GRANT US GRACE FEARLESSLY
TO CONTEND AGAINST EVIL AND
TO MAKE NO PEACE WITH OPPRESSION
Inscription on the wall of the chapel at the American Cemetery in Luxembourg
I never envied Rick his time on the road. I was happy to lead a more sedate life. Still, when that first offer to visit Europe was extended, I didn't hesitate to go.
We spent the first day and a half of our vacation, touring Brussels, a beautiful Medieval city and the capitol of Belgium. On the third day, Rick suggested we leave Brussels, and drive south through the Ardennes Mountains, and then east into Germany. I was thrilled at the idea of visiting yet another country, and readily agreed.
For the most part, the Belgian countryside is rural and rolling. Plain, white plaster farmhouses dot grassy hillsides, with an occasional spattering of livestock here and there. I thought the view from the car window, rather unremarkable, until the apple green pastureland gave way to a darker forested landscape. A small sign along the roadway indicated that we had entered the Ardennes, a region known for its lush forests and sparse population.
The slight change in scenery was welcome for the first few miles. About the time my mind started to wander again, a large whitewashed billboard appeared on the horizon. It seemed so incongruous in the sea of green, that I immediately took notice. Within minutes we were on top of it.
I read the message before I even had time to realize that it was in English, instead of French or Flemish. In large red and blue letters, the people of the Ardennes proclaimed their most sincere gratitude to the Americans who liberated them from the Germans during the Second World War.
I was so shocked at what I read, I'd have almost believed I'd imagined it. I spluttered something or other about the meaning of the billboard, and Rick pointed out that we were just outside of Bastogne, the scene of the last great German offensive of the Second World War, better known to Americans as the Battle of the Bulge.
It was here, through the frigidly brutal Christmas of 1944, and into the early weeks of 1945, that the Americans stopped the Germans, and prevented them from pushing any further into Belgium, an action that effectively hastened the end of the war in Europe.
I was blown-away by the idea that the people of the Ardennes, the Walloons as they're known in Belgium, would feel such gratitude to the soldiers of a foreign army, that they'd erect, and then maintain for more than fifty years, a billboard-sized note of thanks to the American people. I wondered how many Americans had ever actually driven by the sign, and supposed that it probably didn't matter to the local folks. The billboard satisfied their need to express what was in their hearts and minds.
Nine months later, I stood within the colonnaded memorial at the American Military Cemetery in Henri-Chappelle, Belgium, not far from where the billboard stands, with my three daughters, and said a silent prayer for the 7,992 brave American souls buried there. We walked through the open-air memorial and read the names inscribed on the towering tablets, of 450 men whose remains were never found, before heading down the grassy slope to walk among the graves of the fallen.
Shortly after our visit to Henri-Chappelle, the girls and I traveled a bit further south into the Ardennes region of Luxembourg, and paid our respects at the American Cemetery in Luxembourg. Within its boundaries rest the bodies of another 5,076 Americans that succumbed to German aggression. Sadly, in twenty-two instances, two brothers rest side-by-side, in adjacent graves. My heart still aches when I think of any family sacrificing so much.
For the most part, the Belgian countryside is rural and rolling. Plain, white plaster farmhouses dot grassy hillsides, with an occasional spattering of livestock here and there. I thought the view from the car window, rather unremarkable, until the apple green pastureland gave way to a darker forested landscape. A small sign along the roadway indicated that we had entered the Ardennes, a region known for its lush forests and sparse population.
The slight change in scenery was welcome for the first few miles. About the time my mind started to wander again, a large whitewashed billboard appeared on the horizon. It seemed so incongruous in the sea of green, that I immediately took notice. Within minutes we were on top of it.
I read the message before I even had time to realize that it was in English, instead of French or Flemish. In large red and blue letters, the people of the Ardennes proclaimed their most sincere gratitude to the Americans who liberated them from the Germans during the Second World War.
I was so shocked at what I read, I'd have almost believed I'd imagined it. I spluttered something or other about the meaning of the billboard, and Rick pointed out that we were just outside of Bastogne, the scene of the last great German offensive of the Second World War, better known to Americans as the Battle of the Bulge.
It was here, through the frigidly brutal Christmas of 1944, and into the early weeks of 1945, that the Americans stopped the Germans, and prevented them from pushing any further into Belgium, an action that effectively hastened the end of the war in Europe.
I was blown-away by the idea that the people of the Ardennes, the Walloons as they're known in Belgium, would feel such gratitude to the soldiers of a foreign army, that they'd erect, and then maintain for more than fifty years, a billboard-sized note of thanks to the American people. I wondered how many Americans had ever actually driven by the sign, and supposed that it probably didn't matter to the local folks. The billboard satisfied their need to express what was in their hearts and minds.
Nine months later, I stood within the colonnaded memorial at the American Military Cemetery in Henri-Chappelle, Belgium, not far from where the billboard stands, with my three daughters, and said a silent prayer for the 7,992 brave American souls buried there. We walked through the open-air memorial and read the names inscribed on the towering tablets, of 450 men whose remains were never found, before heading down the grassy slope to walk among the graves of the fallen.
Shortly after our visit to Henri-Chappelle, the girls and I traveled a bit further south into the Ardennes region of Luxembourg, and paid our respects at the American Cemetery in Luxembourg. Within its boundaries rest the bodies of another 5,076 Americans that succumbed to German aggression. Sadly, in twenty-two instances, two brothers rest side-by-side, in adjacent graves. My heart still aches when I think of any family sacrificing so much.
I had visited Arlington National Cemetery outside of Washington D.C., prior to our move to Europe, and recognized the solemnity of the simple white crosses and Star of David markers, common to all American military cemeteries, but I felt a more profound sense of grief at the overseas cemeteries, with the knowledge that beneath each religious symbol rested an American that would never go home again. As an American living on foreign soil, that was a grim prospect.
The soldiers and airmen buried in the foreign cemeteries nearby the battlefields upon which they fell, represent only about one third of the total number of those that died there. The rest, were repatriated at the request of their next of kin, after the war. I have no idea why a family would choose not to bring home the body of a loved one that had died in service to his/her country.
Upon his death, General George Patton's wife, chose to leave her husband in Luxembourg alongside the bodies of his men. I understand the significance of that decision.
In the short time that we lived in Europe, I made several trips to the American cemeteries. I always included a stop to one or both, when touring with visitors from the States. I felt that it was the least I could do, to honor the sacrifice and memory of those that had fallen and were left behind.
On one such occasion, as I entered the memorial grounds in Luxembourg, I walked past a group of elderly Germans. Several wept as they left the gravesite to return to their tour bus. I could only speculate about the reason for their visit, but it made me feel better about the human condition to see such an open display of remorse and emotion from people we once considered the enemy.
IN PROUD AND GRATEFUL MEMORY OF
THOSE MEN OF THE ARMED SERVICES OF
THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA
WHO IN THIS REGION AND IN THE SKIES ABOVE IT
ENDURED ALL AND GAVE ALL
THAT JUSTICE AMONG NATIONS MIGHT PREVAIL AND
THAT MANKIND MIGHT ENJOY FREEDOM AND INHERIT PEACE
From the mosaic on the ceiling of the chapel at the American Cemetery in Luxembourg
history lessons, lessons to our kids on value and respect and gratitude... so much to read and learn at WonT. thank you!
ReplyDeleteAmazing sacrifices and for strangers that they didn't even know. God bless them and the people who keep their memories alive today.
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