December 24, 2004 - It was sixty years ago tonight. I remember snow and my granddad’s chow-chow Ming meeting us as we climbed the steps to the front door. There were five of us. It was Christmas Eve, Dad’s birthday. He was 32. As we had every year we were going to celebrate his birthday and Christmas at his parents. I was six, climbing the snow covered steps holding my sister’s hand so she would not slip. She was three. Mom was carrying Bill. He was just six months old. Uncle Joe and Aunt Betty had already gotten there with Butch. Butch was just three, two weeks older than Annamary and was already a brat. I remember the banner hanging in the big front window. It was Red and Blue with three white stars. One was for Uncle Russell, he was a Captain in the Air Force. One was for Uncle Francis. He was a Sergeant in Macarthur’s army in the Philippines. The third was for Uncle Wayne. He was a Sergeant too, with the 101st Airborne.

I don’t remember that specific Christmas Eve dinner. My Grandmother Hays cooking was not remarkable – except for the steamed pudding she made each year for Christmas. I do remember going into the living room after dinner. Dad and Granddad lit up their Dutch Masters filling the room with a strange mixture of acrid tobacco and the fresh smell of pine needles. We gathered to open the few presents that the war time economy permitted. Toys were cheap plastic or a composite of sawdust and glue. I don’t remember the present I received. Annamary’s was a doll, of course. I did not pay attention to Butch.

What I do remember was Grandfather switching on the Philco and hearing Bing Crosby’s mellow baritone.

I'll be home for Christmas.
You can plan on me.
Please have snow and mistletoe
And presents on the tree

My Grandmother started to sob and my Mother and Aunt Betty wept with her. Dad and Uncle Joe choked up and even Grandfather’s emotionless eyes were moist. I didn’t understand then why the adults were so upset. I had never seen my Grandmother cry.

Christmas Eve will find me
Where the love light gleams
I'll be home for Christmas
If only in my dreams

I remembered the word that my Grandfather choked out. Bastogne. He got up, walked from the room and stood leaning on the newel post, his face hidden by his big hands. Bastogne. I went over and wrapped my arms around his waist and he reached down an grasped my shoulders. Much later my mother explained. Uncle Wayne was one of those paratroopers reported surrounded in the Belgian snows.

That same night German counter battery fire caught Linda’s Uncle Jim Thomas. His artillery battalion was part of Patton’s third army driving north to relieve the 101st. He was beyond dreams and would not complete his long journey home until 1948.

Wars are different now. There are no longer front lines and attacks on a massive scale. The enemy is no longer identified by its uniforms. But the blood is still red and death is still as silent and soldier’s families still dread the knock on the door.