The FReeper Foxhole Remembers Our Troops at Christmas - (Dec 1776 - Dec 2003)- Dec 25th, 2003

Various

[SAMWolf]

Lord,

Keep our Troops forever in Your care

Give them victory over the enemy...

Grant them a safe and swift return...

Bless those who mourn the lost.
.

FReepers from the Foxhole join in prayer
for all those serving their country at this time.

...................................................................................... ...........................................

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As we celebrate another Christmas in the United States,
please take a moment to remember those that gave up spending Christmas with their family and friends so that we may enjoy our Christmas in peace.

Dear Soldier, Sailor, Airman, or Marine:

You don’t know me, but I know you. You were the boy next door, the kid who delivered my paper, the skinny girl in my daughter’s gymnastics class. You played ball with my son and worked summers at my favorite burger joint. We have probably never met, but I know you.

You are a brother, sister, favorite niece or nephew, and someone’s best friend. You are the child of parents who love you more than they can explain, feel pride words can’t carry, and bear a weight of worry they never dreamed possible.

There are probably a thousand things you’d rather be doing than what is before you now or what may be asked of you soon. Combat is always possible when one wears the uniform, yet you donned it with full knowledge of the risks. Not everyone would do it; but this time the decision was yours. You chose to serve.

The type of people we consider heroes is kind of odd when you think about it: athletes chasing records, movie stars and musicians, some of whom likely adorn posters in your old room back home. Yet these folks rarely sacrifice more than time and effort, pursuing ambitions that profit only themselves. There’s nothing wrong with that in itself; it’s what most of us do in some form or another. It’s just not the stuff of heroes.

You, on the other hand, hazard your life for a wage that has many military families on food stamps. You wager it for an ideal and a way of life, not wealth or fame. If the chips fall wrong, the price you pay is for others. Who’s the hero? We’ll probably never know your name; I suspect you don’t care. My own children are just short of military age but I have raised them to do what is right because it is right, not for gain, glory, or even gratitude. If these things come, so much the better. If not, your success is no less because personal reward wasn’t the object in the first place.

Despite a few noisy voices, history shows the price of freedom is nothing less than blood. It is not bought so much as leased, a fact some have forgotten after years of relative peace and the increasingly unrestrained license that has come to pass for liberty. I admit some of us thought your generation might be the first to lose sight of that altogether. We were wrong, and I’m glad.

I’d have written sooner but I’ve been pretty busy. If that sounds shallow, I suppose it is. At least it finally occurred to me I have the luxury of busyness with career and family because you and hundreds of thousands like you are willing suit up, ship out, and take your chances. Seeing your young face on television, a face I have seen at the playground and on the high school volleyball team and in the grocery store, drives home how very much you have on the line. The least I can do is drop a note to say thanks.

I do know you, and I know your family. I know how anxious they are and how much they want for your future. I understand how tremendously proud they are. The rest of us are too, even if we’re too wrapped up enjoying the freedoms you protect to remember to say it.

Please look after yourself and be as careful as you can. I will be praying for you and your family. We all want you home safe.

Merry Christmas

Sincerely,

A Grateful American

Christmas 1776



Washington was able to assemble a force totaling about 7,000 by the last week of December 1776. If he was to use this force, he would have to do so before the enlistments expired on December 31. With great boldness, Washington formulated a plan to strike by surprise at the Hessian garrisons at Trenton and Bordentown on Christmas night, when the troops might be expected to relax their guard for holiday revelry. A Continental force of 2,400 men under Washington's personal command was to cross the Delaware at McConkey's Ferry above Trenton and then proceed in two columns by different routes, converging on the opposite ends of the main street of Trenton in the early morning of December 26. A second force, mainly militia, under Col. John Cadwalader was to cross below near Bordentown to attack the Hessian garrison there; a third, also militia, under Brig. Gen. James Ewing, was to cross directly opposite Trenton to block the Hessian route of escape across Assunpink Creek.


Trenton, New Jersey, 26 December 1776. General Washington here matched surprise and endurance against the superior numbers and training of the British, and the Continental Army won its first victory in long months of painful striving. Trenton eliminated 1,000 Hessians and drove the British from their salient in New Jersey. It saved the flagging American cause and put new heart into Washinton's men. Alexander Hamilton's Company of New York Artillery (now D Battery*, 5th Field Artillery) opened the fight at dawn, blasting the bewildered Hessians as they tried to form ranks in the streets.

Christmas night was cold, windy, and snowy and the Delaware River was filled with blocks of ice. Neither Cadwalader nor Ewing was able to fulfill his part of the plan. Driven on by Washington's indomitable will, the main force did cross as planned and the two columns, commanded respectively by Greene and Sullivan, converged on Trenton at eight o'clock in the morning of December 26, taking the Hessians completely by surprise. A New England private noted in his diary for the 26th: "This morning at 4 a clock we set off with our Field pieces and Marched 8 miles to Trenton where we ware attacked by a Number of Hushing and we Toock 1000 of them besides killed some. Then we marched back and got to the River at Night and got over all the Hushing." This rather undramatic description of a very dramatic event was not far wrong, except in attributing the attack to the "Hushings." The Hessians surrendered after a fight lasting only an hour and a half. Forty were killed and the prisoner count was 918. Only 400 escaped to Bordentown, and these only because Ewing was not in place to block their escape. The Americans lost only 4 dead and 4 wounded.



www.americanrevolution.com

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Christmas 1777

The images are heartrending, dramatic and so powerful that they are embedded in the nation's historical consciousness: Bloody footprints in the snow left by bootless men. Near naked soldier wrapped in thin blankets huddled around a smoky fire of green wood. The plaintive chant from the starving: "We want meat! We want meat!"



These are the indelible images of suffering and endurance associated with Valley Forge in the winter of 1777-78.

"An army of skeletons appeared before our eyes naked, starved, sick and discouraged," wrote New York's Gouverneur Morris of the Continental Congress.

The Marquis de Lafayette wrote: "The unfortunate soldiers were in want of everything; they had neither coats nor hats, nor shirts, nor shoes. Their feet and their legs froze until they were black, and it was often necessary to amputate them."

A bitter George Washington - whose first concern was always his soldiers - would accuse the Congress of "little feeling for the naked and distressed soldiers. I feel superabundantly for them, and from my soul pity those miseries, which it is neither in my power to relieve or prevent."



The suffering and sacrifices of the American soldiers at Valley Forge are familiar, iconic images, but there is another side of the picture. Valley Forge was where a new, confident, professional American army was born.

Three months of shortage and hardship were followed by three months of relative abundance that led to wonderful changes in the morale and fighting capabilities of the Continental Army.

Most important, it was at Valley Forge that a vigorous, systematic training regime transformed ragged amateur troops into a confident 18th century military organization capable of beating the Red Coats in the open field of battle.

• Background •

For several weeks American forces camped about 20 miles from Philadelphia in Whitemarsh along high hills that were ideal for defense. Howe tried to lure Washington from his impregnable position in December, but after a few minor skirmishes withdrew back to Philadelphia.



Some in Congress -- now safely in York, Pa. - urged Washington to attack the British in Philadelphia, but the commander-in-chief realized it would be suicidal. His men were worn out and ill-equipped. Even before Valley Forge, there was a supply crisis. Many soldiers were already shoeless and their uniforms in tatters.

It was normal for 18th century armies to cease combat during the coldest months and take up "winter quarters." Washington was looking for a place to rest his army that would "afford supplies of provisions, wood, water and forage, be secure from surprise and best calculated for covering the country from the ravages of the enemy."

He sought the opinions of his generals on the best location for the winter encampment. There was no consensus, and Washington was forced to decide the matter alone.

On December 12th, the troops began the move from Whitemarsh to the west bank of the Schuylkill River at Valley Forge. It was a 13 mile march that was delayed and took eight days.

The troops crossed the Schuylkill on a wobbly, makeshift bridge in an area called the Gulph. They were forced to bivouac at the Gulph for several days after a snowstorm and several days of icy rain made roads impassable. On December 18th the soaked and miserable troops observed a Day of Thanksgiving declared by Congress for the American victory in October at Saratoga, N.Y.



Joseph Plumb Martin, a Connecticut Yankee, who wrote a fascinating account of his years in the Continental Army recalled that thanksgiving dinner decades later: "We had nothing to eat for two or three days previous except what the trees of the forests and fields afforded us, but we must now have what Congress said, a sumptuous Thanksgiving to close the year of high living. . . . it gave each man half a gill (about half a cup) of rice and a tablespoon of vinegar!"

On the 19th, the famished troops finally marched into Valley Forge. The ragged soldiers might have thought the worst was over, but they were wrong.

Valley Forge - 25 miles from the city - was a good choice. It is a high plateau that might have been designed by a military engineer. One side is protected by the river. Two shallow creeks provide natural barriers that would present problems for attacking cavalry and artillery. Any attackers would have to charge up-hill.

Where the Valley Creek entered the Schuylkill was a small village, giving the area its name. It contained a complete iron-making operation owned by two Quaker families, the Dewees and Pottses.

A cache of American military stores had been placed at Valley Forge. After the Battle of Brandywine the British had learned of the cache and raided the village, seizing the goods and burning houses. Arriving American troops found trees in the area but little else.

• Suffering •

The troops arrived at Valley Forge in time for Christmas, but there was no holiday feast. Already the men's diaries spoke bitterly of a diet of "fire cakes and cold water." A fire cake was simply a flour and water batter fried on a griddle. The morning after Christmas, the men awoke to find four additional inches of snow on the ground. The first priority was the building of huts. An order issued by Washington spelled out the style and size of the Spartan quarters.



Every 12 men would share a 16x14 foot log hut with walls six and a half feet high. Each would have a stone fireplace. The roof would be of wood board. Most huts were built in a pit about two-feet below the ground. Generally, there was only a dirt floor and some sort of cloth covering for a door. The huts were drafty, damp, smoky and terribly unhealthy.

The primitive shelters were laid out in regular patterns to form streets. Officers built their huts behind the enlisted men's cabins. These were similar in construction but, perhaps, not as crowded.

Housing the Army was fairly simple. Clothing and feeding the troops was a daunting challenge.



Transportation was the major stumbling block. The supplies were out there. Getting them to Valley Forge seemed impossible. Roads were rutted quagmires. It was difficult to recruit wagoneers. Continental money was nearly worthless, so Pennsylvania farmers often hid their horses and wagons rather than contract with the Army.

The man in charge of military transportation, Quartermaster General Thomas Mifflin hated his job. Mifflin was a wealthy Philadelphia merchant and a born politician who wanted glory on the battlefield not the headaches of transportation. He literally ignored the job.

It wasn't until the spring when Washington's most capable general, Nathanael Green, took over the quartermaster's post that supplies began to move in decent quantity.

• An Unhealthy Life •

The first priority of the soldiers was keeping warm and dry. The troops faced a typical Delaware Valley winter with temperatures mostly in the 20s and 30s. There were 13 days of rain or snow during the first six weeks.

Illness, not musketballs, was the great killer. Dysentery and typhus were rampant. Many makeshift hospitals were set up in the region. The Army's medical department used at least 50 barns, dwellings, churches or meetinghouses throughout a wide area of Eastern Pennsylvania as temporary hospitals. These places were mostly understaffed, fetid breeding grounds of disease. All were chronically short of medical supplies.



Much of the sickness was traceable to unhealthy sanitation and poor personal hygiene. Washington constantly complained of the failure to clear the encampment of filth, which included rotting carcasses of horses. The commander-in-chief even issued orders concerning the use and care of privies, but men relieved themselves wherever they felt.

"Intolerable smells" finally prompted Washington to issue orders that soldiers who relieved themselves anywhere but in "a proper Necessary" were to receive five lashes.

In the absence of wells, water was drawn from the Schuylkill River and nearby creeks. Men and animals often relieved themselves upstream from where water for drinking was drawn.

One of Washington's major worries was an outbreak of small pox. Inoculation was still relatively new and controversial, but the General was a firm believer in the procedure. The winter before at Morristown, N.J., he ordered inoculation for all those who had not already had the disease. A survey at Valley Forge showed many vulnerable soldiers. Some 3,000 to 4,000 men were vaccinated.

Knowing how unhealthy the congested the huts were, Washington ordered windows cut for circulation in the spring and even encouraged some to move from their squalid quarters into tents.

Just how many became seriously ill during the Valley Forge encampment and how many died of these illnesses is not known. Even in the mild weather of late spring, the medical department informed Washington that 1,000 men were too ill for combat. Those who died at camp or in hospitals has been estimated as high as 3,000.

www.ushistory.org

[SAMWolf]

Christmas 1861 - 1864

Ralph Sturtevant, 13th Infantry, December 25, 1862, Fairfax Court House, Va.:

"Our regiment spent Christmas in camp and no duty. We thought of home and knew that many a stocking would not be found in its accustomed place, and the usual Christmas dinners and parties likely in many homes would be omitted because of fathers and sons in the army. I recall our cooks made extra efforts to have something nice for dinner on this Christmas day. We had pork and beans that had been roasted and baked all night in a bed of coals hot for dinner, boiled rice with good sale molasses or muscavade sugar, old government Java coffee, nice hard tack, (worms all shook out), sweet potatoes and corned beef, and all this cooked in good shape. We thought it a dinner fit for a king and all were merry."

(From Ralph Orson Sturtevant, Pictorial History: Thirteenth Vermont Volunteers, War of 1861-1865, Privately published, 1910).

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Corporal J. C. Williams, Co. B, 14th Infantry, "Life in Camp," December 25, 1862:

"This is Christmas, and my mind wanders back to that home made lonesome by my absence, while far away from the peace and quietude of civil life to undergo the hardships of the camp, and may be the battle field. I think of the many lives that are endangered, and hope that the time will soon come when peace, with its innumerable blessings, shall once more restore our country to happiness and prosperity."

(From John C. Williams', Life in Camp. (Claremont Mfg Co, Claremont, N.H.,1864).

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Gilbert J. Barton, Company I, of Charlotte, recorded a some of the hardship of camp in his diary entry for that day:

Dec 25th Christmas. Had hard Tack soaked in cold water and then fried in pork Greece [sic]. Fried in a canteen, split into[sic] by putting into the fire & melting the sodder[sic] off. We pick them up on the field left by other soldiers, also had coffee & pork. Ordered up at 5 this morning with guns ready, as it is reported that there are 400 Rebel Cavalry not far off prowling around. Foggy morning.

(This extract from Barton's diary is courtesy of the collection of Mike Hankins, as transcribed by Fred Salter)

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"The Christmas Morning Furlough- Christmas, 1863", and comes from an original 1863 Harper's Weekly. The center image shows a Union soldier returning home for Christmas furlough. His son can be seen wrapped around his leg, and he is being warmly embraced and kissed by his wife. Friends and family are pictured in the background delighted to see him. His hat and blanket are seen on the floor. The room is decorated for Christmas, and has a banner welcoming the soldier home.

The image on the left has Santa looking at two small sleeping children. In the lower left is an inset image of the true Christmas- Christ in the manger at Bethlehem. The lower inset image shows the family enjoying Christmas dinner, with the Father cutting the Turkey. The image on the right shows the children on Christmas morning opening the stockings hung over the fireplace.

Diary of Oliver A. Browne, Co. K, 15th Vermont, in camp south of Washington:

Dec. 24. Very pleasant weather. The 14th (14th Reg VI) went out to Centerville this morning for picket duty. They are going to have a game of rest tomorrow it being Christmas. Most of the boys are out of money and they will be obliged to pass the day on hard tack and salt pork, which will be rather dry, I think.
Dec. 25. Christmas Day, and I am on a bunk getting my boots tapped, and so passed the day.

(From Oliver Browne's diary, courtesy of Frank Brown, great-grandson of Oliver A. Browne)

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History of the 10th Vermont Infantry, Chaplain Edwin Haynes, December 1863:

"Christmas and New Year's were very pleasantly remembered in this winter camp, though observed somewhat differently than they had been on former occasions and in other places. Still the American will ever remember his holidays, and, if possible, celebrate them with such ceremonies as his ingenuity may suggest or his means and condition enable him to improve. We had "select" dinner parties, with rare entertainment; music by our excellent band, speeches, and minor festivities of a more general character. One of the incidents of Christmas day was a procession formed by all who were permitted to be festive, headed by a donkey, the gravest ass of the company, mounted by an impersonation of Old Nicholas. This procession moved about the camp to the music of fife and drum, much to the amusement of both the participants and the lookers-on. Lieutenant-Colonel Chandler nominally commanded this merry expedition, but the donkey, being a little obstinate and difficult to ride in a straight line, really became the solemn chief of the occasion. There were other far more brilliant exhibitions with and around us, but probably none where the participants became more innocently jolly."

(From Edwin Mortimer Haynes' A history of the Tenth Regiment, Vermont Volunteers, with biographical sketches of the officers who fell in battle, (Tenth Vermont Regimental Association, Lewiston, Me., 1870 )

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Journal of Portus Baxter Smith, Corporal, Co. H, 11th Vermont Infantry:

Dec 24 - Today we have been to work on our chimley and have got it done. We made it out of wood and mud and it works nicely. Tonight is Christmas eve and there is a good deal of noise in the different regiments. Guess some of the boys have had something to take but I do not find much to busy myself about. Dec 25 - Sunday and I have been writing home. We have had a Company Inspection at one o'clock. About 4 0'clock we had a Dress Parade. We formed a hollow square and the Chaplain Mr. Little preached a short sermon. Signed the papers for admittance today.

(From Portus Smith's Journal courtesy of Caroleanne Smith Paulis/Photopoulos, great-granddaughter of Portus Baxter Smith)

www.vermontcivilwar.org

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A Florida Lad's Four Christmases
from the diary of Robert Watson, of Key West



Dec. 25, 1861 (at Pinellas Point, today's St. Petersburg, as a member of Capt. Henry Mulrenan's company of Florida Volunteer Coast Guard, the Key West Avengers)

"Took dinner with Mr. George Rickards and a splendid dinner it was. We spent a very agreeable day at his house and at night he had some of the best egg nog I ever drank."

Dec. 25, 1862 (at Tampa, as orderly sergeant of Co, K, 7th Florida Regiment, on parole following capture Sept. 2 near Boston, Ky.)

"Christmas day and I was in bed all day from chills and fever. I ate nothing and as there is no liquor in the place of course I drank nothing. I have been since ever since last date (Dec. 14) and I see no prospect of getting any better for I am in worse health than when I arrived here."

Dec. 25, 1863 (at Dalton, Ga., following action at Chickamauga)

"All the prisoners except the officers were armed with Colt's 5 shooting rifles." [the 21st OVI] and Missionary Ridge "a bullet struck my knapsack at the right shoulder and came out at the left shoulder, making 23 holes in my blanket."

"Christmas day and a very dull one but I find a tolerable good dinner. I had one drink of whiskey in the morning. There was some serenading last night but I took no part in it for I did not feel merry as my thoughts were of home. We have been very busy building winter quarters since last date (Dec. 11), and they are now finished and quite comfortable."



Dec. 25, 1864 (at Charleston, S.C., following his transfer to the C.S. Navy, after firing the Ram Savannah in the Savannah River during that city's evacuation, and en route to Battery Buchanan at Fort Fisher)

"Christmas day. Turned out at 6 AM, very cold. We were ordered to hold ourselves in readiness to leave at moments warning. 20 men were sent to the Ram Charleston, all the balance except the Savannah's crew went to James Island. I went in a boat to carry a lot of officers and marines, head winds and tides, miserable old leaky boat, very slow. In coming back we were hailed by the Ram Chicora, went alongside and the officer in charge of the boat went aboard and remained there 1/2 hour and it was raining all the time. Our officer got in the boat and just as we shoved off he was ordered on board again for he did not have the countersign and they were not satisfied. He remained 1/2 hr longer when one of the officers came down with a latern and looked at our faces. He knew one of the men that belonged to the Indian Chief so he was satisfied and let us go. Was hailed and brought to Castle Pickney and had the same trouble over again, finally started and got on board the Indian Chief at 10 PM tired and wet, put on my only suit of clothes and turned in. This ends Christmas day. The poorest I ever spent."

extlab1.entnem.ufl.edu

[SAMWolf]

Christmas in the Trenches
Christmas, 1917 found the 69th Regiment in France in the old Roman town of Grand. Midnight mass was celebrated by Father Duffy. On the morning of the 26th, the 165th started down a road built by Caesar’s legions, on their way to their assigned area, Longeau. Under fed, under clothed and poorly shod they hiked through a blizzard, over mountain passes for four days and four freezing nights. According to one medical officer the march "made Napoleon's retreat from Moscow look like a Fifth Avenue parade." It was a matter of pride to the men of the 69th that no one fell out. Only those who fell unconscious from exhaustion were picked up by the ambulances following the march.

(Joyce Kilmer wrote a short story, "Holy Ireland," inspired by some of his experiences during this march.)



He had hiked seventeen miles that stormy December day - the third of a four days. The snow was piled high on our packs, rifles were crusted with ice, the leather of our nailed boots was frozen stiff over our lamed feet. The weary lieutenant led us to the door of a house in a side street.

"Next twelve men," he said. A dozen of us dropped out of the ranks and dragged ourselves over the threshold. We tracked snow and mud over a spotless stone floor. Before an open fire stood and the three children - a girl of eight years, a boy of five, a boy of three. They stared with round frightened eyes at les soldats Americains, the first they had ever seen. We were too tired to stare back. We at once climbed to the chill attic, our billet, our lodging for the night. First we lifted the packs from one another's aching shoulders; then, without spreading our blankets, we lay down on the bare boards.

For ten minutes there was silence, broken by an occasional groan, an oath, the striking of a match. Cigarettes glowed like fireflies in a forest. Then a voice came from the corner.

"Where is Sergeant Reilly?" it said. We lazily searched. There was no Sergeant Reilly to be found. "I'll bet the old bum has gone out after a pint," said the voice. And with the curiosity of the American and the enthusiasm of the Irish we lumbered downstairs in quest of Sergeant Reilly.

He was sitting on a low bench by the fire. His shoes were off and his bruised feet were in a pail of cold water. He was too good a soldier to expose them to the heat at once. The little girl was on his lap and the little boys stood by and envied him. And in a voice that twenty years of soldiering and oceans of whisky had failed to rob of its Celtic sweetness, he was softly singing "Ireland isn't Ireland any more." We listened respectfully.



"They cheer the King and then salute him," said Sergeant Reilly.

"A regular Irishman would shoot him," and we all joined in the chorus, "Ireland isn't Ireland any more."

"Ooh, la, la I" exclaimed Madame, and she and all the children began to talk at the top of their voices. What they said Heaven knows, but the tones were friendly, even admiring.

"Gentlemen," said Sergeant Reilly from his post of honor, "the lady who runs this billet is a very nice lady indeed. She says yez can all take off your shoes and dry your socks by the fire. But take turns and don't crowd or I'll trun yez all upstairs."

Now Madame, a woman of some forty years, was a true bourgeoise, with all the thrift of her class. And by the terms of her agreement with the authorities she was required to let the soldiers have for one night the attic of her house to sleep in - nothing more; no light, no heat. Also, wood is very expensive in France - for reasons that are engraven in letters of blood on the pages of history. Nevertheless-

"Assez-vous, s'il vous plait," said Madame. And she brought nearer to the fare all the chairs the establishment possessed and some chests and boxes to be used as seats. And she and the little girl, whose name was Solange, went out into the snow and came back with heaping armfuls of small logs. The fire blazed merrily -more merrily than it had blazed since August, 1914, perhaps. We surrounded it, and soon the air was thick with steam from our drying socks.

Meanwhile Madame and the Sergeant had generously admitted all eleven of us into their conversation. A spirited conversation it was, too, in spite of the fact that she knew no English and the extent of his French was "du pain,” “du vin," "cognac" and "bon jour." Those of us who knew a little more of the language of the country acted as interpreters for the others. We learned the names of the children and their ages. We learned that our hostess was a widow. Her husband had fallen in battle just one month before our arrival in her home. She showed us with simple pride and affection and restrained grief his picture. Then she showed us those of her two brothers - one now fighting at Salonica, the other a prisoner of war - of her mother and father, of herself dressed for First Communion. This last picture she showed somewhat shyly, as if doubting that we would understand it. But when one of us asked in halting French if Solange, her little daughter, had yet made her First Communion, then Madame's face cleared. "Mais oui!" she exclaimed. "Et vous, ma foi, vous etes Catholiques, n'est-ce pas?" At once rosary beads were flourished to prove our right to answer this question affirmatively. Tattered prayer-books and somewhat clingy scapulars were brought to light. Madame and the children chattered their surprise and delight to each other, and every exhibit called for a new outburst.



"Ah, le bon S. Benoit! Ah, voila, le Conception Immacule! Ooh la la, le Sacre Coeur!" (which last exclamation sounded in no wise as irreverent as it looks in print). Now other treasures, too, were shown - treasures chiefly photographic. There were family groups, there were Coney Island snapshots. And Madame and the children were a gratifyingly appreciative audience. They admired and sympathized; they exclaimed appropriately at the beauty of every girl's face, the tenderness of every pictured mother. We had become the intimates of Madame. She bad admitted us into her family and we her into ours.

Soldiers - American soldiers of Irish descent - have souls and hearts. These organs (if the soul may be so termed) had been satisfied. But our stomachs remained - and that they yearned was evident to us. We had made our hike on a meal of hardtack and "corned willy." Mess call would sound soon. Should we force our wet shoes on again and plod through the snowy streets to the temporary mess-shack? We knew our supply wagons had not succeeded in climbing the last hill into town, and that therefore bread and unsweetened coffee would be our portion. A great depression settled upon us.

But Sergeant Reilly rose to the occasion. "Boys," he said, "this here lady has got a good fire going, and I'll bet she can cook. What do you say we get her to fix us up a meal?"

The proposal was received joyously at first. Then someone said: "But I haven't got any money." "Neither have I - not a damn sou!" said another. And again the spiritual temperature of the room fell.

Again Sergeant Reilly spoke: "I haven't got any money to speak of, meself," he said. "But let's have a show-down. I guess we've got enough to buy somethin' to eat."

It was long after pay-day, and we were not hopeful of the results of the search. But the wealthy (that is, those who had two francs) made up for the poor (that is, those who had two sous). And among the coins on the table I noticed an American dime, an English half-crown and a Chinese piece with a square hole in the center. In negotiable tender the money came in all to eight francs. It takes more money than that to feed twelve hungry soldiers these days in France. But there was no harm in trying. So an ex-seminarian, an ex- bookkeeper and an ex-street-car conductor aided Sergeant Reilly in explaining in French that had both a brogue and a Yankee twang that we were hungry, that this was all the money we had in the world, and that we wanted her to cook us something to eat.

Now Madame was what they call in New England a "capable" woman. In a jiffy she had the money in Solange's hand and had that admirable child cloaked and wooden-shod for the street, and fully informed as to what she was to buy. What Madame and the children had intended to have for supper I do not know, for there was nothing in the kitchen but the fire, the stove, the table, some shelves of dishes and an enormous bed. Nothing in the way of a food cupboard could be seen. And the only other room of the house was the bare attic.

When Solange came back she carried in a basket bigger than herself these articles: 1, two loaves of war-bread; 2, five bottles of red wine; 3, three cheeses; 4, numerous potatoes; 5, a lump of fat; 6, a bag of coffee. The whole represented, as was afterward demonstrated, exactly the sum of ten francs, fifty centixnes.



Well, we all set to work peeling potatoes. Then, with a veritable French trench-knife Madame cut the potatoes into long strips. Meanwhile Solange had put the lump of fat into the big black pot that hung by a chain over the fire. In the boiling grease the potatoes were placed, Madame standing by with a big ladle punched full of holes (I regret that I do not know the technical name for this instrument) and keeping the potato-strips swimming, zealously frustrating any attempt on their part to lie lazily at the bottom of the pot.

We forgot all about the hike as we sat at supper that evening. The only absentees were the two little boys, Michel and Paul. And they were really absent only from our board - they were in the room, in the great built-in bed that was later to hold also Madame and Solange. Their little bodies were covered by the three-foot thick mattress-like red silk quilt, but their tousled heads protruded and they watched us unblinkingly all the evening.

But just as we sat down, before Sergeant Reilly began his task of dishing out the potatoes and starting the bottles on their way, Madame stopped her chattering and looked at Solange. And Solange stopped her chattering and looked at Madame. And they both looked rather searchingly at us. We didn't know what was the matter,, but we felt rather embarrassed.

Then Madame began to talk, slowly and loudly, as one talks to make foreigners understand. And the gist of her remarks was that she was surprised to see that American Catholics did not say grace before eating like French Catholics.

We sprang to our feet at once. But it was not Sergeant Reilly who saved the situation. Instead, the ex-seminarian (he is only temporarily an ex-seminarian, he'll be preaching missions and giving retreats yet if a bit of shrapnel doesn't hasten his journey to Heaven) said, after we had blessed our- selves: "Benedicite: nos et quae sumus sumpturi benedicat Deus, Pater et Filius et Spiritus Sanctus. Amen."

Madame and Solange, obviously relieved, joined us in the Amen, and we sat down again to eat.



"Joe," said Sergeant Reilly, "do you realize how much trouble that woman took to make this bunch of roughnecks comfortable? She didn't make a damn cent on that feed, you know. The kid spent all the money we give her. And she's out about six francs for firewood, too - I wish to God I had the money to pay her. I bet she'll go cold for a week now, and hungry, too.”

"And that ain't all," he continued, after a pause broken only by an occasional snore from our blissful neighbours. "Look at the way she cooked them pomme de terres and fixed things up for us and let us sit down there with her like we was her family. And look at the way she and the little Sallie there sung for us. "I tell you, Joe, it makes me think of old times to hear a woman sing them Church hymns to me that way. It's forty years since I heard a hymn sung in a kitchen, and it was my mother, God rest her, that sang them. I sort of realize what we're fighting for now, and I never did before. It's for women like that and their kids.

"It gave me a turn to see her a-sitting their singing them hymns. I remembered when I was a boy in Shangolden. I wonder if there's many women like that in France now - telling their beads and singing the old hymns and treating poor traveling men the way she's just after treating us. There used to be lots of women like that in the Old Country. And I think that's why it was called 'Holy Ireland.'

Joyce Kilmer

[SAMWolf]

Christmas, 1944
Europe. December 24, 1944. I think of the hundreds of thousands of American GIs throughout the ETO, many waiting for midnight to come and bring with it a hoped-for gift of respite, many more fighting and dying in the Ardennes where the Germans had counterattacked eight days earlier. (On December 16, 1944, the Germans had launched their largest offensive of the war on the Western Front. The primary goals of the offensive were to capture the Belgian port of Antwerp and to drive a wedge between the British and American armies. This offensive is often referred to as the "Battle of the Bulge." Its failure was due largely to American resistance around St. Vith, on the northern shoulder of the Bulge, and by American forces holding Bastogne on the southern shoulder of the Bulge.)



I think that many veterans, when they remember Christmas '44, must think of Bastogne. The town is strategically located at the center of the road network of the Ardennes. The Germans referred to it as a "road octopus" since the majority of roads in that region of the Ardennes pass through the town. The town's strategic location made it vitally important to the outcome of the offensive. The Allies realized its importance and General Eisenhower dispatched the 101st Airborne Division to hold the town at all costs. And many veterans surely remember the story of its being surrounded by the advancing Germans. Harry O. Kinnard, who was there, tells the rest of the story:

We got into Bastogne late on the night of 18 December, 1944. We were not well equipped, having just gotten out of combat in Holland. We were particularly short of winter clothing and footwear. On the 21st of December we became completely surrounded by Germans and our field hospital was overrun by a German attack. We had put the hospital in what would normally have been a safe place, but no place is safe when you are completely surrounded. At this time, we were not able to receive air resupply because the weather was absolutely frightful. It was very, very cold and snowy. Visibility was often measured in yards. Our lack of winter gear was partially offset by the citizens of Bastogne who gave us blankets and white linens that we used for camouflage.

While we were still surrounded, on the morning of December 22, a German surrender party, consisting of two officers and two NCOs, and carrying a white flag, approached our perimeter in the area of our Glider Regiment, the 327th. The party was taken to a nearby platoon command post. While the enlisted men were detained the officers were blind folded and taken to the command post of the 327th, where they presented their surrender ultimatum. The ultimatum in essence said the 101st's position was hopeless and that if we elected not to surrender a lot of bad things would happen.

The message was brought in to the Division Headquarters by Major Alvin Jones, the S-3, and Colonel Harper, the Regimental Commander. They brought the message to me, the G-3 and Paul Danahy, the G-2. My first reaction was that this was a German ruse, designed to get our men out of their foxholes. But be that as it might, we agreed that we needed to take the message up the line. We took it first to the acting Chief of Staff of the Division, Lt. Col. Ned Moore. With him, we took the message to the acting Division Commander, General Tony McAuliffe. Moore told General McAuliffe that we had a German surrender ultimatum. The General's first reaction was that the Germans wanted to surrender to us. Col. Moore quickly disabused him of that notion and explained that the German's demanded our surrender. When McAuliffe heard that he laughed and said: "Us surrender? Aw, nuts!" the date was December 22, 1944.



But then McAuliffe realized that some sort of reply was in order. He pondered for a few minutes and then told the staff, "Well I don't know what to tell them." He then asked the staff what they thought, and I spoke up, saying, "That first remark of yours would be hard to beat." McAuliffe said, "What do you mean?" I answered, "Sir, you said 'Nuts'." All members of the staff enthusiastically agreed, and McAuliffe decided to send that one word, "Nuts!" back to the Germans. McAuliffe then wrote down: "To the German Commander, "Nuts!" The American Commander."

McAuliffe then asked Col. Harper to deliver the message to the Germans. Harper took the typed message back to the company command post where the two German officers were detained. Harper then told the Germans that he had the American commanders reply. The German captain then asked, "Is it written or verbal?" Harper responded that it was written and added, "I will place it in your hand." The German major then asked, "Is the reply negative or affirmative? If it is the latter I will negotiate further." At this time the Germans were acting in an arrogant and patronizing manner and Harper, who was starting to lose his temper, responded, "The reply is decidedly not affirmative." He then added that, "If you continue your foolish attack your losses will be tremendous."

Harper then put the German officers in a jeep and took them back to where the German enlisted men were detained. He then said to the German captain, "If you don't know what 'Nuts' means, in plain English it is the same as 'Go to Hell'. And I'll tell you something else, if you continue to attack we will kill every goddam German that tries to break into this city." The German major and captain saluted very stiffly. The captain said, "We will kill many Americans. This is war." Harper then responded, "On your way Bud," he then said, "and good luck to you." Harper later told me he always regretted wishing them good luck.

---

GENERAL McAULIFFE’S CHRISTMAS MESSAGE — 1944


General Anthony McAuliffe

Headquarters, 101st Airborne Division
Office of the Division Commander

24 December 1944

What’s Merry about all this, you ask? We’re fighting – it’s cold – we aren’t home. All true, but what has the proud Eagle Division accomplished with its worthy comrades of the 10th Armored Division, the 705th Tank Destroyer Battalion and all the rest? Just this: We have stopped cold everything that has been thrown at us from the North, East, South, and West. We have identifications from four German Panzer Divisions, two German Infantry Divisions, and one German Parachute Division. These units, spearheading, the last disparate German image, were headed straight west for key points when the Eagle Division was hurriedly ordered to stop the advance. How effectively this was done will be in history’s not alone in the Division’s glorious history but in the World history. The Germans actually did surround us, their radios blared our doom. Their commander demanded our surrender in the following arrogance:

To the U.S.A. Commander of the encircled town of Bastogne.

The fortune of war is changing. This time the U.S.A. forces in and near Bastogne have been encircled by strong German armored units. More German armored units have crossed the river Our near Ortheuville, have taken Marche and reached St. Hubert by passing through Hompre-Sibret-Tillet. Libramont is in German hands.

There is only one possibility to save the encircled U.S.A. troops from total annihilation: that is the honorable surrender of the encircled town. In order to think it over a term of two hours will be granted beginning with the presentation of this note.

If this proposal should be rejected one German Artillery Corps and six heavy A. A. Battalions are ready to annihilate the U.S.A. troops in and near Bastogne. The order for firing will be given immediately after this two hours' term.

All the serious civilian losses caused by this artillery fire would not correspond with the well known American humanity.

The German Commander.

---

To the German Commander:

Nuts!

The American Commander

www.skylighters.org

[SAMWolf]

Christmas Korea 1951
T'was the night before Christmas
and all thru the tent
was the odor of diesel
since the stovepipe was bent.

The stockings were hung
rather close to the fire
in hopes that by morning
they'd be somewhat drier.

The squad was asleep
bundled up in their sacks
and dreaming of goodies
like cookies and snacks,

Like crispy fried chicken
straight out of the South
and a midwestern steak
that would melt in your mouth.

When out on the hill
there arose such a clatter..
a Commie machine gun
had started to chatter,



The Sgt. Grabowski
appeared at the door
"People", he yelled,
"get your feet on the floor,

Grab rifles and flares
and bring me a BAR,
you're climbing that hill
but you ain't goin' far,

Let everyman here
take along a grenade,
and when you get back
don't expect a parade,

I've had it to here
with this damn nightly riot,
So we're gonna make sure
that tomorrow it's quiet".

Then off we went hunting,
Us seven through snow
On a night where the wind
made it twenty below.



Now, Allen and Russell
and Clyde McElroy
had the priviledge of being
our only decoy.

They got some attention
with the Hell they did raise
I suppose I'll remember
for the rest of my days,

While Sutton and Smitty
and Connor and me
provided surprises
that was ugly to see.

It was over in minutes
and when it was done
there were four bloodly bodies
and a busted up gun.

Grabowski was waiting
as 'ere we came in,
and that tough weathered face
had managed a grin,



"People," he said,
"I think you done good
by striking a blow
for our brotherhood,

So, let everyman here
get back in his sack,
go back to his dreams,
and forget the attack.

It's now Christmas morning,
so be of good cheer.
Merry Xmas to all,
May you live till next year!"

Chosin Few Veteran, Bob Hammond,
57th Field Artillery Battalion,
7th Division

www.lilesnet.com

[SAMWolf]

CHRISTMAS EVE,
DONG HA,
VIETNAM 1966
The young Marine sat in a shallow, wet foxhole with a few sand bags piled in front of it. He was huddled under his poncho. It was raining, as usual, and dark.

"This is the darkest place in the world," he thought to himself. His thoughts tried to drift to something warm and dry but couldn't. He wondered if he would ever dry out again. His boots and socks had been wet for weeks and he could not get them dried out. The rain was incessant. If it wasn't pouring it was drizzling constantly. It was cold.



He sat shivering, thinking, "What happened to that damned heat they had heard so much about?" He had only been in country about three weeks and in Dong Ha about two weeks now, but it was beginning to seem like a lifetime. Just over eleven months and one week to go. That was a lifetime he thought.

They would have a fire in the fireplace at home tonight. It was one of the few nights they did. It was his first Christmas Eve away from home.

The dark. He stared into it trying to get a glimpse of some movement, hoping not to see any because he didn't know how he would react. He was trained for this, but there was still the nagging doubt. It was so dark, it seemed like a nightmare. He could barely make out the first string of barbed wire about twenty feet in front of him. At least there was no fog tonight.

This country was strange; it either had the darkest dark or the thickest fog he had ever seen. There was absolutely no light at night. No stars, no moon. He hadn't even seen the sun during the daytime.

Funny, he thought, how the senses play tricks or...did they? He had heard all the rumors of how quietly the VC moved through the wire. He was always thinking he heard or saw something. The strain and fear were tremendous at this point, but he would soon find he could live with it or get used to it.



The only exception for light was when they thought they heard or saw something. They would call on the land line and request some light, which was ridiculous. When they called, someone behind them would crank up a diesel powered generator to generate the electricity for the spotlights. With the time it took and all the noise it made, the enemy could easily have disappeared back into the bush.

The other two Marines with him were also new to the country. They were all on perimeter guard duty and had been since their arrival. They knew they were in for a long harrowing night. They knew there should be no intrusions because the sergeant of the guard was as frightened as they were and did not make any rounds, and the North Vietnamese had agreed to a truce. The NVA did not always abide by the rules, but the guard duty had been uneventful up to this point.

The young Marines were still afraid.

The young Marine turned to his two buddies and told them he had a little something to celebrate Christmas Eve with and warm them up. It was a fifth of Japanese whiskey he had bought from the black market. They only had water to chase it with and cold C-rations but they would make do.



They were sitting in the rain, gagging on the rotten whiskey and getting warmer and braver by the minute, when the land-line rang. They figured it was just the sergeant of the guard checking on them. It was the sarge, but he was announcing the coming of the company commander and gunny. The three Marines scrambled to get rid of the bottle of whiskey and hoped no one smelled the liquor. They figured the rain would probably take care of that.

Soon the Captain and Gunny arrived carrying gifts of Christmas. They had brought the first mail, since they had arrived, and some soft drinks, proclaiming a couple of beers awaited each of them when they got off duty. Each of the Marines had received a package in the mail. They thanked their superiors as they left and began opening their mail. The two other Marines had received cookies and assorted goodies.

The first Marine, on opening his package, was shocked to find two fifths of Old Fitzgerald bourbon decanters in it. One of his best friends back in the world had come through on Christmas Eve.

They had one hell of a party that night--not too rowdy though--in the small wet hole in the middle of a war zone. They quickly overcame their fears, discussing how they could take on the whole NVA that night and forgot the cold and wet, just hoping for some kind of action.



They were three drunk Marines that night; there was no enemy activity, lucky for them; and they had one hell of a hangover Christmas morning. They had at least a better Christmas Eve than they had envisioned.

Epilogue

The young Marine, who received the bourbon, probably or subconsciously came to the conclusion that alcohol could help overcome that war and anything else in life. He left Vietnam well on his way to becoming a functional alcoholic.

Twenty-six years later, he was admitted to the hospital with acute alcoholic hepatitis and spend three weeks in ICU fighting for his life again and going though severe alcohol withdrawals. Nine months later, his health still declining, he received a life-saving liver transplant and is now alcohol free. He celebrated his first year anniversary with his new liver in September 1994.

STEPHEN "RAGS" RAGLE

grunt.space.swri.edu

[SAMWolf]

Christmas in Afghanistan
Afghanistan. Woke up about 0530Z (1030 local) and made myself some oatmeal and espresso. Ate my oatmeal and enjoyed a cigar with the espresso. We had a soccer game with the Romanians starting at 0700Z. Let me start with the soccer field. We’re not talking a field of grass here. We’re not even talking a field of dirt. The soccer field is about 50 yards long and about 20 wide. The goals are slightly miniaturized too. They’re approximately 8-feet wide and 6-feet high. Tents and bunkers surround the field. There’s exposed tent stakes and grounding rods down the sidelines. Ropes run from the tent stakes to their respective attachment point on their tents. The field itself is half gravel, ¼ mud and ¼ dirt. The gravel is large, sharp shale. Any fall will certainly end in a loss of blood. The parts that are dirt have tire tracks baked into them. Rough 6-inch slits waiting to break an ankle.



Before the game we all take to the field and try to “smooth” out the tire tracks with our feet. In front of the southern-most goal is a huge puddle of mud and water. It’s approximately 12-feet across and sits 6-feet from the front of the goal. If the Air Force safety Nazis were to see us playing on this field, they’d have a hey-day. They’d literally stop the game and ask, “What the hell were you thinking?” The size of the field limits each team to 6 players plus a goalie. There’s no uniforms, no jerseys, just a bunch of guys that want to have some fun and share a little Christmas camaraderie. The game starts with me in the goal. Later on I switch with someone and play in the field. Before switching though, I do leave a small amount of my blood in front of the goal. Payment extracted by the gravel and my competitive nature. The Romanians kick our ass 12-to-4. We all had fun though and surprisingly, no one got hurt.

It’s about 1000Z and we just arrived in line at the chow tent. We get the call “rescue on alert-15”. We all run back to camp and scramble for the airplanes. Apparently a 3-year old girl was playing with unexploded ordinance. It’s no longer “unexploded”. The Army MEDEVAC helo’s take off. We pull backup. The little girl is not hurt to bad but will probably lose her right eye. A miracle considering the circumstances.



After about 45-minutes of “alert-15” we herd back to the chow tent. The menu: roast beef, turkey (canned), ham, Alaskan king crab, collard greens, mixed vegetables, dressing and corn on the cob. Inside there’s pasta salad, boiled shrimp, cranberry sauce and several types of pies. A great meal considering.

We’re now back in our tactical operations center, just hanging out. Later, some of the SEAL’s from across the base stop by and invite us to their Christmas party. They have turkey’s (real ones), roast beef and ham, some awesome beans with sausage in them and rice. We hang out for awhile bullshitting and eating. I manage to sneak in a beer.

We head back to the ops tent for a showing of Lord of the Rings. Get to bed about 2330. All-in-all, a great Christmas spent with a great group of people. One that I’ll remember forever. I hope yours was half as good as mine spent with those you love. Come to think of it, as good as today was that’s the one thing missing. Those I love. Peace.

Bob



David Lettermen stopped by Air Force Hill yesterday (24 Dec) and mingled with the troops. Cool. The Air Force contingent here is fairly small, approximately 200 folks. Dave brought Paul Schaffer and Biff with him too. We all just stood around and bullshit for about 30-minutes. Dave signed some autographs and we all took pictures. I went up and asked him to trade cigars. He gladly agreed. So, I now have a cigar from David Letterman. I plan on smoking that one tomorrow morning. I was going to smoke it today (Christmas) but the soccer game with the Romanians took longer than expected and then we got scrambled to pick up a 3-year old girl who was playing with unexploded ordinance. The ordinance, needless to say is no longer unexploded. We didn't actually get launced, one of the Army medevac helo's got her. She will probably lose her right eye. I'll right about Christmas day under a separate email. For now, Peace.

Bob

CMSgt Bob Holler

www.pjsinnam.com

[SAMWolf]

Our Military Today
Christmas In Iraq Today

Soldiers of the U.S Army's 4th Infantry Division (Task Force Ironhorse) attend a Christmas candlelight service on Christmas Eve in a military camp outside the town of Baquba, in central Iraq, December 24, 2003. REUTERS/Shamil Zhumatov


Soldiers from the 1-22 Batallion of the U.S. Army's Fourth Infantry Division sing Christmas carols during a Christmas Eve service and supper at their barracks in Tikrit, Iraq, the home town of former Iraqi President Saddam Hussein (news - web sites), December 24, 2003. REUTERS/ Zohra Bensemra


Italian bishop Angelo Bagnasco, right, presents a statuette of the Christ child to an Italian soldier during the midnight Christmas mass at White Horse base in Nasiriyah, southern Iraq, Thursday Dec. 25, 2003. (AP Photo/Laurent Rebours)


U.S soldiers attend midnight Christmas mass at a Chapel in Baghdad International Airport, Iraq, Thursday Dec. 25, 2003. (AP Photo/Muhammed Muheisen)


U.S soldiers attend midnight Christmas mass at a chapel in Baghdad International Airport, Iraq, Thursday Dec. 25, 2003. (AP Photo/Muhammed Muheisen)


U.S soldiers attend midnight Christmas mass at a Chapel in Baghdad International Airport, Iraq, Thursday Dec. 25, 2003. (AP Photo/Muhammed Muheisen)


British soldiers take part in a Christmas mass at their base in Basra International Airport, some 500 kms southeast of Baghdad(AFP/Mauricio Lima)

[SAMWolf]

'Their forebears went by other names: doughboys, Yanks, buffalo soldiers, Johnny Reb, Rough Riders. But "G.I.," Government Issue, will be forever lodged in the consciousness of our nation to apply to them all. The G.I. carried the value system of the American people. The G.I.s were the surest guarantee of America's commitment. For more than 200 years, they answered the call to fight the nation's battles. They never went forth as mercenaries on the road to conquest. They went forth as reluctant warriors, as citizen soldiers.

"They were as gentle in victory as they were vicious in battle. I've had survivors of Nazi concentration camps tell me of the joy they experienced as the G.I.s liberated them: America had arrived! Once, a wealthy Japanese businessman came into my office and told me what it was like for him, as a child in 1945, to await the arrival of the dreaded American beasts, and instead he met a smiling G.I. who gave him a Hershey bar. In thanks, the businessman was donating a large sum of money to the USO. After thanking him, I gave him, as a souvenir, a Hershey bar I had autographed. He took it and began to cry.'

General Colin Powell
U.S. Secretary of State

[radu]

to all at the Foxhole!

A very touching thread, SAM, seeing Christmas through the eyes and words of troops who have served abroad during wartime over the years. My thoughts today, as every day, are with those in Afghanistan and Iraq.

To our service men and women, past and present,

[snippy_about_it]

FALL IN to the FReeper Foxhole!



Merry Christmas Everyone


If you would like added to our ping list let us know.

[E.G.C.]

Merry Christmas to everyone at the Freeper Foxhole from Southwest Oklahoma.

[snippy_about_it]

Please look after yourself and be as careful as you can. I will be praying for you and your family. We all want you home safe.

Good morning Sam, after reading today's Christmas thread there's not a dry eye in the house...and I'm the only one home.

Thank you for the Joyce Kilmer story too. I have a thing for the Irish ;-)

All these stories bring home just what sacrifices were made by our veterans and are made by today's troops.

Merry Christmas Sam, I count you among the veterans I am so grateful for. May God watch over our troops and bring them home soon.

[Iris7]

Mighty fine, SAM. Touched my heart.

Merry Christmas and a God Blessed new year.

[Iris7]

Merry Christmas, and may God bless you.

Thanks for your support in the past. You are a sweet lady.

[aomagrat]

Today’s classic warship, USS California (BB-44)

Tennessee class battleship
Displacement. 32,300
Length. 624'6"
Beam. 97'4"
Draft. 30'3"
Speed. 21 k.
Complement. 1,083
Armament. 12 14", 14 5", 4 3", 2 21" tt.

The USS California (BB-44) was launched 20 November 1919 by Mare Island Navy Yard; sponsored by Mrs. R. T. Zane; and commissioned 10 August 1921, Captain H. J. Ziegemeier in command; and reported to the Pacific Fleet as flagship.

For 20 years from 1921 until 1941, California served first as flagship of the Pacific Fleet, then as flagship of the Battle Fleet (Battle Force), U.S. Fleet. Her annual activities included joint Army-Navy exercises, tactical and organizational development problems, and fleet concentrations for various purposes. Intensive training and superior performance won her the Battle Efficiency Pennant for 1921-22, and the Gunnery "E" for 1925-26.

In the summer of 1925 California led the Battle Fleet and a division of cruisers from the Scouting Fleet on a very successful good-will cruise to Australia and New Zealand. She took part in the Presidential reviews of 1927, 1930, and 1934. She was modernized in late 1929 and early 1930 and equipped with an improved antiaircraft battery.

In 1940 California switched her base to Pearl Harbor On 7 December 1941 she was moored at the southernmost berth of "Battleship Row" and was with other dreadnoughts of the Battle Force when the Japanese launched their aerial attack. As she was about to undergo a material inspection, watertight integrity was not at its maximum; consequently the ship suffered great damage when hit. At 0805 a bomb exploded below decks, setting off an antiaircraft ammunition magazine and killing about 50 men. A second bomb ruptured her bow plates. Despite valiant efforts to keep her afloat the in-rushing water could not be isolated and California settled into the mud with only her superstructure remaining above the surface. When the action ended, 98 of her crew were lost and 61 wounded.

On 25 March 1942 California was refloated and dry-docked at Pearl Harbor for repairs. On 7 June she departed under her own power, for Puget Sound Navy yard where a major reconstruction job was accomplished, including improved protection, stability, AA battery, and fire control system.

California departed Bremerton 31 January 1944 for shakedown at San Pedro, and sailed from San Francisco 5 May for the invasion of the Marianas. Off Saipan in June, she conducted effective shore bombardment and call fire missions. On 14 June she was hit by a shell from an enemy shore battery which killed one man and wounded nine. Following Saipan, her heavy guns helped blast the way for our assault force in the Guam and Tinian operations (18 July-9 August). On 24 August she arrived at Espirit u Santo for repairs to her port bow damaged in a collision with Tennessee (BB-43).

On 17 September 1944 California sailed to Manus to ready for the invasion of the Philippines. From 17 October to 20 November she played a key role in the Leyte operation, including the destruction of the Japanese fleet in the Battle of Surigao Strait (25 October). On 1 January 1945 she departed the Palaus for the Luzon landings. Her powerful batteries were an important factor in the success of these dangerous operations driven home into the heart of enemy-held territory under heavy air attack. On 6 January while providing shore bombardment at Lingayen Gulf she was hit by a kamikaze plane; 44 of her crew were killed and 155 were wounded. Undeterred she made temporary repairs on the spot and remained carrying out her critical mission of shore bombardment until the job was done. She departed 23 January for Puget Sound Navy Yard, arriving 15 February, for permanent repairs. California returned to action at Okinawa 15 June 1945 and remained in that embattled area until 21 July. Two days later she joined TF 95 to cover the East China Sea minesweeping operations. After a short voyage to San Pedro Bay, P.I., in August, the ship departed Okinawa 20 September to cover the landing of the 6th Army occupation force at Wakanoura Wan, Honshu. She remained supporting the occupation until 15 October, then sailed via Singapore, Colombo, and Capetown, to Philadelphia, arrivi ng 7 December. She was placed in commission in reserve there 7 August 1946: out of commission in reserve 14 February 1947; and sold 10 July 1959.

California received seven battle stars for World War II service.

[GailA]

Good CHRISTmas morning FRiends

[Soaring Feather]

Good morning everyone in The FOXHOLE!

[Soaring Feather]

[snippy_about_it]

Merry Christmas EGC.

[snippy_about_it]

Merry Christmas radu.