26 November 1944

V-MAIL

438^th AAA AW BN

APO 230 % Postmaster, N.Y.

Germany

26 November, 1944      1600

Hello Sweetheart!

This time I really only have a couple of minute’s time in which to write you, dear. It’s been and still is a very busy day from several points of view.

We are now moving our Dispensary on the main street of a fair-sized town – and above all places – inside a Department Store. Our particular section formerly was a ladies underwear department, so the boys have been trying on foundations etc. Most of them were too small for us, though.

Dispensary with a Red Cross Flag
Outside Closed Department Store
Stolberg, Germany 1944


A Market Area of Stolberg in 1990

Darling – I must stop now. I’m busier than I thought I was when I started. Will try to write tomorrow. Love to the folks.

All my love, dear

Greg

Route of the Question Mark


CLICK TO ENLARGE

(A) Hahn to (B) Stolberg, Germany (6 miles)
11 October to 26 November 1944

November 26... Stolberg. We became city dwellers again, living in a vacant department store in comparative luxury. The mess-hall had tables and benches. There was a place to show motion pictures three times a week. We were warned almost daily about "The Blonde" who lived in the cellar next door. Here we had more guard posts than you could shake a stick at. Our first casualties: the wire-crew's weapons carrier hit a mine and T/Sgt [Manuel C.] OLIVIERA, T/5 [Alfred M.] SELL, T/5 [William M.] HENSHAW, T/5 [Richard D.] DE SILVA all got the Purple Heart. Marlene Dietrich entertained us in a USO show, dressed all in gold and singing "See What the Boys in the Back Room Will Have." Paddy, the Personnel section's dog, was lost in Stolberg; we received most of our Christmas packages; T/Sgt [Sheridan F.] HAGGETT and Pfc [Mariano] CRISCIONE decorated the biggest Christmas tree in Germany only to have to abandon it two days before Christmas, for we received news that von Rundstedt had broken through our line, and we made impressive preparations to resist a paratroop attack.

25 November 1944

438^th AAA AW BN

APO 230 % Postmaster, N.Y.

Germany

25 November, 1944       1400

My dearest sweetheart –

It is actually 1415 now and I’ve just finished listening to the BBC newscast. Apparently there’s quite a war on, dear, although I don’t really need the radio to tell me that.

Today is Saturday again and this afternoon has just barely cleared out enough to have a football game – I mean if a game were scheduled. It’s quiet here now – outside and just another afternoon to kill. Afternoons have been rather un-busy these past several days – and consequently they pass very slowly. The evenings set in here now just about 1700-1715, as we’re finishing supper, and they’re long. It’s a good thing we’ve got into the habit of playing Bridge, for I’m finding that I manage to play about four nights a week anyway – and it sure does help pass an evening. We played last night and had some swell hands – including a Grand slam which my partner made – although I helped. It’s the first one I’ve ever taken part in, and I got quite a kick out of it.

I was wondering yesterday whether or not you got your Birthday present from me, darling; it seems like an awfully long time since I sent it out, but I haven’t heard a word from the APO – so I don’t know. Our APO is moving, by the way, and I suppose we won’t have any mail for another few days.

I’m sorry to disappoint you, darling, in reference to the G.I. Bill of Rights, although I don’t know all the details – it seems to me that most of the benefits apply to soldiers under 25, so I don’t believe it will help marry Professional men. I’m not worrying much about that subject though any more, dear. I’m just going to take things in stride and worry about that angle after I get back.

From what you wrote about Verna and Irv’s trip to Washington, they must have had a grand time. She corroborated that in a letter I got from her a few days ago – or did I tell you already, dear? I think Stanley will eventually remain away from Boston and from what I gather, it will probably be just as well. With a wife at odds with his friends, a good deal of unpleasantness would undoubtedly result. Verna implied that Betty was paying a good bit of the expenses, but that Stan was putting up his usually good front. I suppose you’ve heard all about this from Verna directly.

It’s exactly 1520 now and I suppose I should keep my mouth shut about it being quiet afternoons – of late. People have been coming in and out and I’ve just been able to sit down and write again, darling. I just had to send a soldier with a ruptured ear drum – to the hospital. The way he got it, I can’t tell you now – some other time perhaps, dear.

I haven’t told you yet that I love you, sweetheart, and after all – that’s what I try to tell you, successfully or not, every time I write you. It doesn’t make much difference either – whether it’s noisy or quiet here; about that, I’m always clear and I know how I feel and think. I would love so much to be with you tonight and every night, dear – instead of spending so many of these nights alone. You once wrote me – you’d never let me out of your sight once I got back; let alone sight, dear, – I don’t believe I’ll ever let you out of my arms – once I get you into them – so beware!

All for now, sweetheart, I’ll sign off for now. My love to the folks and

All my deepest love,

Greg

* TIDBIT *

about The Attempt for Grosshau

CLICK ON PICTURES TO ENLARGE
American Advances 16 November 1944 to 2 December 1944
by the 1st, 4th and 8th Infantry Divisions
and the 5th Armored Division

From "The Siegfried Line Campaign", written by Charles B. MacDonald for the U.S. Army's Center for Military History (1990), Chapter XX, page 466 comes this:

On 25 November 1944, the day before the 12th Infantry reached the woods line to provide the 22d Infantry a secure flank, Colonel Charles T. "Buck" Lanham saw a chance to capitalize on the commitment that day of the 5th Armored Division's CCR against Huertgen. In conjunction with that attack, he ordered an immediate attempt to capture Grosshau.

Colonel Charles "Buck" Lanham (right) with
author Ernest Hemingway in September of 1944

Seeking surprise, Colonel Lanham maneuvered one battalion through the woods to hit the village from the northwest while another battalion converged on it from the southwest. The plan did not work. Delayed four hours while tanks and tank destroyers picked a way over muddy trails and firebreaks, the attack lost every vestige of surprise. When the jump-off actually came at noon, coordination with the armor failed. Only three tanks and a tank destroyer emerged from the woods with the infantry. Antitank gunners in Grosshau quickly picked off the tanks. At the same time violent concentrations of artillery fire drove the infantry back. Men who had yearned for so long to escape the stifling embrace of the forest now fell back on it for refuge.

The sad results of this attack prompted the division commander, General Barton, to approve another pause in the 22d Infantry's operations. Colonel Lanham was to consolidate his positions, bring up replacements, and make detailed plans for taking Grosshau. In particular, the regiment was to make maximum use of nine battalions of artillery which were either organic or attached to the division. Here on the edge of the forest the artillery for the first time might provide observed, close-in fires capable of influencing the fighting directly and decisively.

In the meantime, on the division's north wing, Colonel Richard G. McKee's 8th Infantry on the second and third days of the renewed attack had come to know the true measure of the advantage the regiment had scored. The battalion which on 22 November had reached the junction of Road U and the Renn Weg drove northeast along Road U for more than a mile. Although subjected to considerable shelling, this battalion encountered only disorganized infantry resistance. On 24 November Colonel McKee sent this battalion northward to fill out the line between Road U and the division's north boundary and at the same time to cut behind those Germans who still were making a fight of it at Gut Schwarzenbroich. During the same two days, another battalion moved slowly against more determined resistance southeast along the Renn Weg and on 25 November surged to the regiment's south boundary. The total advance was more than a mile.

Colonel McKee's 8th Infantry stood on the brink of a breakthrough that could prove decisive. In four days, the regiment had more than doubled the distance gained during the first six days of the November offensive. The forward positions were almost two miles beyond the line of departure along Road W. Only just over a mile of forest remained to be conquered.

Yet how to achieve the last mile? The troops were exhausted. Because the leaders had to move about to encourage and look after their men, they had been among the first to fall. A constant stream of replacements had kept the battalions at a reasonable strength, but the new men had not the ability of those they replaced. For all the tireless efforts of engineers and mine sweepers, great stretches of the roads and trails still were infested with mines. Even routes declared clear might cause trouble. Along a reputedly cleared route, Company K on 23 November lost its Thanksgiving dinner when a kitchen jeep struck a mine. Every day since 20 November had brought some measure of sleet or rain to augment the mud on the floor of the forest. To get supplies forward and casualties rearward, men sludged at least a mile under constant threat from shells that burst unannounced in the treetops and from bypassed enemy troops who might materialize at any moment from the depths of the woods. Again a gap had grown between the 8th Infantry and the 22d Infantry. The gap was a mile and a quarter wide.

Medics aid a wounded soldier in the woods

With the failure of the 22d Infantry at Grosshau on 25 November, the 4th Division commander, General Barton, had at hand an all too vivid reminder of the condition of his units. Much of the hope that entry of the V Corps into the fight might alter the situation had faded with the disastrous results of the unrewarding early efforts of that corps to capture Huertgen. The successes of the 8th and 22d Infantry Regiments in renewing the attack on 22 November appeared attributable more to local maneuver than to any general pattern of enemy disintegration. General Barton reluctantly ordered both regiments to suspend major attacks and take two or three days to reorganize and consolidate.

24 November 1944

438^th AAA AW BN

APO 230 % Postmaster, N.Y.

Germany

24 November, 1944       1100

Dearest sweetheart –

The day after Thanksgiving – and if I were the type that has a big ‘head’ – on the ‘day after’ – I’d have a big head. We really had a party, a good meal, and a good time. When I finished writing to you yesterday, it was about 1430. Having nothing much to do then, I wandered over to Headquarters battery office and found a couple of other officers sitting around. Almost from nowhere, dear, a bottle of Scotch appeared and knowing that the Colonel would not object on a Holiday afternoon – we got going on that. And then it started to come. Each new officer that appeared – after our calling him on the phone, had to bring a bottle of something, half-full, full – in other words, whatever he happened to have. Well darling, the collection included the following: Scotch, Cognac, Armagnac (stronger than Cognac), Champagne, Rhine River Wine, Cointreau, Eau de Vie (which is so strong that we use it for lighter fluid), and Benedictine. I can’t guarantee the order in which they appeared, but I can assure you – everything was consumed just as soon as it appeared. Of course – we ended up with about ten officers, including the Colonel whom we called at about 1600. By this time we were singing all the old songs, trying to harmonize and not succeeding. At 1700 we went over to eat. The enclosed Menu gives you an idea of how much trouble Hq. battery went to to make the meal a better one than most. We went back to Belgium and got a printer to make up the menus, we dug up enough table cloths to cover all our wooden tables and the meal was excellent. It actually included everything you see on the Card. Keep it, darling; I’d like to see it after the war.

CLICK ON MENU TO ENLARGE

Thanksgiving Day Menu, 1944

To top off everything, we got mail and I received 3 swell letters from you – 4, 6 and 7 November. I still have a good many blank spaces, but like you, sweetheart, I’m thankful for each and every one I receive, regardless of the order or the date.

We stayed around the dinner table for an hour and a half. There was more than enough turkey for everyone, for example – we had 150 pounds of turkey for 100 men.

And get this, dear, our Special Service chased high and low and managed to dig up a film for the evening – ”Shine On, Harvest Moon”. So you see – we had a pretty good Holiday, considering there’s a war going on!

I was sorry to read in one of your letters about Barbara Siegle having a history of Rheumatic Fever. That is a bad handicap, but not so much for the fact that she can’t get a job – as for the fact that she’ll have it for the rest of her life; and if it involves her heart, too, as it so often does – she’s going to have trouble when she gets to be about 40.

Your remarks about furnishing rooms interested me, darling. There are lots of ways to furnish various rooms, no doubt, but the fundamental thing is that they must be livable. That was one thing I didn’t like about most of the English homes I managed to see from the inside. One exception was that of the Reverend I got to know in Sherborne. The others were usually cold, dark and uncomfortable.

It’s approaching time for lunch, dear, so I’ll stop now. It was swell hearing from you again and reading that you love me more and more. I feel the same way, darling, my love for you does not rest – but continues to increase, and that’s a healthy sign. My love to the folks, sweetheart – and for now – so long.

My sincerest love

Greg

* TIDBIT *

about A Lesson in Contrast

The Fighting Men
These words from Francis E. Healer of the 709th Tank Battalion describing Thanksgiving of 1944, as written on a previous page called "Hotter than Hell in the Huertgen Forest," once found on "Scorpio's" website:

Very vivid, I remember the night of 23 November 1944, in the Huertgen Forest of Germany. Company D, 3rd Platoon, was engaged in Sector 1 through Sector 4.

We were up front all night on the 23rd, as a task force. It seemed that our Tank bounced four feet off the ground, under the heavy bombardment of the artillery fire.

Our Platoon Cmmander was Lieutenant Charles Ellis, an officer who did not want to get hurt, nor did he want any of his men hurt. I recall that I never had seen Lieutenant Ellis with a gun. He was a brave officer. After the night of the 23rd, we came back to gas and re-ammunition up for the day, November 24, 1944. It was while we geared up for another up-front that I made the statement that we were going back up front, and that some of us would not come back. I just had that premonition, and sure enough it happened.

A replacement Lieutenant got into our Tank, and we moved up front. When we got to the point where we had been, we relayed on the intercom that this is far enough, it was HOTTER THAN HELL ALL NIGHT.

The lieutenant said, "This is the jump off, keep driving." In less than thirty feet, we hit a minefield and off came both tracks. Yes, we were behind enemy lines and point blank to a Pill Box, less than sixty feet in front of us. WHAM, came the 88, and then thirteen Bazookas melted us. What a mess we were in. The lieutenant jumped out and hit a shoe mine, losing his foot at about the ankle. My Gunner was hit under the chin, with one of the Bazookas, KIA. I received numerous wounds to the left leg, by 88 fire. Three compound fractures and a dud, or AP Bazooka, took out the left shoulder. Sergeant Barrett did not get a scratch, but lost hearing in both ears. In the midst of HELL, we lasted about ten minutes. It was the longest ten minutes I have ever witnessed.

I, at the time, did not know who the lieutenant was but, in 1986, I met him at Louisville. His name was Lieutenant Truman Sylvest. We had a mission to do, and we tried to do what we were told to do. The situation became serious thereafter, when some of the men with me encountered heavy resistance, and above all the use of our own equipment against us, which had been captured or stolen.

HQs and the Generals
Greg's Thanksgiving at HQ as described in his letter was in sharp contrast to that of Francis Healer. Likewise, the Generals fared better.

The snapshots that follow were 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, pp.184 and 185.

CLICK ON PICTURES TO ENLARGE

23 November 1944

438^th AAA AW BN

APO 230 % Postmaster, N.Y.

Germany

23 November, 1944       1330

My dearest fiancée –

First of all, dear, a very Happy Birthday to you. Would that I could be with you now to look at you, hold you in my arms, kiss you and tell you I love you. We’re being cheated of so much, darling, it is maddening! I know you so well, I’m engaged to you, I love you so – and I haven’t helped you celebrate one of your birthdays yet – nor you – mine.

Missing a Holiday was always a tough thing, but missing you at a time when we should be celebrating – doesn’t seem fair at all. But this is Thanksgiving – and I’m thankful for all I do have. I guess that’s the best way to look at it, darling. We should be thankful that we have each other, no matter how far removed we are; thankful we are alive so that we can experience the poignancy of our emotion – which must of necessity be experienced at a distance. I’m thankful for you, Sweetheart, and for the fate that brought us together. And I’m thankful I’m in this war – alive and well.

This Thanksgiving will be a better one for us than was last year’s, despite the fact that we’re in enemy territory. Last Thanksgiving was the most miserable one I’ve ever experienced. I believe I told you we were on a train coming down from Scotland. We had K rations only; it was foggy, damp and cold. Everything was strange and lonesome – and believe me, dear, our morale was at a pretty low ebb. It’s not too bad today – considering everything. We’re having a Turkey dinner tonight at 1700; everyone who has any wine left at all is bringing it out and we’ll try to call it a celebration. The war is going on all about us here – as you probably know from the papers and the radio – but it’s funny how we’ve learned to forget about war when we want to, and project ourselves back to an old American custom. We’ve been reminiscing all day about last year – and the good old times before that. We’ll go right on doing that for the rest of the day – and tomorrow? Tomorrow will be just another day in the life of a soldier. We’ll be real again.

The weather here has continued to be abominable and it just doesn’t seem possible that it can be so constantly cloudy and wet. Right now outside my window – it’s coming down in buckets. I think we’re getting used to it though, for we rarely look up now to see if the clouds are breaking up or not.

There was a rumor that there was going to be some mail in tonight. I guess that will be about the best part of the Holiday for us – because we haven’t received mail for 4 days now and we miss it. The last mail I received contained no letter from you, dear. There was one from Charlie Wright – who is still at Fort Dix, New Jersey; and a letter from Mrs. Kerr – the elder – in Salem.

Before I close, Sweetheart, let me wish you the happiest of years, good health and good waiting. Do not forget for one single second, darling, that you have a fiancé who loves you as he has never loved anyone, who loves you and thinks of you constantly. I always shall, dear, and my greatest enjoyment in life will be to show you that love and make you love me even more than you do now. Love to the folks, dearest, so long for a while and

All my everlasting love,

Greg

P.S. Now that you’re 21 and a Major – I suppose we can really discuss intimate things from now on huh?

L.

Greg

P.P.S. OK, OK – that will be the last crack about your age!

L.

G.

* TIDBIT *

about Churchill's "America's Thanksgiving" Speech

22 November 1944

V-MAIL

438^th AAA AW BN

APO 230 % Postmaster, N.Y.

Germany

22 November, 1944      1100

Hello Sweetheart –

Well I’m back again and ready for some more work. What with 2 letters to you – not Air Mail in the last 2 days and the V-mail, you’ll be short of mail for a short period, dear, but I’ll get going again tomorrow. In case you don’t know what I’m talking about – I’ve just returned from a 3-day pass in Belgium. It came as a surprise – and when the opportunity presented itself – I took it. It was a good change and I really relaxed – away from noise, etc.

Now I’m back and the work is really piled up for me. Therefore this short note, sweetheart, before I get started, because once I do – I’ll be busy all day. This may get out today. Tomorrow is Thanksgiving and your Birthday, darling – and I’ll be missing you more than I can tell you. I love you dear and sure would like to be with you tomorrow – but enough of that –– for now. Will write more tomorrow

All my love

Greg

* TIDBIT *

about PFC Bernard F. Hillenbrand

The following story was excerpted from an entry called "My Last Day in Combat" in a former blog called "The Hillenbrand Report," which had been written and maintained by Bernie Hillenbrand, a Purple Heart combat infantry veteran who fought in the Battle of Aachen before entering the conflict in the Huertgen Forest.

My first day in infantry combat was off Omaha Beach, France well after D-Day. As an infantry replacement I was disembarking from the Belgian troopship Leopoldville. As I descended the rope ladder to our Landing Craft Infantry (LCI), my feet were inches above a Second Lieutenant. With no warning, a huge wave hit the landing craft and smashed it against the side of the ship crushing the officer to instant death. I was covered with his blood as in a desperate move I leaped into the LCI.

In my last battle I was an Infantry Rifleman and scout. My G Company of the 18th Regiment First Infantry Divison was advancing in the Huertgen Forest near the village of Eisweiler, Germany. It was November 22, 1944. There was about three inches of snow. My major job as a scout in an attack was to lead the squad and, frankly, to draw enemy fire to assess German defenses. At times my job also was to maintain contact with American units to the right and left to be sure that we did not tangle and fire on each other.

German Infantry Gun in Huertgen Forest
22 November 1944

The forest was still dense but under almost constant artillery fire from both sides. The German units had time to dig deep defenses as this area was part of the support system of the famed Siegfried Line. This was the great barrier designed to protect the German home front. The Germans were falling back upon their supply lines and we were moving farther away from ours. This put new strains upon our supplies of fuel and ammunition and all the necessities of war. Our morale was high. We were winning. German morale was low. They were now fighting for their survival.

My immediate concerns were to be an effective scout for my comrades to keep from getting killed. On that day we started at first light and were under constant artillery and motor fire. The greatest terror however was the presence of land mines, both the large ones designed to blow up tanks and the smaller ones designed to inflict terrible wounds. The favorite of the Germans was the “Jumping Mine”, made of wood and designed to leap a few feet into the air before it exploded. They inflicted wood fragments that were difficult to detect on X-rays and caused losses of arms and legs. Our greatest fear was the loss of manhood.

Profound fear was constant. Strangely enough the great antidote for fear for me was my sense of duty to be a good soldier and proud member of my Division. My life depended on my comrades and their lives depended upon me. This bond helps you keep your sanity. Another great factor for survival in infantry combat is profound fatigue. It becomes almost like a drug, deadening your senses to the extent that you can do terrible things with ease; things that would be impossible were you rested. “Kill or Be Killed” was posted everywhere in training camps but was not needed on the battle field.

We moved through the forest parallel to a narrow dirt road. We drew machine gun and mortar fire most of the day, losing many men. We also eliminated several fortified places took some prisoners and inflicted casualties. We suffered enormous casualties most of whom were brand new replacements. It seemed to me that this day would never end. Dark comes as a blessing to all infantry men. The forward motion comes to a halt. It is now time to dig a fox hole and cover it with wooded branches to afford some protection from the constant shelling.

Certain men become vital to your survival. They seem to know more about war than do you. They are leaders who you know have your best interest at heart. In war your salvation depends on obedience to orders. However, you have far more respect to a command when you admire the man who is giving it. My hero was Staff Sergeant Bodner. He was very private and I don’t even know his first name. We had come to the end of the winding forest road where it entered into a large open space. There was a bank about 12 feet high on one side of the road. Bodner asked me to help him lay two large anti-tank mines at the head of the road. The earth was frozen solid so we lay the mines on the surface and covered them with snow so that they would not be visible to approaching Panzers. The two of us then climbed to the top of the bank and together dug a shallow fox hole. Somehow we dug through the frozen ground and the roots of a tree. It was a terrible night. The artillery increased in intensity and the trees were cut down like wheat in the field. Our hole was down maybe three feet and we had a couple of limbs over the top.

The war finally caught up with Sergeant Bodner. At the height of one barrage he said he was going to cross over the road to the basement of a burned out barn. He was determined. I got on top of him and held him in our position until dawn. It was a struggle and Bodner started to break up. Somehow I kept him down but just at day light he won. He broke loose and jumped out and ran towards the barn. I opened a can of C ration and took one bite when I went black. I was unconscious. When I came to I was outside the fox hole and could see that it appeared to be a mortar hit. My first view was my left hand. It was swollen and looked more like a piece of meat than a hand. The snow was bright red and I realized that I had lost a lot of blood. I felt blood flowing from my shoulder and down my back.

It was obvious that the Germans had spotted our position and I had better move. I crawled back from the edge. There were more mortar rounds and continuous shelling. As I started back to the command post a replacement Lieutenant who I did not recognize took one look at me and asked it I could make it unaided to the aid station which he said had been established up the dirt road in the basement bottom of a burned out farm building. I told him I could. I started to move through the snow toward the road when another barrage started. There was a slight depression in the snow and I dove for it. Our runner Harry Kolasa stumbled in on top of me. At that instance a huge shell hit the tree above and huge pieces of steel hit Harry in the back and killed him instantly. I was covered with his blood and mine.

I next staggered to the road and followed in an old tank track, careful not to get out of the rut and hit a land mine. I had a separate fear that I might pass out in the snow and freeze to death. I managed to reach the aid station with great relief that once there my chances of survival were excellent. In the next 18 months I served temporary limited service in France and Germany to relieve our crowded hospitals. At the war's end I returned to surgeries and rehabilitation in Germany, Belgium, England and France and three American hospitals. My left hand was partially restored as were my other wounds. I was discharged June 14, 1946 after slightly over three years service.

Bernie Hillenbrand passed away Oct. 5, 2018 at age 93.

21 November 1944

438^th AAA AW BN

APO 230 % Postmaster, N.Y.

Germany

21 November, 1944        1030

Good Morning, darling –

Well. I’m still on that 3-day pass – but this is the 3rd and final day. Of course – we still have the whole day ahead of us and we don’t go back until 0900 tomorrow.

It hasn’t been an hilarious time and yet – it has turned out much better than I expected and I’m glad cause it’s been a long time more than several hours in a row – and it’s an enjoyable sensation. The bunch of fellows from other outfits who happen to be here at the same time as we – turned out to be a very nice gang. There are Artillery, Engineer, Infantry, Armored Division etc. officers here – and you might think there’d be a lot of talk about recent events, personal accounts of action – and the like; but there hasn’t been. Everyone here seems intent on just relaxing, sleeping, eating – and I suppose I must confess, darling – drinking, too. The drinking situation is and isn’t like that in London when we had time off. It’s like it in that when you buy a drink, they charge you all sorts of prices, a bottle of cognac costs roughly $12.00, and when you buy one you find it has been diluted; the situation differs in that the Army has provided several opportunities for officers in combat in the forward areas to order liquor from time to time – and most of us brought some along. I brought some cognac and Scotch. We have one large lounge or living room – this is an apartment type hotel – and several of us sit around, drink, sing and reminisce about the good old days in the States. That by the way, Sweetheart, is the chief subject always – wherever soldiers are.

For one reason, I’m anxious to get back to duty – and that is to see if there’s any mail, dear. It seems as if I’m completely out of touch with you when a couple of days go by and I don’t read one of you letters telling me about what you’re doing etc. There are a lot of little things – but all together, dear, they make me visualize you, your surrounding and your activities – and that’s what I’m living on, sweetheart, that and the thought that someday our activities will be mutual – and that we’ll be able to tell each other our thoughts rather than write them. I love you, darling, and the one thing I want to do is get home and marry you and live with you. The wonderfulness of that thought is almost difficult to imagine – but wonderful – it will be I’m sure –

Darling – the boys are ready to leave and walk downtown – so I’ll stop now. I’ll write tomorrow from battalion. So long for awhile, then – and love to the folks.

All my sincerest love, dear –

Greg

* TIDBIT *

about a Veteran's Tale of the Huertgen Forest

Alexander "Sparky" Kisse served with the 28th "Bloody Bucket" Division in Europe through December of 1944. He was a replacement when he joined the 112th Regiment, Company F in September of 1944. He served in the Huertgen Forest during the early days of November, 1944. The following two videos are interviews with Sparky, made possible by his son, William Kisse, who posted them on YouTube and wrote, "This is my tribute to my Dad's service, patriotism and sacrifice - and ALL who served with honor, and is an inspiration to us all."

The first is more than 40 minutes and the second over an hour - and they are worth every minute of listening.

20 November 1944

438^th AAA AW BN

APO 230 % Postmaster, N.Y.

Germany

20 November, 1944       1315

My dearest sweetheart –

In the first place, I did not get a chance to write you yesterday and in the second place – it was Sunday and the stores were closed. But let me start at the beginning, dear.

For no reason at all – our Corps started giving 3 day passes to a city in Belgium. I’ve been there on business – before. Two passes were available for officers in our battalion – so the Colonel sent Lt. Bowman – our adjutant – and me. That was nice of him, considering it was not solicited. So without further ado, I packed my musette bag and away we went. The Army makes all arrangements and we were given a hotel room – fair – gratis; there is also an officers’ mess in town and a bar. That was yesterday. I didn’t bring stationery because I felt certain there would be some here; but I was wrong – and so I couldn’t write; Today I bought this – but I’m sending it ‘Free’ because no stamp service is available. We’ll be here until Wednesday a.m. and then a truck will pick us up; not bad for the middle of a war. Incidentally – all this happened last Saturday p.m. and we took off early Sunday – yesterday a.m.

We had a quiet day yesterday – but interesting. We couldn’t get into the shops – of course – but we window shopped. In the p.m. we walked along the main drag and I suggested to Bill that we drop into the next hotel we came to – just to see who was in the lobby. We did – and found no one there but a Belgian clerk who spoke good English. He told us the place was taken over by the Air Corps and we chatted awhile. He was called away for a few seconds and we just waited around. As we did – the desk phone rang and an old Belgian who couldn’t speak English asked me to take the call. A voice said “I want to speak with Admiral Byrd.” I thought first I hadn’t heard correctly so I asked him to repeat the name. Again the request sounded like Admiral Byrd. I thought it was the Air Corps having its joke and I was already to say “O.K. – cut it out, who do you want?” Before I had the chance the voice said “Byrd – B-Y-R-D” and just then the regular clerk returned and took the call. He said – “wait a minute” – and went upstairs. In 2 seconds, darling, he came down – and yes – following him – was Admiral Byrd! It wouldn’t have taken much to knock me over. Admiral Byrd here in Belgium on a Sunday p.m.! Well – he spoke for a couple of minutes and then when he finished – he walked over to where we were standing – at attention – and said – “That was General ––”. (I’d better not write the name.) That was the payoff, sweetheart, for I had come very close to telling a pretty important General to stop kidding around and get down to business. Well – I‘ve had some funny experiences, but that one goes down as among the strangest.

Incidentally, the Admiral continued to talk with us for about 5 minutes. He noticed that I was in the Medical Corps and asked me about the Evacuation of patients, etc. And then he went off and we scrammed!

In the late p.m. we met an Engineer – also on a pass. He was somewhat of a screwball but good fun and the 3 of us went around from café to café drinking beer. I almost forgot to tell you, dear. After Byrd left – we stood around for awhile and as we took off – a small dog - ½ chow ½ Pekinese started following us. Well he followed us all day, down to the Officer’s mess, into the bars etc. So we kept him – or her, rather, and despite the sex – I named her Admiral. We’ve still got it and we’ll probably take it back with us.

CLICK ON PICTURES TO ENLARGE

Greg with Admiral in Belgium

Today, dear, it has been raining and we’ve just lolled around taking it easy. We’ll probably see a movie in the evening. It’s quite a change from the damned artillery and all that goes with it.

So darling, that’s all for now. I sure could do with you – right here – although I could do with you anytime – as far as that goes. I miss you loads wherever I happen to be and always shall. For now, dear, so long, love to the folks – and

My everlasting love –

Greg

* TIDBIT *

about Admiral Byrd

Admiral Byrd, 1947

Rear Admiral Richard Evelyn Byrd, Jr., United States Navy (25 October 1888 – 11 March 1957) was a naval officer who specialized in feats of exploration. He was a pioneering American aviator, polar explorer, and organizer of polar logistics.

Byrd was a descendant of one of the First Families of Virginia. His ancestors include planter John Rolfe and his wife Pocahontas, William Byrd II of Westover Plantation, who established Richmond, and Robert "King" Carter, a colonial governor. He was the brother of Virginia Governor and U.S. Senator Harry F. Byrd, a dominant figure in Virginia Democratic Party between the 1920s and 1960s; their father served as Speaker of the Virginia House of Delegates for a time. Byrd attended the Virginia Military Institute before financial circumstances inspired his transfer to the United States Naval Academy in 1912. He learned to fly in World War I during his tour with the United States Navy. He developed a passion for flight, and pioneered many techniques for navigating airplanes over the open ocean.

In 1927 non-stop flights across the Atlantic Ocean had not yet been accomplished, and Byrd joined the race to make it happen. However, during a practice takeoff with Tony Fokker at the controls and Bennett in the co-pilots seat, the Fokker Trimotor airplane, America, crashed, severely injuring Bennett and slightly injuring Byrd. As the plane was being repaired, Charles Lindbergh won the prize. But Byrd continued with his quest, and with three others flew from New York on 29 June 1927 to the coast of Normandy, crash-landing near the beach at Ver-sur-Mer, France, without fatalities on 1 July 1927.

The next year, Admiral Byrd began his first expedition to the Antarctic involving two ships, and three airplanes. A base camp named "Little America" was constructed on the Ross Ice Shelf and scientific expeditions by snowshoe, dog-sled, snowmobile, and airplane began. Photographic expeditions and geological surveys were undertaken for the duration of that summer, and constant radio communications were maintained with the outside world. After their first winter, their expeditions were resumed, and on 28 November 1929, the famous flight to the South Pole and back was launched. Byrd, along with pilot Bernt Balchen, co-pilot/radioman Harold June, and photographer Ashley McKinley, flew the Ford Trimotor to the South Pole and back in 18 hours, 41 minutes. After a further summer of exploration, the expedition returned to North America on 18 June 1930.

Byrd's Ship, 1930

On his second expedition, in 1934, Byrd spent five winter months alone operating a meteorological station, Advance Base, from which he narrowly escaped with his life after suffering carbon monoxide poisoning from a poorly ventilated stove. Unusual radio transmissions from Byrd finally began to alarm the men at the base camp, who then attempted to go to Advance Base. The first two trips were failures due to darkness, snow, and mechanical troubles. Finally, Dr. Thomas Poulter, E.J. Demas, and Amory Waite arrived at Advanced Base, where they found Byrd in poor physical health. The men remained at Advanced Base until 12 October when an airplane from the base camp picked up Dr. Poulter and Byrd.

In late 1938, Byrd visited Hamburg and was invited to participate in the 1938/1939 German "Neuschwabenland" Antarctic Expedition, but declined. Instead, Byrd's third expedition was his first to have the official backing of the U.S. government. The project included extensive studies of geology, biology, meteorology and exploration. Within a few months, in March 1940, Byrd was recalled to active duty in the Office of the Chief of Naval Operations. The expedition continued in Antarctica without him. From 1942 to 1945 he headed important missions to the Pacific, including surveys of remote islands for airfields. On one assignment he visited the fighting front in Europe. It was on this assignment that he chatted with Greg in the lobby of a hotel in Belgium.

The fourth culminating expedition, Operation Highjump, was the largest Antarctic expedition to date. In 1946, US Navy Secretary James Forrestal assembled a huge amphibious naval force for an Antarctic Expedition expected to last six to eight months. Besides the flagship USS Mount Olympus and the aircraft carrier USS Philippine Sea, there were thirteen US Navy support ships, six helicopters, six flying boats, two seaplane tenders and fifteen other aircraft. The total number of personnel involved was over 4,000. The armada arrived in the Ross Sea on 31 December 1946, and made aerial explorations of an area half the size of the United States, recording ten new mountain ranges. The major area covered was the eastern coastline of Antarctica from 150 degrees east to the Greenwich meridian.

As part of the multinational collaboration for the International Geophysical Year 1957–58, Byrd commanded the U.S. Navy Operation Deep Freeze I in 1955–56, which established permanent Antarctic bases at McMurdo Sound, the Bay of Whales, and the South Pole. Byrd died in his sleep on 11 March 1957 at his Brimmer Street home in Boston. He was buried in Arlington National Cemetery.