Letters coming into my possession: "December 31, 1944; 2115 hours; Bastogne, Belgium

"My Dearest,

New Years Eve; but also another New Years Eve at this particular spot - Eve of a large tank and infantry battle in the morning. The preliminaries of which started this afternoon. I can hear the tank rumbling into their assembly areas, half track radio generators; Kraut observers occasionally overhead as yet no bombs but surely they won't miss tonight unless our night fighters intervene. Just left this basement for a few minutes to take care of some injured, lots of small arms fire; a flash of flame against the sky and one less tank. This business of sweating out a bombing is about the roughest thing yet as you're just plain helpless. There is nothing you can do but pray and sweat it out. the planes are clearly audible and you can tell when the bombs are released as the motors are throttled down. Sometimes you get the shivers and between the time of release and the crunch is eternity. Received a nice package from the folks today, so we are now munching fruitcake and drinking a mixture of wine and cognac, trying to give our poor worn bodies an alcoholic rub down from the inside out. Unfortunately, the necessity of remaining alert precludes the pleasure of getting drunk. I am sorry, but I completely forgot about any sort of a Christmas card list, with otherwise occupied thoughts not of goodwill, but am very pleased at your list and thoughtfulness. It gives me a lot of satisfaction to have such an on the ball wife. Haven't received mine as yet however. The little nun doll was picked up in the ruins of a Dutch town, Heteren. It seemed so without a home that I felt sure [my mother as a little girl] would make it a welcome Mother. Saw a few live nuns in much the same fix from shelling. Didn't know exactly why, but it sort of struck me as an appropriate and, perhaps a pleasing gift for my young daughter and from the photos, a soon to be very ravishing young daughter. We are as yet unable to mail packages but circumstances permitting I'll pack some green silk for you tomorrow. Make us some pajamas out of it. Chute was one used in dropping supplies to this beleaguered garrison. Beleagured hell, we sat and shot ducks. Will try to send two or three colors. Don't you think paired pajamas would be nice? Also a bottle of Paris perfume which I will tell a story about later.

All my love, sweetheart, I think of you always."

He lived through a lot.

I received a framed copy of a letter he wrote to my mother for Christmas -- included in the frame: a shell casing from his 21-gun solute funeral ... and one of the purple hearts he was awarded:

"10 December 1944 - France

I was so happy to get your letter with your picture of Jerry and Thumper. You draw and write very well. Do you like to print? I do.

I am very sorry I cannot be with you Xmas, but I will be thinking about you, and hoping you will be very happy with your present. Be sure to write and thank Santa for your gifts. He will remember how nice and polite you were next Christmas, 1945. Everybody likes and remembers young ladies who are nice and polite.

The reason I can't come home right now is that I am in France teaching bad people to be good; if they don't learn to be good, they will never be happy as only good people are happy, and Daddy wants everybody to be good and happy. I will be home as soon as they learn their lessons, they have so many good teachers that it should not take very much longer.

I love you too, sugar.

Daddy."

And if you paid any attention in history -- and to the date and location of the letter ...

Yep. Screaming Eagles.

October 25, 1944 -- Holland

My Dearest,

This is the first letter I have ever written in a shit trench. It's quite comfortable, have electric light (flashlight), running water (drips off ceiling), hot air heating system (lantern), a bar (bottle of Gin). It's about twelve ft. long and four ft. wide, & four ft. deep. I have my bed roll on some straw; also flicked off my first flea just now, a cute little red one.

Had a couple of pairs of wooden shoes made for (my uncle and mother) for Xmas. Will send them as soon as they're wrapped.

Had another bath today in a pail, just stood in it and used a washcloth. After I got through I put the dirty clothes in the warm water to soak until tomorrow -- so, tomorrow will be a wash day. Tomorrow, a strange word that one. Also, should get mail tomorrow as I haven't had any for five days.

This little hole is really quite cozy, just like childhood days when one tried to dig caves. If I was choosing the gal I'd most like to share my fox hole with, it would be you -- but I wonder how you would like it; would you like to sleep in one; at least you don't have to keep both ears cocked for the incoming whistles. We call the ones going out "one with postage on it," the others are "that one didn't have a stamp on it." Strange how the different types of missiles have their own characteristic sounds, and specific things to do and definite time to do it; some anyway. You get to recognize them as clearly as a picture of a cow and a horse.

Had two fresh eggs for breakfast this morning -- up and soft -- cooked 'em myself and they were good -- unfortunately [unreadable] burnt the coffee but it was good anyway. So far he's more of a help than [unreadable] -- have you heard from that [unreadable]?

All my love, honey; am afraid you're going to be too sweet and lovely to look at after all this. You'll have to wear a mud mask so I can get used to you by degrees.

Yours,"

I only have one more, and I can't decipher much of it due to my grandfather's handwriting. I will be getting many more of his letters throughout the weeks as my uncle's secretaries transcribe them for the family.

But it isn't a sad story at all, Momo. Simply his voice from the trenches of WWII. He was in the thick of it.

"27 Oct '44 Holland

My Dearest,

Wrapped a pair of wooden shoes for [my mom] for Xmas -- if they get there in time -- paint something on them if you want to. [My uncle's] aren't finished yet.

Also have more yellow silk to send, the [unreadable] makes a nice border for cuffs, etc.

Can't figure out whether we're inside Germany, as they're around us. Anyway, hope we can get a rest before much longer.

Got a bottle of American Whiskey from the army today for medical purposes, supposed to get eight, but only got one which is what I mean when I say the boys in the rear take their pick. If the men in the line couldn't take care of themselves, they'd be in a sad shape.

There's a saying been running around [unreadable] troops for weeks that Eleanor Roosevelt said parachute troops should stay in army for a year after the war, and be re-educated to live a civilized life. Sounds almost like a political mud sling.

German flare overhead now, probably looking for something no doubt.

Well, keep the home fires burning sweetheart.

Yours,

P.S. Enclosed is insignia of Wehrmaacht (?) worn by ground troops - this material suggests officer's uniform.

Oh, yes. Passed away, from old age, about 6-months ago.

My grandfather was not open at all about his experience in the war. These letters are the only words we've ever had from him with respect to that time, and we didn't even know these letters EXISTED until after his death, as my mom and her siblings were settling the estate.