killed in action and the letter was sent on to The Big Picture, the Twelfth Infantry regimental newspaper, which, in the October lull, had a chance to turn out a few issues on location. The Twelfth Infantry historian writes of this letter, “Its simplicity so clearly plumbs the depths of heartfelt thanks that it will always remain among the treasures of the Twelfth Infantry as a reminder that its sacrifices were not made in vain.”
Rue De La Conversarie
Saint Hubert
Ardenne, Belgique
21 st October 1944
To Family Bill,
I know just a few words of english and it is from a very little Belgium town, they will start for to express our gratefulto you Americans, for the liberation of our Country by your Sons (the 8 th September).
My thanks to you in particular because we have been happy that Bill to be our liberator. He is first American soldier we have seen, we will always remember this nice and lofty fighter, may God keep him throughout the future years and words can never say how in our gratitude towards you and yours.
When you write to Bill said to him I always think very much to him and if he can come in Saint Hubert, I shall be very happy to see him again.
Said to him also, I am always waiting him and he writes with me when that is possible and you also.
Excuse my english. I can explain me very well but I hope you understand me.
Sincerely Yours
I was thrilled to find this letter in the regimental archives. What I find so interesting is the way in which a unique human voice—my father’s story for example—gives voice to a feeling, a condition of suffering shared by many. 16 And then reading how others, each in his unique way, gave voice to their shared experience as each wondered whether anyone back home knew, or cared to know, the hell they were going through and the losses they were suffering. I read somewhere that a biographer of my father’s, interested in his story “For Esmé—with Love and Squalor,” went on a pilgrimage, of sorts, all over that part of England posting notices in local papers in search of the “real” Esmé, just as a reporter had tried, earlier, to find the “real” Sybil from the story “A Perfect Day for Bananafish.” I’m not entirely certain why, but that sortof thing leaves me cold. Perhaps it’s because the idiosyncratic, the isolated, the almost mythological aspects of my father writing alone in his tower have held sway for so long.
W INTER BROUGHT THE CONDITIONS of the Twelfth from unbearable to unspeakable. Their numbers had been increased by 2,228 replacements, bringing its original 3,080 to 3,362. A terrible month of fighting in Hürtgen Forest saw 1,493 battle casualties, and a loss of an additional 1,024 men from non-battle causes, mainly from freezing to death in foxholes, half full of icy water, dug in the alternately frozen and wet ground, snow and mud, with no winter boots nor warm coats, nor an adequate supply of dry blankets for a bedroll in the foxholes.
The normally terse reports from headquarters issued a commendation on December 17, 1944, to the commanding officer of the Twelfth Infantry. It reads in part:
Unseasonal precipitation and damp, penetrating cold were a constant detriment to the health and well being of the personnel, rendering their day by day existence well nigh unbearable. The terrain was characterized by densely forested hills, swollen streams and deep, adhesive mud, which retarded all movement of troops and vehicles.
The enemy had prepared. . . . extensive mine fields and well placed booby traps, in particular, exacted a heavy toll of casualties during the advance. . . . Inasmuch as natural conditions precluded the employment of adequate aerial and motorized support, the burden of neutralizing frantically defended enemy fortifications fell heavily upon the shoulders of the foot soldier. It is with extreme approbation that I commend your officers and men. . . . The deeds of the 12 th Infantry Regiment shall not be forgotten
Rue De La Conversarie
Saint Hubert
Ardenne, Belgique
21 st October 1944
To Family Bill,
I know just a few words of english and it is from a very little Belgium town, they will start for to express our gratefulto you Americans, for the liberation of our Country by your Sons (the 8 th September).
My thanks to you in particular because we have been happy that Bill to be our liberator. He is first American soldier we have seen, we will always remember this nice and lofty fighter, may God keep him throughout the future years and words can never say how in our gratitude towards you and yours.
When you write to Bill said to him I always think very much to him and if he can come in Saint Hubert, I shall be very happy to see him again.
Said to him also, I am always waiting him and he writes with me when that is possible and you also.
Excuse my english. I can explain me very well but I hope you understand me.
Sincerely Yours
I was thrilled to find this letter in the regimental archives. What I find so interesting is the way in which a unique human voice—my father’s story for example—gives voice to a feeling, a condition of suffering shared by many. 16 And then reading how others, each in his unique way, gave voice to their shared experience as each wondered whether anyone back home knew, or cared to know, the hell they were going through and the losses they were suffering. I read somewhere that a biographer of my father’s, interested in his story “For Esmé—with Love and Squalor,” went on a pilgrimage, of sorts, all over that part of England posting notices in local papers in search of the “real” Esmé, just as a reporter had tried, earlier, to find the “real” Sybil from the story “A Perfect Day for Bananafish.” I’m not entirely certain why, but that sortof thing leaves me cold. Perhaps it’s because the idiosyncratic, the isolated, the almost mythological aspects of my father writing alone in his tower have held sway for so long.
W INTER BROUGHT THE CONDITIONS of the Twelfth from unbearable to unspeakable. Their numbers had been increased by 2,228 replacements, bringing its original 3,080 to 3,362. A terrible month of fighting in Hürtgen Forest saw 1,493 battle casualties, and a loss of an additional 1,024 men from non-battle causes, mainly from freezing to death in foxholes, half full of icy water, dug in the alternately frozen and wet ground, snow and mud, with no winter boots nor warm coats, nor an adequate supply of dry blankets for a bedroll in the foxholes.
The normally terse reports from headquarters issued a commendation on December 17, 1944, to the commanding officer of the Twelfth Infantry. It reads in part:
Unseasonal precipitation and damp, penetrating cold were a constant detriment to the health and well being of the personnel, rendering their day by day existence well nigh unbearable. The terrain was characterized by densely forested hills, swollen streams and deep, adhesive mud, which retarded all movement of troops and vehicles.
The enemy had prepared. . . . extensive mine fields and well placed booby traps, in particular, exacted a heavy toll of casualties during the advance. . . . Inasmuch as natural conditions precluded the employment of adequate aerial and motorized support, the burden of neutralizing frantically defended enemy fortifications fell heavily upon the shoulders of the foot soldier. It is with extreme approbation that I commend your officers and men. . . . The deeds of the 12 th Infantry Regiment shall not be forgotten
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