[Congressional Record Volume 146, Number 72 (Monday, June 12, 2000)]
[Extensions of Remarks]
[Pages E977-E979]
From the Congressional Record Online through the Government Publishing Office [www.gpo.gov]




                          BATTLE OF THE BULGE

                                 ______
                                 

                           HON. JOHN L. MICA

                               of florida

                    in the house of representatives

                         Monday, June 12, 2000

  Mr. MICA. Mr. Speaker, not long ago I was privileged to take part in 
a ceremony in Orlando, Florida to commemorate the Battle of the Bulge 
and those who fought in that historic battle. The ceremony was 
conducted to dedicate an impressive new memorial erected to honor the 
600,000 Americans who fought in the Battle of the Bulge during World 
War II.
  The keynote speaker at the dedication was Brigadier General William 
E. Carlson (USA/Ret.), a distinguished and exceptional gentleman who 
resides in Winter Park, Florida. At the age of 12, General Carlson was 
a Congressional Page serving in the House of Representatives on that 
historic day when President Roosevelt asked a joint session of Congress 
for a declaration of war.
  To commemorate the Battle of the Bulge Monument, General Carlson gave 
a moving and graphic description of the battle and the historic events 
which preceded it. His speech should be read by others so that this 
story will never be forgotten. In Washington we are working to build a 
long overdue monument to World War II and honor the heroes who fought 
in it. In Orlando, we are proud to honor our World War II soldiers with 
our monument to the Battle of the Bulge. Mr. Speaker, I am pleased to 
submit General Carlson's Battle of the Bulge speech for inclusion in 
the Record:


       It was the 16th of September, 1944. Adolf Hitler had 
     summoned a group of his senior officers to his study in the 
     huge, underground bunker in the Wolf's Lair, Hitler's field 
     headquarters, located deep in a pine forest in East Prussia.
       Those summoned were his closest and most trusted military 
     advisors. Among them was only one who wore the red stripes of 
     the German General Staff. He was the head of the Operations 
     Staff of the High Command of the Wehrmacht, General Alfred 
     Jodl.
       The officers were waiting when Hitler entered. Taking a 
     seat, Hitler instructed Jodl to sum up the situation on the 
     Western Front.
       During the briefing, Jodl noted that there was one area of 
     particular concern where the Americans were attacking and 
     where the Germans had almost no troops: That area was the 
     region of Belgium and Luxembourg called the Ardennes.

[[Page E978]]

       At the word ``Ardennes '', Hitler suddenly ordered Jodl to 
     stop the briefing. There was a long pause. Then with firmness 
     in his voice Hitler said, ``I shall go on the offensive 
     here!'' and he slapped his hand down on the map--``Here, out 
     of the Ardennes! The objective is Antwerp!''
       With those words Hitler set in motion preparations for a 
     battle that was to assume epic proportions: the greatest 
     German attack in the West since the campaign of 1940.
       Hitler named this Operations Plan Wacht Am Rhein. He 
     personally selected this name to imply a defensive Operation, 
     rather than an offensive operation, in order to deceive the 
     Allies.
       During the planning, the German General Staff made numerous 
     changes to Hitler's original concept for the operation. When 
     the battle began, the German code name for the operation was 
     Autumn Mist.
       A split second after five-thirty a.m. on Saturday, December 
     the 16th an American soldier manning an observation post high 
     on top of a water tower in the village of Hosingen telephoned 
     his Company Commander. He reported that in the distance on 
     the German side he could see a strange phenomenon: countless 
     flickering pinpoints of light. Within a few seconds both he 
     and his Company Commander had an explanation. They were the 
     muzzle flashes of over 2,000 German artillery pieces.
       The early morning stillness of the fog-shrouded forest was 
     suddenly shattered with the thunderclap of a massive 
     artillery barrage landing on the Americans.
       Operation Autumn Mist was underway. The onslaught had 
     begun.
       The Americans called it the Battle of the Bulge.
       The Battle of the Bulge lasted from the 16th of December 
     1944 until the 25th of January 1945. It was the greatest 
     battle ever fought by the United States Army.
       More than a million men participated in this battle 
     including 600,000 American soldiers, 500,000 Germans, and 
     55,000 British. The American military force consisted of a 
     total of three Armies with 33 Divisions. While the German 
     military force consisted of two Panzer Armies with 29 
     Divisions. More than 120,000 Germans were killed, wounded or 
     captured during the battle. Each side lost over 800 tanks.
       Wars are planned by old men in council rooms far from the 
     battlefield. But at the end of the most grandiose plans of 
     the highest-ranking Generals is the soldier walking the point 
     or manning the outposts. The monument we dedicate today is a 
     monument to those soldiers.
       The real story of the Battle of the Bulge is the story of 
     those soldiers and the intense combat action of the small 
     units--the squads, the platoons and the companies--and the 
     soldiers who filled their ranks.
       These are the men that made up the fighting strength of the 
     divisions, engaged the Germans in combat and suffered the 
     casualties.
       Battalion Commanders and Company Commanders--young, lean, 
     tough, battle-wise and toil worn. Fuzzy-cheeked lieutenants, 
     grizzly NCO's, and seasoned troopers; battle-hardened and 
     disciplined in automatic habits of combat never learned in 
     school. And green replacements, fresh off the ships from 
     home, marched off into battle for the first time and in their 
     hearts was fear of the unknown.
       Around their necks hung their dog tags and rosaries. On 
     their heads was the steel pot and in their pocket was a 
     picture of the girl back home.
       Surprised, stunned and not understanding what was happening 
     to him, the American soldier nevertheless held fast--he was 
     as tenacious as the old junkyard dog until he was overwhelmed 
     by the German onslaught, or until his commanders ordered him 
     to withdraw.
       The Battle was a very personal fight for them. Concerned 
     with the fearful and consuming task of fighting and staying 
     alive, those men did not think of the battle in terms of the 
     big Picture represented on the situation maps at higher 
     headquarters. They knew only what they could see and hear in 
     the chaos of the battle around them.
       They knew and understood the earth for which they fought, 
     the advantage of holding the high ground and the protection 
     of the trench or foxhole.
       They could distinguish the sounds of the German weffers and 
     the screaming sound of incoming German 88s. And they knew the 
     fear of German artillery rounds falling around them without 
     pattern in the snow.
       They knew the satisfying sound of friendly artillery shells 
     passing overhead. They were reassured by the sudden stabs of 
     flame in the night as friendly artillery belched bullets into 
     the air, spreading a glow of flickering light above the 
     blackened trees of the snow-covered forest.
       They knew the overwhelming loneliness of the battlefield, 
     the feeling of despair, confusion and the uncertainty that 
     prevails in units in retreat.
       They knew first hand the violent pounding of the heart, the 
     cold sweat, the trembling of the body and the stark terror 
     that mortal combat brings. Even Mother Nature was their enemy 
     with bitterly cold weather and over-cast skies. The days were 
     short--daylight at 8 and darkness by 4. The nights were long 
     and bitterly cold. Snow, knee-deep, covered the battleground. 
     Overcast skies and heavy fog shrouded the snow-covered limbs 
     of the fir trees in the dark forest.
       GIs, their bodies numb, were blue-lipped and chilled to the 
     bone.
       At night, the German ground assault was assisted by 
     artificial moonlight created by giant German searchlights 
     bouncing their light off the low-hanging clouds casting an 
     eerie, ghostly light in the fog, over the snow-covered field 
     of battle.
       Other nights were ablaze with more flame and noise than one 
     thought possible for man to create.
       For a brief moment in history, those men held our nation's 
     destiny in their hands. In the end they did not fail us. They 
     prevailed and the fires of hell were extinguished.
       They blew the trumpets that tumbled the walls. Theirs was 
     the face of victory. Super heroes--super patriots. Their 
     legacy--victory in the greatest battle ever fought by the 
     United States Army.
       But the cost of victory was high. Young Americans answered 
     the angel's trumpet call and were sacrificed on the altar of 
     the god of war--brave heroes whose valor in many cases died 
     unrecognized with them on the battlefield. Young warriors 
     whose names the grim reaper carved on marble tombstones 
     across our land.
       It was a time of great sacrifice and in most cases the dead 
     were hardly more than boys.
       19,000 new Gold Stars were hung in the windows back home: 
     Mothers who lost their songs; Wives who lost their husbands; 
     And Children who lost their fathers.
       Over 23,000 American soldiers were captured during the heat 
     of battle. Prisoners of war who were forced to serve behind 
     barbed wire, in silence and with courage, each in his own 
     way, until the war ended.
       Purple Hearts were awarded by the thousands. The snow 
     turned red with American blood. The wounds of 81,000 young 
     Americans in that battle left the `red badge of courage' on 
     the battlefield of the Ardennes.
       We are reminded of what their journey through life has left 
     behind for us: a great nation, a great state and a City 
     Beautiful with freedom and prosperity unknown in the annals 
     of history.
       Today, in the quiet of an autumn breeze blowing across Lake 
     Eola, we are gathered here to dedicate a monument and pay 
     tribute to the men this monument represents.
       As you look at the monument placed in this beautiful park, 
     also look around you. Look at the old warriors gathered 
     here--they were the vibrant youth of that time--men who were 
     there on that battlefield 55 years ago today. Men like:
       PFC Jim Hendrix who was awarded the Congressional Medal of 
     Honor for heroic action during the battle.
       Young, Fuzzy-cheeked lieutenants such as John Newell, a 
     tank commander, and Bill Cain, platoon leader. They were in 
     the armored column of old ``blood and guts'' Patton as they 
     raced 150 miles under the severest of winter conditions in 
     their valiant effort to relieve Bastogne.
       Bob Stevenson, ``one of those damned engineers'', an 
     accolade from the German SS Colonel Peiper, about our 
     engineers for blowing bridges and building obstacles at every 
     turn and bend in the road, obstacles that slowed the advance 
     of his SS Panzer column.
       Bob has with him today his WWII helmet that he wore during 
     that battle, a helmet with a jagged shrapnel hole in the back 
     of it, a helmet that probably saved him for the scythe of the 
     grim reaper.
       And Jim Mckearney, a Mortar Platoon Sgt. in the 101st 
     Airborne Division who just days before had received a 
     battlefield commission while fighting in Holland. As a new 
     lieutenant leading a platoon in the defense of Bastogne, he 
     and his platoon stood as firm as the solid granite pedestal 
     of the monument we dedicate today. To this day he bears the 
     scars of the wounds he received in that battle.
       Young American men, hardly more than boys, men such as 
     Harry Meisel and Earl K. Wood, our Orange County Tax 
     Collector, men who wear an Ardennes Battle Star on their 
     European Campaign ribbon for their participation in the 
     battle.
       And Angels of Mercy, such as Lieutenant Evelyn Gilberg, an 
     Army Nurse who went to sleep at night sobbing, thinking about 
     the mangled bodies of the young American Soldiers in the 
     field hospital that she had cared for that day.
       Men like the lone soldier in Chet Morgan's outfit, digging 
     a foxhole atop a small knoll beside a road. A vehicle loaded 
     with fleeing American soldiers came speeding down the road 
     heading for the rear. The vehicle stopped and the soldiers 
     hollered to him, ``the Germans are coming! Come on we have 
     room for you!'' He looked up and in words his mother never 
     taught him, replied: ``You can stop now because the Germans 
     aren't going past this position while I'm alive! This is the 
     82nd Airborne Division area.''
       These soldiers, and the thousands of others like them, are 
     the soldiers who stood their ground in the days when the 
     heavens were falling and the battlefield was in flames with 
     all the fire and noise humanly possible for over a million 
     warriors to create. These are the men who in the hours when 
     the earth's foundation shook like an earthquake, stood their 
     ground.
       These are the men who followed duty's call and lived the 
     code of the soldier. They sacrificed and paid the price for 
     freedom. They stayed--and the earth became theirs again. They 
     defended and what was abandoned--they recaptured. They saved 
     the sum of all things we hold dear--and all this for love of 
     their country--and the meager pay of a soldier.
       Ask yourselves now--with head bowed--From where, Oh God, 
     came such men as these?

[[Page E979]]

       Our Country was truly blessed.
       Today we gather here to dedicate a monument. A monument 
     that stands as a legacy to the Greatest Battle Ever fought By 
     The United States Army and to those veterans who fought and 
     won that battle with their blood and their courage.
       But let also stand as a reminder to future generations of 
     the high cost of freedom.
       God bless the United States of America.

       

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