We Were There: Emmeline's Story

Cold

Over time, we grew accustomed to the way things operated deep within the woods of Bastogne. Daily patrols were sent out but just like the Germans, our patrols would run into the enemy lines. It became such a frequent thing, we complained to our commanding officers about the huge gaps in our lines. We were getting lost trying to find our men on our flanks and it never failed that we would see a small German patrol instead of our line.

Colonel Sink brought General McAuliffe to ask Winters and the other officers for an update. After explaining the situation to him, McAuliffe left us with the order to hold the lines and fill the gaps. The surprising thing to all of us was how McAuliffe listened to what we were struggling with. He provided Dog Company to fill in the gaps on the right of the 2nd Battalion. McAuliffe even brought booze for the wounded to help ease their pain and warm them. He did the best he could given the circumstances - and that simple gesture of effort went a long way with all of us.

Despite the things he could do for us, there remained a shortage of ammo and winter clothing, not to mention the quickly diminishing medical supplies, but the wounded men were happy to see the booze since morphine became precious and few.

Every morning seemed to carry this heavy fog-like mist that clung to the ground like a blanket, giving us low visibility to the world around us. It never failed during those early foggy morning hours to see at least one German who got turned around and ended up surrendering to us. We grew more anxious knowing the enemy could stumble into our line at a moment's notice - lost or otherwise.

I sat alone in my foxhole, struggling to stay warm. Writing to Darla was something I did to pass the time but after a couple of minutes, my exposed hands shook so much I could barely write legibly. I sighed, tossing my notebook back into my pack, which remained over my shoulders nowadays. Once the notebook was back where it belonged, I crossed my arms, placing my hands under my armpits in search of warmth. One of the nice things about sitting in a foxhole was the protection from the frigid air that blew around overhead.

I heard the sounds of freshly fallen snow crunching under someone's boots nearby, alerting me to their approach. Within moments of hearing them draw closer, boots landed next to me inside the foxhole. Glancing up, I watched Doc Roe sit beside me. His pale skin held traces of red around his nose and cheeks from the cold, his lips were lightly frosted by snow and ice.

"Hey, Doc. What's going on?" I shivered.

He extended a rolled-up bandage toward me. Given the look of it, I knew it wasn't ours but the enemy's we must have taken off of a recent prisoner. "I know you're short on bandages," he said, "so I came to give this to you."

I grabbed it with shaky hands. "Aren't you short too?"

"I've got some spare ones from Spina," he explained. I nodded as I tossed it into my pack, returning to my previous position for warmth. 

Roe stared off into the distance for a moment, lost in thought, prompting me to ask, "What's on your mind?"

"I am not sure if I should tell you this or not but I know you've been keeping a record of those we've lost...and well," he paused for a moment before finally sighing, "I found a bunch of dead troopers this morning when I was trying to find my way to 3rd. I thought maybe you'd like to...you know..." He stopped talking halfway through, still unsure if telling me was the right course of action.