by Jane Healey
“What the hell is going on? I thought it was supposed to be quiet around here,” Blanche said.
“My guess?” I said. “The Nazis decided this dense forest was the perfect place for a surprise attack.”
“Just in time for Christmas,” Blanche said, sounding tired and depressed.
“You should sleep. Who knows how long it’s going to take us to get back?” I said. “And who knows what will be waiting for us when we do.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
December 17, 1944
Blanche and I got back before dawn and filled everyone in about Martha and Frankie before passing out on our cots for a few hours. I slept in and hitched a ride to Bastogne town square to join Viv and Dottie at about ten. It was mayhem when we got there, so many more troops and tanks and vehicles. The younger soldiers looked panicked, and the older officers were trying to figure out exactly what was happening. Belgians were on the streets too, some on horses and bikes, some pushing carts with their belongings—all of them leaving the city in droves.
Through the chaos, we tried to serve coffee and doughnuts and remain calm, but there was high anxiety in the air. I spotted Liz through the crowds in the square around lunchtime, and she made her way over to us.
“How’s Blanche doing?” she asked when I stepped out of the Clubmobile.
“Okay,” I said. “She didn’t look too good when she woke up this morning, so I told her to sleep in.”
“Good,” Liz said, nodding, looking up at the sky, distracted. “So, two things. First, we’re moving out of the château tomorrow as early as possible. To Verdun, France, a couple hours south. Nobody knows what the hell is going on, but it’s getting too hot here for us. Bastogne is a major crossroads; it would be a natural target for the Germans. Although if that’s what’s going on here, then they shocked everyone.”
“Okay,” I said. “We can help Blanche with the Uncle Sam and Frankie’s and Martha’s gear. What else?”
“Mail just arrived here for the military stationed in this area. Five whole truckloads, mostly Christmas letters and packages. The brass say if by some chance the Germans do take Bastogne, they’ll burn it all as soon as they get their hands on it.”
“So you want to get it out of here,” I said.
“Yes,” Liz said with a nod.
“Well, we could drive the trucks out of here ourselves when we evacuate,” I said. “Or, if the trucks need to stay, we could have all the Clubmobiles meet here in the morning and load as much as we can into them. We won’t be making doughnuts between here and Verdun, so we can stuff the back with mail sacks.”
“The trucks will probably need to stay,” Liz said.
“I’m sure we can get five truckloads’ worth between all of the Clubmobiles,” I said.
“I agree, we can do that first thing tomorrow,” Liz said. She walked me back over to the Cheyenne because the line was now at least fifty deep, and Dottie and Viv were giving me dirty looks, signaling they needed help.
“Oh, and Liz!” I called to her as she was walking away.
“The 106th in Vielsalm. I promised the commanding officer that we’d deliver any mail that came in for them, at least to a few of the outfits,” I said, squeezing into the window next to Viv to pass out doughnuts as we talked. “A lot of them are so new, so young. They could really use the morale boost.”
“I’m not sure it’s safe. And we’re heading to Verdun at the crack of dawn tomorrow,” Liz said, looking torn.
“We could go this afternoon. It’s a quick trip; we’ll be in and out,” I said. “Just head up there, drop it off, turn around, and be back by tonight.”
“They were pretty miserable,” Viv said. “As much as I’m not really in the mood, I’d be thinking of those poor boys—not even a letter to open on Christmas.”
“Me too,” Dottie said, poking her head out the window above ours. “And Fiona’s driving is seriously impressive now; we’ll be back in no time.”
Liz paused for a moment, considering.
“Okay, go,” she said, still unsure. “But take more than the 106th’s mail; load up as much as you can so you’re good to go for tomorrow. And promise me you’ll drop the mail to them and hurry back, no stops. Keep driving until you’re back here safe with us. Don’t make me regret this.”
“I promise,” I said. “We’ll be fine.”
Later that afternoon, Viv, Dottie, and I headed to Vielsalm in a thick, heavy fog. Though the roads were now covered with at least a foot of snow, the ground underneath hadn’t frozen, so we had to drive through a sludgy mess several inches deep. I held tight to the steering wheel, swearing one minute, the next saying silent prayers that the Cheyenne wouldn’t get stuck.
We were in another traffic jam of military vehicles heading north—armored tanks, Hillmans, jeeps with soldiers spilling out of the back. Some were better designed for the messy conditions than others. GIs dressed in full battle gear walked in single file down both sides of the roads. Some of them were wearing white camouflage suits over their uniforms. At one point, I was overcome with an uneasy feeling and considered turning around, but then I thought of the major’s plea, and I took a deep breath and kept driving.
“I think that Major Jones owes each of us one of those snowsuits for making this drive,” Viv said, shivering as she crossed her arms. “I could use another layer. I could use another six layers.”
“Couldn’t we all,” I said. We had wrapped some more of the mustard-colored wool blankets from the field hospital around our legs, but it still wasn’t enough.
“I thought this whole Ardennes region was supposed to be a quiet area where the soldiers could rest?” Dottie said. “This is anything but quiet. I hope Joe and his men are okay. I have a bad feeling about this.”
“He’s probably fine, playing with his band, drinking beers in some toasty warm café,” I said.
“You haven’t talked much about Danny. Are you doing okay?” Dottie asked.
“Yeah, I’m okay,” I said. “Since Danny’s mother’s letter, I was almost prepared to hear that kind of news. Peter just filled in the blanks. And now I just have to figure out how to get to him.”
The girls agreed, and we drove in silence for a stretch.
“And what about Peter?” Viv asked.
“He’s here somewhere, not too far,” I said, not admitting that I looked for him in the face of every officer. “I relive that night in Paris in my mind, and then I feel guilty for reliving it. And I worry about him as much as I agonize about Danny. I’m a mess.”
“Honey, who isn’t?” Viv said, patting my knee. “I’m so mad at myself for falling for Harry. Stupid Brit. It was that damn accent.”
We pulled into the base in Vielsalm a half hour later, and it was even more frenzied and chaotic than Bastogne. The shelling and ack-ack fire that I was used to hearing in the distance sounded decidedly closer than normal. I had never seen as many armored tanks in one camp before, and the queasy feeling I had on the road returned. We drove past a group of soldiers smoking cigarettes around a bonfire, waving and beeping as we always did, but instead of the usual catcalls and cheers, they just gave us odd looks.
There was a pale blond soldier who, despite the cold, was shirtless, looking into a mirror as he shaved his face. Viv whistled as we drove by, and he dropped the razor when he saw her and just gaped back.
“Jeez, even tougher crowd than yesterday. He didn’t even smile,” Viv said.
We parked near the water supply as we did the day before and jumped out to hook up so we could at least make coffee. A number of GIs started walking over to the Cheyenne, looking at us with a mixture of awe and nervousness.
“What’s the matter, sweetheart?” I said to the first soldier within earshot. “You look like you’re seeing a ghost.”
“Uh . . . I just can’t believe you’re here,” he said.
“Jesus Christ, what on God’s green earth are you gals doing here?” Major Jones came out of one of the field tents and stormed
over to us, his face red, fists clenched.
“Fulfilling our promise to you, sir,” I said, trying to keep my voice calm, though his anger had me shaking. “We brought you the mail like you requested.”
At this, his whole demeanor softened. He shook his head, looked up to the sky, and swore to himself.
“Thank you. This is my fault,” he said. “I’m so sorry, girls. Had I known . . . Our electricity has been cut off. We’ve lost all roads leading out of here, except of course the one you came in on, but it’s only a matter of time.”
“Sir, what are you saying?” I asked, frowning, afraid of the answer.
“I’m saying that yesterday it was safe here,” he said. “But the lines changed overnight. The Germans have surprised us; we never thought they’d be crazy enough to attack us in this kind of terrain or weather.”
“But they have,” Viv said.
“They have,” he said. “You’re now at the front. This is a forward command post, and things aren’t going well. Two of our regiments to the north have been captured, a few thousand men at least. And we’ve already suffered numerous casualties. There’s a good chance that we’ll be surrounded and trapped by morning.”
“And we can’t just leave now?” I said. “Back the way we came?”
“No,” he said with a kind of finality that you don’t question. “Too risky, way too dangerous. For all we know, we’re already cut off.”
“So what do we do now?” Dottie asked him in a soft voice. She looked as nervous as I felt.
“Make some coffee?” he said, giving her a smile, trying to calm her. “Pitch in at the dispensary? Lord knows the medics need the help.”
We all looked at him in silence, trying to absorb what he was saying.
“Look, I’ll try to get you out of here by tomorrow, but understand you may be walking out. Pack a musette bag, be ready to leave at a moment’s notice. I’ll have one of the guys bring over an incendiary device for your Clubmobile. If the Krauts do capture us, they’re not getting any of your supplies.”
An officer called out for him from the large tent that had been transformed into command post headquarters, and the major said good-bye and left.
“This can’t be happening,” Dottie said. She adjusted her scarf. Her hands were shaking, but this time not from the cold.
“Oh, it’s happening,” Viv said. She was pacing, swearing under her breath.
“Did he just say he wants us to bomb the Cheyenne?” I said with a groan, covering my face with my hands. “We’ve got all that mail for the other troops with us.”
We sat in stunned silence for a few minutes, and then the cold started to seep into my bones.
“All right, we might as well make ourselves useful,” I said, jumping up and down to warm myself up. “After we get our musette bags packed, let’s make some coffee and see what we can do to help with the injured.”
“But wait, what happens if we don’t get out?” Dottie asked, still trying to understand what had just happened.
Viv looked at me and shrugged.
“You mean if we get captured too?” I said. “Don’t even think about it. I promise you, we are getting the hell out of here one way or another.”
Even as I said it out loud, I wasn’t at all convinced it was true.
For the rest of the day, we did what the major suggested and pitched in, first making coffee for a few hundred soldiers coming back shaken and filthy from the line, and then helping the medics in the dispensary that evening. We were busy making soup for the wounded soldiers being brought in when we learned that we had been completely cut off, surrounded by the Germans on all sides. The news was expected at that point, and when it was announced, we just looked at each other with grim acceptance.
That night we brought our bedrolls into the mess hall and found a quiet corner to set up in. We settled into our sleeping bags, but I couldn’t fall asleep. The reality of our situation seemed clearer in the darkness of the hall as I listened to the sounds of battle just outside the walls. We were in a camp surrounded by the Germans, and, based on reports, the front lines were barely keeping them at bay. We could be captured at any moment.
“I’m going to have to wash my hair in my helmet tomorrow; I’m feeling desperate,” Viv whispered.
“Me too,” Dottie said.
“Girls, I told you, we’re going to get out of here,” I said. “We’ll figure it out.”
“Oh, really?” Viv said, her voice angry. “It’s time to stop lying to yourself, Fi. We could be wearing prison garb by tomorrow.”
“Oh please, Viv, we’re not going to be wearing prison garb,” I said, annoyed.
“You don’t know that,” Viv said, sitting up now and raising her voice. “You don’t know anything! We have as much chance of dying as we do of getting out of here.”
“That’s not true,” I said.
“You don’t really believe that, do you, Viv?” Dottie asked. We were all sitting up now, facing each other in the shadows of the mess hall.
“Oh, yes I do, and I think we all better come to terms with the fact,” Viv said, still angry and emotional. “You saw the injuries today—they’re not happening a hundred miles away. They’re happening right down the goddamn road. So frankly, Fiona, I’m tired of your whole Pollyanna act, like you’re going to figure it all out and get us out of here. The fact is, we have absolutely no control over what is happening right outside this mess hall, and we had better prepare for the worst.”
“My whole Pollyanna act? Really?” I said, furious at her words. “Would you prefer I curl up in a ball and cry? We might not have control, but I prefer trying to figure out how to take action over feeling hopeless. I prefer trying to find a way to get the hell out of here so that we won’t get killed. Maybe you should focus on that too, instead of being so negative and miserable.”
“Stop. That’s enough, both of you,” Dottie said, in a voice that I imagined she used with her elementary school classes. “This conversation is over. It’s only going to get uglier if it continues. We’re all exhausted and scared about what’s going to happen, but arguing about it won’t help. Go to sleep. Not another word.”
I started to open my mouth but thought better of it and just sighed, lay down, and rolled over so I didn’t have to face Viv. I heard her huff and do the same. That was the last thing I remembered.
The next morning, Viv and I still weren’t talking as the three of us made more coffee for the men. Dottie was eyeing both of us with annoyance as we talked to the soldiers we were serving but not to each other. Before lunch, Stan, the mess sergeant, came by to see us.
“We’ve hardly got any food left. You gals have anything?” he asked. He had a shiny bald head and a frayed apron that barely fit around his chubby frame.
“We’ve got Red Cross doughnut flour and no electricity to make doughnuts. You can have it all,” I said.
“Better than nothing. I guess we’ll make pancakes,” he said, as we helped him lug all of our bags of flour into the mess hall.
As the three of us helped him mix the doughnut flour into something resembling chunky pancake batter, I couldn’t stand the tension between me and Viv anymore, so I was the first to speak.
“You’re right, I might do the Pollyanna act sometimes, but it’s only because I don’t know what the hell else to do,” I said, grabbing Viv’s elbow as she passed by to get more flour. “I just feel desperate to get out of here. And if I don’t stay positive, I might lose my mind. Or start crying and never stop.”
“And I’m sorry I was acting nasty,” Viv said. “Dottie was right. I’m just exhausted and worried and so sick of this weather, sick of everything.”
“We all are,” I said as we hugged.
“Thank God,” Dottie said, watching as she mixed batter in a large metal bowl at the counter across from us. “Bad enough we’re stuck here, I cannot deal with you two fighting.”
“Enough with the hugging; where’s that bag of flour?” Stan barked.
&n
bsp; “Oh, getting it now,” Viv said, as she hurried over to where we had stored them.
The next several days, all of them freezing cold and snowy, blurred together as we tried not to think about being captured and kept ourselves busy in any way we could—making coffee, assisting the medics, cooking hundreds of pancakes with the mess sergeant. And of course, we did everything we could to try and comfort the soldiers. We helped tend to the wounded and tried our best to lift the spirits of the tank men and the hundreds of soldiers coming back from the line, still shaky and dazed from combat.
On Sunday morning, we woke up in our corner of the mess hall after a fitful night listening to the fighting.
“Is it me, or does it sound like it’s even closer today?” Dottie whispered.
“It’s not you,” Viv said.
“My God,” I said, looking out the window at the whiteness. “It’s snowing sideways. You can barely see anything.”
“I have good news and bad news,” Stan said, arriving just as we put the coffee on. “The good news is that an armored division and an airborne division arrived in the middle of the night. The place is thick with troops, and hopefully we’ll break through soon, because these boys are sick of K rations and coffee, and so am I. They can’t drop us any supplies by air until this goddamn weather clears.”
“What’s the bad news?” asked Dottie, eyebrows raised.
“The bad news is that German gunfire is getting closer by the hour.” And just at that moment, we heard the sound of artillery shelling coming from somewhere on the north side of the building.