Deep in the woods…a war story

(all images from Google)

The Battle of the Bulge, for five weeks in the winter of 1944-1945, was a surprise for some, at least initially. It was brutal. It was bitterly cold, many of the wounded dying in minutes where they fell. It cost Germany 98,000 men killed, wounded or captured. The US suffered 89,000 similar casualties. (Stats from The Google)


Much of the fighting was hand to hand, bayonet to bayonet, grenade to grenade.


It was Hitler’s last roll of the dice.


Dr. Peter Caddick-Adams has written Snow & Steel, an excellent book about the battle. He includes many personal details from interviews of combatants from both sides, from the front line and in command, including civilians innocently caught up in events over which they had absolutely no control. His writing makes it possible for us, his readers, to get to know many of the participants in this epic battle. From what rightly might be called carnage, there are stories of kindness and compassion, somehow finding a way to rise from this conflict of nations.

I’m going to let Dr. Caddick-Adams introduce you to Jim, Ralph, and Herby. Possibly, you will be touched as I was.

“Deep in the woods, fifty miles further north along the front, twelve-year-old Fritz Vincken reacted to the banging at the front of his family’s lonely cottage. He quickly blew out the candles and opened the door. He found two lost GIs shivering on the doorstep, clutching a third wounded comrad. His mother immediately took charge. There could be no question of turning them away, whatever the penalties–even though the Vincken’s house was on the frontier, in Germany. Fritz was told to get some potatoes and Herman, the family rooster they had been fattening for Christmas. As the meal took shape, there was more banging at the door. Other lost Americans thought Fritz. He opened up to find four figures–dressed in shabby field grey–seeking shelter. Elisabeth Vincken invited them in, wished them frohliche Weihnachten–and offered to share the meal they could smell cooking. Then she warned them she had other ‘guests,’ whom ‘you might think of as friends.’ The Unteroffizier in charge tensed immediately, ‘Amis?’ But before they could say another word, Frau Vincken warned them: ‘This is Christmas Eve. There’ll be no shooting here’. She went on, ‘One of them is wounded and fighting for his life and all are exhausted, like you–and hungry. Any of you could be my sons. Let’s forget about killing.’ Two of the Germans were mere boys–about sixteen–and the young Unteroffizier could not decide what to do, so Frau Vincken decided for him. Put your rifles by the woodpile and come in, before you get any colder.’ Elisabeth then collected the GIs carbines also.
Fritz fetched more potatoes and his mother got on with preparing the meal. The Unteroffizier, who had been a medical student at Heidelberg examined the wounded GI. Then Frau Vincken made them all sit down to eat and said grace. ‘There were tears in her eyes,’ Fritz recalled later, ‘and as I looked around the table, I saw that the battle-weary soldiers were filled with emotion. Their thoughts seemed to be many, many miles away.’ As the tension melted, the Unteroffizier produced some wine. The GIs–who introduced themselves as Jim, Ralph, and Herby–donated their instant coffee, the rest hunks of bread or other treats they had been saving. They somehow conversed in a mixture of German, French and English. After dinner they exchanged cigarettes and Elisabeth Vincken led them outside to look up at the Star of Bethlehem. Shortly afterwards they all fell asleep in their heavy coats on the Vincken’s floor enjoying the warmth and trust they put in each other. On Christmas morning, they exchanged greetings and all helped make a stretcher for Herby. Retrieving their weapons, they shook hands and departed in opposite directions. Elisabeth Vincken never saw any of them again, but always said, ‘God was at our table that night.’
In January 1966, Fritz–who had emigrated to America–traced one of the GIs, Ralph Blank, formerly with the 121st Infantry, and the two met shortly before their respective deaths. In 2002 this moving story was used as the basis of the movie Silent Night.”