - January 1945


Knocked out German Tank
Belgium - January 1945


Knocked out German Panther Tank
Belgium - January 1945 - The Ardennes


Route of the Question Mark


CLICK TO ENLARGE

(B) Verleumont to (A) Failon, Belgium (30 miles)
10-24 January 1945

January 24...Failon. Return engagement, a much needed rest period, which meant that we worked harder than ever. Here Pct ROSA established a fraternizing record, we spread out in all the houses in the village, and T/5 [Frank A.] SARACINO and T/5 [Rocco] DERASMO lived in an elegant bedroom and slept on the softest, whitest, loveliest bed in the world. Cognac in the local cafe at eighteen dollars a bottle, so 1st Sgt [Stanley F.] KOWALSKI gave them competition by setting up a bar of our own in the mess hall. Major [William J.] SHEA left us and Major[Raymond W.] HOAG joined us.

23 January 1945

438^th AAA AW BN

APO 230 % Postmaster, N.Y.

23 January, 1945       1300

My dearest sweetheart –

There’s still been no mail from you although I did get one from Mrs. Kerr in Salem – yesterday. One of these days it ought to start coming through in droves. Yesterday was a quiet day in the a.m., a fairly busy one in the p.m. (I went back to our rear area) and a very noisy one in the evening; but the reference to noisiness, darling, for a change had nothing at all to do with guns. One of our officers has a Birthday today, my Birthday is next week, another fellow’s is later this week, in a few days I will have been a captain for two years – and all in all, dear – we were looking for excuses to run through what was left of our liquor rations. And we did! It totaled 9 bottles of Champagne, two bottles of cognac and 2 bottles of Benedictine. Before we were through – we were mixing all 3 types of drinks into one glass – and you know, dear – it wasn’t bad at all. We didn’t become exactly paralyzed, but one fellow narrowly escaped shock. I was all right but fell asleep with my radio on – and there went my battery. Fortunately I’m using G-I batteries and I’ve got 2 or 3 spares. And one way or another – I managed to save 1 bottle of cognac for my Birthday in fact.

This morning I got a new dentist but at present anyway, he is only a D.S. We’ll probably lose him if our other one comes back. His name is Vesely, a Captain and he seems like a pretty good Joe. The interesting thing is that he comes from Nebraska, went to the same school as Pete and knows him well. I’ve contacted Pete but today is a bit of a mixed up day and we won’t be able to get together. In the next day or so I think we’ll be together – I mean the battalion – and then we’ll all have a little rest, probably.

I was just re-reading your letter of 23 December, darling, and I love to read that you need affection and attention because that, sweetheart, is what I’m going to specialize in once I get back and it will all be directed towards you. If you don’t call for a truce, dear, it will be because you can’t catch your breath - because I’ll be giving you so much loving that oh – what’s the use talking about it; just wait and see!!

Right now, darling, I’m going over to the Field Hospital where the new dentist comes from. It happens to be near here and he’d like to pick up a few things he left behind. I’d like to look it over anyway. Tomorrow I may not be able to write because of an obvious reason but I should be able to get started again the next day.

Until then, dear, you have my constant thought, attention, affection – and everything that concerns you and me. My love to the folks – and

All my everlasting love

Greg

* TIDBIT *

about A January Day

The following information was excerpted from a page which had been posted by the Belgium-based "Center of Research and Information about the Battle of the Ardennes (C.R.I.B.A.)," called "My Untold Story, January 1945," by Private Jospeh A. Campagna.

It was a cold miserable January day in Belgium. The fog was thick and the snow flakes large. We were in single file heading for some woods in the Ardennes when we started hearing our artillery coming over. I didn’t take us long to distinguish our artillery from theirs.

We were to attack the enemy which consisted of panzer grenadiers and armor at 0815 hours. Our objective was to drive the Germans out of the woods. Between the fog and the snow it was difficult to see some of our troops, which in turn gave the feeling of being alone.

We set up our water-cooled machine guns in text book fashion, that it to place them so we would have interlocking bands of grazing fire. Even though our guns fired only 500 rounds per minute, we were soon low on ammunition. My squad leader, Sergeant Fisher, asked me to find our ammunition supply dump and bring back as much as I could carry. When I walked out of the woods into the open field, all Hell broke loose. The Germans opened up on us with small arms, machine guns, 88 mm paks, and those ever frightening Nebelwerfer, six tube rockets, better known to us as “Screaming Meemies”. When I finally got back to my squad, almost everyone was hit from tree burst, including my squad leader Fisher. He was hurt pretty bad and my friend Pete Covick was trying to give him a shot of morphine but was afraid he could hurt him. I heard Fisher yelling at Covick to stick the damned needle in his arm. He was in a lot of pain by this time. Pete was trying to give Fisher the morphine because our medic was down with part of his head blown away.

I can still see Jim Kelley sitting in the snow looking at his jump boots and cursing the Germans for knocking the heel off his boot. He said, “Don’t they know boots are rationed and hard to get?”

We finally got word to withdraw but unfortunately as a machine gunner, we have to stay back and cover the withdrawal. When I felt that I gave our troops ample time, I dismantled my gun and threw parts in all directions so that the Germans couldn’t use it against us. As soon as I started across the field to join my company, the Germans started in with the artillery again. I could hear the six tube rockets coming in so I hit the snow. That’s when my helmet pushed back off my forehead and shrapnel hit me cross the top of my head and went out the back of my helmet. A medic was trying to reach me but we were fired at and he finally had to give it up. I didn’t blame him at the time since there was nothing he could do.

I lay in that freezing cold for about two hours with nothing but a field jackets as our overcoats were taken away for some reason. Army logic I’m sure. My jump boots were little protection for my feet. I can remember calling for my mother as I thought I was going to the “happy hunting ground”. I felt my eyes close as I was beginning to feel comfortable and sleepy.

Soon, I felt myself being cradled in very strong arms and knew that I was on my way to that happy place. I soon realized that it was a human voice I was hearing reassuring me that I would be alright. I didn’t realize that it was a German medic until he started to bandage my head. He threw an overcoat over me and my teeth finally stopped chattering.

I was lying next to another airborne trooper when our artillery started pounding the Germans. The trooper said, “Let’s get the Hell out of here. I don’t want to be killed by our own shells.” He helped me up and we headed back to our lines.

I had no idea where our lines were, so I followed him and he led us right to our battalion aid station. By the time we made it back, my feet were frozen so bad that I couldn’t stand anymore. I looked up from my prone position and saw Frank Greco from my home town of Omaha. He asked me to contact his mother and tell her that he was alright. He did make it home later.

The medics tagged me and a few days later I was in a hospital in France and then on to England. A colonel was checking my feet and I heard him telling his assistant that he wasn’t sure about saving some of the feet he had seen. When I heard that, I said, “Please, Colonel, don’t cut my feet off, I’m short enough.” He smiled down at me and reassured me that he would do his best for me. Thank God, I’m still 5’9” tall.

... I have regretted the fact that I didn’t ask the German medic for his name and address. He was such a great human being, and so gentle and caring with me. Hopefully, he was reunited with his mother and family.