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 chateau 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.”