 This is the Big Picture, an official television report of the United States Army, produced for the armed forces and the American people. Ready Bill? Yeah. So long you guys, we'll be seeing you. Yes, so long. I'll see you next week. You fellas have a nice Christmas. Yeah, some Christmas. I don't know what you're so happy about, Norris. Shaw quit griping. Army can't close up shop just because it's Christmas. Somebody's got to stay on the post. Yeah, that's right. Somebody has to stay, and that's somebody's us. We get elected. And nobody got elected. Your name comes up on the roster and you're just lucky or unlucky. It's like a lottery. It's just tough luck we didn't win. Well, so what? Next time around, we'll be taking off and somebody else can keep house. Oh, sure, sure. Next time around. Oh, that's a big help. Why don't you take it easy on yourself? Because man, there's not a thing you can do about it. Oh, maybe there isn't. Maybe there is. You're not thinking about going there. And I never missed a Christmas with my family yet. And this year's kind of extra special. You see, my kid's sister's getting married and, well, she's bringing the boyfriend home to meet us. Yeah, but booking out's not the answer. You're going to just get yourself in a jug of trouble. Those parties and planning. You know, but it's almost a year since I've seen any of them. You better take it easy. You know, you can try to fight this on me. Man, it's a sense you ain't going to win. Look, I'll tell you what. I'm going to have a peax and meet a fella from my hometown. You come along and maybe we'll go see a moving picture later. That's a good idea, Norris. I'll tell you what, you go ahead and I'll see you over there. OK. I'll see you in about a half an hour. Yeah, OK. Hiya, Shaw. Oh, hello, Sarge. Looks like the old homestead's really empty and you're still bleeding hard. Oh, I guess I'll get over it. Sure you will. We all do. Now you take... Checking your socks, huh? Well, that's one way to kill time. Yeah, I suppose it is. Looks like you, Norris, and me are stuck. The only ones left in the barracks. Well, we'll have Christmas together. They'll put on a special feed and a mess hall. Of course, it won't be as much fun as being home, but then... Well, those are the breaks. Yeah. Bad breaks. Could be a lot worse. You take the real job of soldier. That can cost you a lot more than a chance to be home at Christmas. Much more. The people who start wars... Well, they're not too sentimental about that kind of thing. Yes, the soldier's job can exact a much greater price. It's interesting to note that some of our country's most critical hours have occurred just when the soldier's thoughts have turned to home and to those personal ties from which he has been separated. At times, it would appear as if the enemy actually counted on such occasions as a morale factor to be exploited for his own advantage. Our Sergeant Brooks will tell us something about the American fighting man in just such circumstances. But before we return to him, and to Private First Class Shaw, let me just say that I am Sergeant Stuart Queen, bringing you the latest in our big picture series, The Battle of the Bulge. Now, let us go back to Sergeant Brooks, who was there. I remember back in 1944. You might say I was lucky. Made it home for Christmas the first two years I was in the service. And I was shipped out. We were in a man-sized war. First I saw of it was a place called Omaha. And I don't mean Nebraska. It was a beach off Normandy. On June 6, 1944, it wasn't a nice place for swimming. After that, the days kind of get telescoped. We slugged and the enemy slugged back. We slugged harder. Then there was Sand Love, the worst. But that's where we smashed the best the Nazi could put up. After that, we drove on through France, pushing him over wherever he stood up to fight. He knew just how far that battling had taken us. It was August 25. This was Paris. And the French had been waiting for their big day for five long years. Because Paris had become a symbol. The rest of the world had been waiting too. Of course, one whole division all spruced up. We marched through Paris. You see, we had an appointment to keep. We kept it. It was still war. The enemy wasn't folding yet. He was fighting small-scale actions to hold us while he pulled back to regroup. All batches were willing to do their regrouping in our POW cages. Between scraps, we were still getting the Paris treatment. There'd always be another hassle. This took our town. Now we were moving into Belgium. Luxembourg. Germany was to be next. We were moving so fast that the rumor machine started grinding out that old line. Home for Christmas. It made no sense, but men will believe anything they want to believe. I said we were moving too fast. Too fast for supply to keep up with us. We wanted port, shareboard, gas. Everything had to reach us from that distance. We needed the great Belgian port of Antwerp. But the Nazi knew that too and held onto it. Or had just about destroyed France's railroads and rolling stock. And so from Cherbourg and even those Normandy beaches where we'd landed, trucks had to haul everything we needed. Top-ranked planning had figured on an October offensive. But the supply problem was going to delay that final knockout punch. Weeks later, Antwerp was ours. But the enemy still denied us the use of its port. It was beyond Antwerp, we got our first setback. An airborne attack that was going to outflank the enemy and take us right into central Germany was stopped cold. Neemegen ended rumors about getting home for Christmas. Those weeks our buildup had gone on. It still meant hauling from Sherbourg and the beaches, but now we had a super speed system. It was called the Red Bull Express. To get us set for an all-out offensive, it worked round the clock. One day there was an unscheduled meeting at a place called Mohns. That little slug-fest at Mohns had knocked off two Nazi armies. More important, it had opened the way to the German city of Aachen. We'd already moved into the enemy's home ground where they lay on our side of the Siegfried Line. Or weren't important enough to defend. But this was going to be a real showdown. We'd have to blast them out of Aachen. And that's what we did. Things began to pop up around town. We broke out one of our own. Aachen was a start. Just one month later, General Omar N. Bradley called signals and the big blast was on. The Rhineland fell at first. Between us and the Rhineland stretched that Siegfried Line. Its entire length still intact except where we'd crashed through it at Aachen. Many orders called for a standard die fight against the foreign invaders. That was us. The salt by air could only soften. The rest was up to us. Nothing was rougher than we'd figured. You can't stand and you don't want to die. Well, there's always a third way. Now we went after our biggest target so far. The fortress city of Metz. Maybe we forgot our manners with the latest batch of Nazis who forgot to stand or die. But Metz hadn't been easy. Nothing was going to be easy anywhere along our lines. But the Nazi Wehrmacht was tough. It was costing us good men. Green replacements were becoming seasoned old soldiers almost overnight. And there was good news from Belgium. Antwerp was working for us at last. The enemy had been knocked out of the skies and from the islands surrounding the big port. Shortages of ammo, gas, equipment weren't going to limit our movements again. The things we needed were coming in. But those weeks we'd lost were going to help hand us our heaviest jolt for now it was winter. Once upon a time armies just stopped fighting when winter hit. Winter slowed down movement. Winter meant additional hardship. But we couldn't give up the initiative. We had to go on. The Nazi had been counting on winter weather and he knew just where he could make it pay off. In the middle of our lines stretching about 85 miles was the Ardenne Forest. To its north we had two divisions. There were two more in the sun. We were using the Ardennes as a combined training and rest area. The Nazi knew that too. His tanks and forces had been massed under tightest security and concealed areas. Now he lashed out. It was an hour never again. With his dwindling reserves of equipment and toughened veterans from the Russian campaigns he aimed to split us in two and drive on to retake Antwerp. He caught us off balance and we paid for it. Once again the natives were leaving their farms with everything they could carry. The Nazi planning didn't include rations. They were that desperate. They'd live off the land till they could stock up from our warehouses at Liège and Reem. That's where he headed. Punching a bulge into our thinly held line. Outside a little town nobody'd ever heard of named Baston. We dug in. For Baston commanded the highways to those cities. We dug in and held 24 hours a day while we waited for relief. There weren't any more cooks. Company clerks. Bakers. Only fighting men. Other outfits in the line or dug in probably didn't even have time to savvy it was December 25th. You know somehow you don't think of war going on that day. I used to read how there'd be a true sun Christmas day. I've seen it in history books. Yeah. History. Real past history. Things were different in 1944. We had Christmas trees of course. The Ardennes was full of them. Only you didn't know who was behind them. Of course I have to admit our platoon had a lucky break. We had Christmas dinner. No fixings mind you. But we sure had the main course. Maybe a few managed some holiday spirit. But for most of us it was just another day on the job. A soldier's job. The job was going to get tougher. And so was the weather. Communications were disrupted. Supply lines cut. Contact between units was lost. And there were units that were lost too. There was no telling where the enemy had been or where he was going to be. We'd even infiltrated with specially trained fighters. They wore our uniform and spoke our language. So we asked trick questions. Who on the world's series? Who was Betty Grable's last film? That did it. And because they were spies, did for them too. The weather had been on the enemy's side. But time was on ours. So we held on. Then one beautiful day, never mind the weather. A whole armored division from 3rd Army broke through to relieve us. The enemy's bid for Bastone was ended. Now we could get back on the offensive. The Nazi could still hit us for losses, but the steam was gone from his counter punch. He could delay us, but that's all. The bulge was shrinking fast. The Wehrmacht's strength was melding, and so were the snow and ice that had helped. Thaws could slow us down, but the break in weather brought another kind of break. Clearing skies brought us air support. Units that couldn't be reached over truck routes, units cut off by enemy action could now get rations. Medical supply, equipment of all kinds by airdrop. More important, air action could help us smash resistance, and help pitch the Nazi back onto his own soil. Besides the ones who hot-footed it back to the Fatherland to fight another day, there were the lucky ones who wouldn't. Then again, there were the unlucky ones who couldn't. What about us? Well, we'd win our battle. The battle of the bulge. And now we'd just get on with a job of soldiering. There'd be towns to take, we'd took. Then there'd be a river called the Rhine. We crossed it. That was the beginning of the end. Well, there was more fighting, of course. Hard fighting. But now there wasn't any question about how it'd end. That was the holiday season for soldiers, 1944. Next Christmas we'd be spending at home. Those of us who made it. Yeah, I... I was just thinking about the others, the breaks again. Then nobody ever figured soldiering was an easy job. Let's see. You've been in the service for a little over a year, right? Closer to a year and a half. Nice record, too. It's a good thing to have, Shaw. Take a bad record. You can follow a man up whether he stays in or leaves. Record stick. Yeah, I suppose that's so. Well, Sergeant, I suppose I'd better shove. I'm a little bit late. To a large, I'd meet him over at the PX. I'll show the rest of those things when I get back. On your way, soldier. See you later. Scenics have often said that we Americans win our victories in spite of our ties to comfort. Our longing call it need for home and loved ones. As a matter of fact, it's not in spite of, but because of those ties that we stick it out and come through. A way back in our struggle for independence, during the terrible winter of Valley Forge, Thomas Paine wrote the memorable lines. These are the times that tri-men souls, the summer soldier and the sunshine patriot, shrink from the service of their country. At Valley Forge and down through the years to the Battle of the Bulge and on later to Korea, the American soldier has proved himself to be a winter soldier. For that steadfastness and devotion to duty, an entire nation must be forever grateful. Now this is Sergeant Stuart Queen, your host for The Big Picture. The Big Picture is an official television report for the armed forces and the American people, produced by the Army Pictorial Center, presented by the United States Army in cooperation with this station. Thank you.