Another link sent to me by Jim Hennessey.

Breakfast at the Bulge

A fellow cadet Don Murray story

This really isn't a Christmas story so much as a Christmas parable - call it The Parable of the Rash Judgement and What Befell Him Who Exercised It.

In December, 1943, I was one of about 100 pre-aviation cadets assigned to the 55th College Training Detachment at Gettysburg College, Pennsylvania. As Christmas approached, it was decided to grant a few days' holiday leave to a limited number of men. I was not one of the lucky few. Rashly, I refused to accept a lonely Christmas in Gettysburg. With or without a three-day pass, I would go home for Christmas in New York.

It matters not how I managed to slip away undetected from Gettysburg on the morning of Christmas Eve. I boarded a bus for Harrisburg, caught the first train for New York and was on my way. No sooner was I in my seat in a car full of Christmas travelers - some in uniform like me, most in mufti - than in strode two MP's, their white Sam Browne belts and black armbands generating terror in my guilty soul. I prepared to surrender quietly and be shipped to Leavenworth.

But they were not checking for passes and furlough papers. Filled with the Christmas spirit, they greeted each serviceman cheerfully as they moved down the aisle. They didn't notice my ashen face and trembling hands when they passed my seat and wished me Merry Christmas. They did not return during the remainder of the three-hour trip, but I never unclenched my fingers until the train stopped at Penn Station.

Boarding the Long Island Railroad train I became aware that I was drenched with sweat. By the time I walked in the front door at home, I was weak and dizzy. My mother, an RN, hustled me off to bed and called the family doctor. I had a fever of 102. "Flu," said the doctor. "Stay in bed for the next two or three days," he said. When he had gone, I confessed. "Dad," I said, "I can't stay beyond tomorrow. I'm AWOL." To my Spartan father, a doughboy in World War I who never broke a rule, I might just as well have admitted to murder.

I don't remember Christmas Day, except being sick and remorseful. My father raged quietly about my shameful escapade. I was a pariah in my own home. Toward the end of the day, I began to feel a little better, and Dad and I discussed how to get me back to Gettysburg alive and, if possible, without arriving under military arrest. Despite my feeble protests, he said he was going with me. On the morning of December 26th, we boarded the LIRR for Penn Station. An hour later we were on a train for Harrisburg. I took the window seat; Dad took the aisle and opened the NY Times as if it could serve as a curtain concealing his dishonorable son. I pulled my GI overcoat up to my neck and feigned sleep, remaining in that position for the entire miserable journey. Again the car was filled with holiday travelers, again MP's roamed the aisles and again I was not accosted. I began to think I might get away with it. We left the train at Harrisburg, boarded the bus for Gettysburg and arrived late in the afternoon - but in plenty of time to get to the college in a taxi, safe at last. ..

An hour before cadets on pass had to report back, my father and I stood on the steps of the college Administration Building as he prepared to leave for the bus station. He was quiet for a few moments, then he stuck his hand out and said "You'd better see a doctor." I nodded. We shook hands, and I said, "I'm sorry for what I did, Dad, but thanks for coming with me." He looked at me for a long time and then turned to go down the steps to the cab. And then, to my surprise, he looked back, smiled and said, "Take care of yourself, son." He didn't hear my whispered "Merry Christmas, Dad" as the cab drove off.

That evening as I sat wearily on my bed, the staff sergeant who served as barracks chief stuck his head in the door. He was not a favorite with us. "Hey," he barked, as I looked up expecting the worst. Since I had never been authorized to leave on Christmas Eve, I had not dared to report back. Did he know?

"Have a nice Christmas?" he asked with a grin, adding, "I didn't see you around."

"It was OK, Sarge," I said, "but I think I caught a cold.".

"Better get over to the Dispensary, then," he said and closed the door. I did that. An hour later I was hospitalized with a strep throat infection that would keep me there for a week. .

And that was Christmas, 1943.

This was taken from an editorial page (thanks for pointing this out Jim Hennessey)

U.S. paid high price to push back Hitler

December 16, 2004

Our position is: Americans must never forget sacrifices made by U.S. soldiers in World War II's bloodiest battle.

The Belgian people remember well the price paid by U.S. soldiers who stopped the onslaught of German troops in the biggest and bloodiest battle of World War II, which began on this date 60 years ago.

Neither should Americans forget the Battle of the Bulge, a surprise attack that was Hitler's last chance to reverse the Allied advance that began in Normandy on D-Day. More than 76,000 Americans were killed, injured or reported missing during fierce fighting and harsh winter conditions from Dec. 16, 1944, to Jan. 28, 1945.

The Germans, far outnumbering U.S. troops, hoped to seize the port of Antwerp in order to split U.S. and British forces. Through the battle, Americans faced a barrage of tank and artillery fire in the Ardennes forest of Belgium and Luxembourg. The fight got its name from the German advance to the "bulge" in the Meuse River. In the town of Bastogne in southeast Belgium, U.S. troops led by Gen. Tony McAuliffe, commander of the 101st Airborne, held the line until reinforcements arrived.

During a recent interview with The Star's John Strauss, state Rep. Ben GiaQuinta of Fort Wayne, an Army private who served on a machine-gun crew during the battle, remembered the bitter cold and narrow escapes from death: "I saw a lot of guys get killed right around me."

Fred A. Woodress of Muncie, a 20-year-old Army private with the 87th Infantry in 1944, says he will say a silent prayer today "for our 18-, 19- and 20-year-old friends who left their lives in Belgium acing Hitler's last gamble."

A star-shaped memorial outside of Bastogne honors the Americans who fought 60 years ago. And in a nearby museum visitors' book, CNN reports, a simple message from Erica Flegel of Indiana reads: "Thanks, Granddad." We share in saying thanks to those who fought.

Maybe I dont belong here but was a Combat Engineer in training in 1944 at Ft. Belvoir

and at end of combat eng. training my whole group along with many other groups were

suddenly transferred to Camp Howze TX for advanced infantry training for casualtiies

replacements in the infantry for 6 weeks then immediately shipped overseas to Inf.

units as casualty replacements. to France. Here I joined the 3rd Inf. Div. as a dogface

infantryman casuallty replacement and fought from France, thru to Austria till wars end.

However I believe the combat engineer training was at least as tough as infantry training and did teach me much which helped me survive. Joe

Just got this letter from my friend Glory a few minutes ago. I'm still shaking my head after the week I've had. I think I'm in the Twilight Zone. Is that Rod Serling I seek lurking in the distance??

Marion how are you? It has been a while since I emailed you, or for that matter done anything online. Been totally busy and then we were on a trip so we have been gone, but the reason I am emailing you is I had the neatest experience in Dallas, Texas on a layover we had. We had about a 3 hour layover so we had time to get to know the airport, so much fun, but actually this time it was neat to have a layover. There was a man at a bookstore there in the airport, and I walked by but was intrigued, so I stopped and it was a man by the name of James Megellas, and he was signing books, he had written a book "All the Way to Berlin", he was in the 82nd airborne, and he was wearing all his medals and it was so exciting to talk to him. I talked a bit to him, had him sign my book and then went to where our gate was and started reading the book. Well it was so interesting that I read so much of it and had a question so I went back and he was still there and I talked to him at length. Such a priviledge to meet him and talk to him, very exciting. At any rate, I just wanted to tell you that. Well hope this finds you well and all. Glory