Today's MOZEN: Honoring My Father

F LoBuono

The day AFTER Christmas is always an intensely emotional day for me. And, he has nothing to do with what preceded it. I had a great Christmas this year as I usually do. Instead, I see it as a day with a heightened sense of affection because I so strongly connect with my late father, Joseph.

For on this day after Christmas, in 1944, my father was battling with his brothers of General George Patton's 3rd Army to relieve the heroic defenders of Bastogne during the Battle of the Bulge:

The capture of Bastogne was the ultimate goal of the Battle of the Bulge, the German offensive through the Ardennes forest. Bastogne provided a road junction in rough terrain where few roads existed; it would open up a valuable pathway further north for German expansion. The Belgian town was defended by the U.S. 101st Airborne Division, which had to be reinforced by troops who straggled in from other battlefields. Food, medical supplies, and other resources eroded as bad weather and relentless German assaults threatened the Americans’ ability to hold out. Nevertheless, Brigadier General Anthony C. MacAuliffe met a German surrender demand with a typewritten response of a single word: “Nuts.”*

Disabled German Tiger Tank at the Bulge

Patton, instinctively knowing that Bastogne was the key to the entire battle, and maybe the WAR, executed an audacious maneuver. He pulled his men out of a pitched battle, pivoted 90 degrees, and in terrible weather conditions, drove them north nearly 100 miles in 3 days to relieve The Battling Bastards of Bastogne, the Screaming Eagles of the 101st. An advanced party of a few Sherman tanks, after intense fighting almost every step of the way, reached the beleaguered defenders on the 26th of December, 1944. The rest of the Army arrived the next day, effectively breaking the siege, ending the battle and, soon, the war.

American Infantry drives to Bastogne

My father, a combat engineer, was intensely proud of his service but rarely spoke of combat. One of the few times he did was in reference to this march and battle. He spoke of the brutal fighting and the relentless cold. He suffered ill health in his later years and blamed much of it on the horrible conditions he encountered there and then. He recalled to me shivering with his brothers in snow covered foxholes, desperately trying to conserve heat and eating an ice cold Christmas dinner out of a tin can. After that, I finally understood why he HATED the cold weather.

Engineers of the 3rd Army at Bastogne

Now, every December 26th, I find myself a nice quiet spot and have myself a good cry. And, I do mean good. My tears are not bitter but, rather, warm and real. I shed them for the sacrifice he and so many others made for all of us. I remember my father and all of  those from The Greatest Generation who gave so much, did their duty, and saved the world. These men were not professional soldiers - my father was a grocer! But, when called upon they did not hesitate. My father did not either and gave 4 years of his young life to the cause.

My father's Eisenhower Jacket with its 3rd Army patch

So, I parked myself in front of a window and let the bright winter sun and deep emotion take hold of my very soul. And, I remember him. I miss him. I love him. And, I cry

I will never forget him . . .


*www.historychannel.com