Faith Works 12-22-23

Faith Works 12-22-23
Jeff Gill

Christmas not so long ago but very different all the same
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Christmas in 1944 was by all accounts an unsettled time, both overseas and here in Licking County.

It was the previous December of 1943 that "I'll Be Home for Christmas" had launched onto the scene, embraced both at home and in the trenches as an anthem of heartfelt hope. If you've listened closely to it, you know the wistful twist that it concludes with: "if only in my dreams."

Bing Crosby is better known today for "White Christmas," but it was that new classic in 1943 that by the holiday season of 1944 had become a standard, one which made him a hero to many soldiers, sailors, and Marines. "I'll Be Home for Christmas" took unarticulated thought and gave it voice; it was requested constantly at Bing's USO shows, and during World War II had a profound impact for encouraging everyone who heard it.

They needed it, because even by Christmas 1944, the outcome was not certain. The original hearers of the song had invaded Africa, Sicily, and into southern Italy within the European Theater of Operations, then D-Day the previous summer and to Paris and beyond; in the Pacific after turning back the Japanese Navy at Midway there had been successful invasions of New Guinea and Tarawa, but at a savage cost.

And in Germany and Belgium, on December 16, 1944 there had been the launch of a new Nazi offensive, whose outcome was as yet hard to predict (unless you were Generals George Patton or Tony McAuliffe). As it turns out, the 101st Airborne, 969th Artillery Battalion, and elements of the 10th Armored Division would resist a final Panzerkorps assault on Christmas Day, and it was the last German success in the Battle of the Bulge.

On a personal note, I cannot count the number of stories I've heard over the years from elderly men who were young in 1944, and in the weeks leading up to and following that dire Christmas were on the front lines around Bastogne and in the Ardennes Forest. What all of their stories have in common is one word: cold. Bitter, biting cold. Cold so severe that it likely caused more casualties than weapons, on both sides.

And in those weeks after Christmas, as American troops pressed forward, I have heard stories of how some soldiers died seeking warmth. It seems the US uniform jackets were short, while the Wehrmacht winter uniform included a long greatcoat, one of the most coveted parts of their gear. Some of our soldiers put on those long heavy coats taken from the enemy dead, but at night when only silhouettes and shadows were clearly visible, they would be shot at as hostile troops.

Yet even as knowledge of these deaths spread, some chose to take that risk if they found a German greatcoat: it was that cold.

In that frigid Christmas and New Year season, if only to take their minds off the cold if not for a hundred other reasons, they would dream of being home for Christmas, and wondered if it would be next year.


Jeff Gill is a writer, storyteller, and preacher in central Ohio; this weekend he will help with his father-in-law's funeral, who in later years served in the 101st "Screaming Eagles." Recall your loved ones gone on before us this Christmas to knapsack77@gmail.com, or follow @Knapsack77 on Threads.