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[NOTE by the author: This article was written soon after the
Germans started their counter-attack in Belgium, in what is called
"The Battle of the Bulge." Troops already in Germany,
were called to reinforce drawn-out positions in this sector,
and it was here, in a Belgian cafe, that our company billeted
for one night on our way to the front line. This description
of a Belgian Christmas was written in Sprimont, Belgium, on Christmas,
1944.]
Today is Christmas - Christmas of 1944 - and though the usual
routine, the usual soldier's schedule is in effect, in this foreign
land of Belgium, a little incident has occurred this morning
which has made me take time to think-yes, realize just how good
the kids have it at home in the States in that land often called
the "land of milk and honey."
Our office is now set up in an old Belgian cafe. It resembles
a hotel in some respects as there are quite a few rooms, some
of which are occupied by the cafe patron and his family, and
the others by our troops. I occupy a little windowless room on
the fourth floor but it does offer shelter and protection from
the snow and cold.
Coming from my room this morning, at an early hour, it, was
necessary to walk through the saloon to get to the office. As
I opened the door to the cafe, leading from the stairway, I noticed
a broken pine branch jammed into the top of a "C Ration"
can from which a few broken balls were dangling to give it the
usual Christmas color. The "tree" was balanced on the
top of a beer-stained table which rocked as I went by. Under
the tree were two tiny, very tiny piles of "presents"
for the patron's two little children. I looked at these presents
closely, wondering what sort of Christmas his youngsters would
enjoy and what pleasures they would derive from the kindness
of their parents, with what little resources were at their disposal.
Both piles were the same - both piles, though small in size,
carried a Christmas message of joy that later made the children
clap their hands with merriment. And what were the presents?
For each child there was one half of a bar of "D Ration"
chocolate that some GI had given to the parents the night before,
two-little pieces of hard candy, also a donation from a friendly
GI, and a small picture book. These articles constituted the
stimulus for the smiles and the happiness of these youngsters
when they saw what St. Nicholas had brought them. And through
it all, it made me ponder. I began to wonder if the children
back in the States are thankful for the pleasures, materialistic
resources, toys, and games they receive every year on the 25th
of December.
How would a child, in the United States of America, feel on
Christmas morning if he found under the tree, decorated with
flickering lights, and the miniature electric train, a half bar
of chocolate, two small pieces of hard candy and a coloring book?
Would he cry in disgust for the injustice Santa Claus had imposed
upon him, or would he, like the Belgian child, be thankful for
the little gift and clap his hands in glee? I am inclined to
believe that he would conduct himself in the former manner as
the average American youngster is too much accustomed to the
"better things of life."
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