Tonight, December 24, 2004, the United States is involved in a war. Many young people of this country are doing what young people have done on Christmases in the past – fighting in a foreign land.

I’d like to share with you my story of a Christmas in a foreign land, during war time, sixty years ago.

The entry in my diary for December 22^nd reads: "4^th Armored Division expected to break into Bastogne any day. German defense fantastic. Supplies dropped by air. Surgical teams towed in in gliders. Many wounded in Bastogne. German dead piled up like cord wood around Bastogne. Bastogne almost completely leveled. 624^th Clearing Co. and 467^th Collecting Co. attached to us now. Outlook not very good for Christmas. Air forces out in strength as weather has cleared. Constant roar all day."

It was in the early days of the Battle of the Bulge. The German armies had unleashed a surprise, massive counter offensive in the Ardennes region of eastern Belgium a few days before Christmas. They quickly overran a rather new American Division taking about 8000 American soldiers prisoner and killing many more. Bastogne was cut off and surrounded by the German army. The 3^rd Army was in northern France preparing to invade Germany when this counter attack took place. The entire army received orders to move north into Luxembourg and Belgium. On December 19^th and 20^th our Battalion was a part of the approximately 200,000 – 3^rd Army troops who made this move. The winter weather was extremely severe. This, plus the great anxiety and stress of moving into a very dangerous war zone, did not permit a great deal of thought about the fast approaching Christmas season.

We had moved into a vacated hospital building in Arlon, Belgium, a short distance south of Bastogne, to provide medical support for the 4^th Armored Division. We were all on high alert night and day as many German SS troops had taken American soldiers’ uniforms from dead GI’s. Disguised as American soldiers they had infiltrated into the American combat zone.

On Christmas morning we were told that an army Chaplain would be celebrating Mass in the Arlon Cathedral for all 3^rd Army soldiers in the area. This announcement was a very welcome and unanticipated opportunity to attend Mass. It’s difficult to describe the feelings that we had as we entered this large, old church. It was packed wall to wall, standing room only, with fellow American soldiers in full battle gear. Other than an occasional burst of artillery fire overhead we were in an oasis of total quiet and peace. I’m sure none of that group of soldiers will ever forget the overall tone and spiritual atmosphere as we celebrated this Mass in the midst of the war. This celebration was followed with a short communal penance service for the hundreds of GI’s packed in the church. This Christmas Mass on December 25, 1944, in the cathedral in Arlon, Belgium, has become the most memorable Mass I have ever attended. As we quietly left that very unique and memorable spiritual experience each one of us was aware of what the words "Peace on Earth" really mean. And each one of us was only too aware of what it meant to return to the fear, anxiety, and hellish human and material carnage of war. The Battle of the Bulge raged for about another six weeks and was the costliest single land battle of World War II. The U.S. lost 19,000 killed and 61,000 wounded. Germany lost 120, 000 killed and unknown numbers wounded.

Today, in another foreign land, many of our young people are fighting in another war and we here are still praying for Peace on Earth. My prayer this Christmas is that world leaders will ever strive to value diplomacy and the lessons of history rather than rush to military solutions as the primary option of settling world conflicts.

Are We There Yet?
Father Tom Lindner's Christmas column

After checking my bag, I was walking to wait near my gate and I heard an announcement. All flights for this airline to a half dozen cities in the Midwest were canceled due to bad weather. It was sunny. The flight wasn’t even scheduled to leave for two hours. A faceless voice cheerfully encouraged us to use any of the courtesy phones in the terminal to make other flight arrangements and warned us not to bother attendants at the check-in stations because they would not be able to help us.