Lt. Boggess and the Battered Bastards

Lt. Boggess' muscles swelled as he pushed the heavy steel top-hatch of his Sherman open then popped his head outside. Like a hare awakening from hibernation, Boggess eyed the wind-swept fields of Belgium, relieved to see the vast stretches of snow finally melting. Fresh air flowed towards his face and entered his nostrils. As Boggess felt the warm spring air on his face, he happily concluded that there will be no more cracked lips, chilblains or bone-chilling breezes.

For the last few months, Boggess and his fellow tankers of the 4th Armored Division have been fighting an uphill battle against Hitler's SS Panzer Divisions. Not only had they had to contend with the more thickly armored German tanks but they had to deal with one of the coldest winters in years.

As Boggess' 38-ton Sherman drove down the muddy country road, the steady rumble of his tank's engine lulled his thoughts to his memories. He began to daydream about the past, in all its frigidness and bitterness.

The young lieutenant soon found himself drifting back to the beginning of the Battle of the Bulge where he and his crew had taken part in relieving the isolated town of Bastogne from a German siege. Known as "The Battle of the Bulge" for the fact that a German surprise offensive caused a "Bulge" in Allied lines, Boggess remembered the conflict as one of the coldest and bloodiest periods of the war.

In the five days it took for Boggess and the rest of his division to relieve the encircled town of Bastogne, the tankers had officially tallied their dead at 1,000. Their progress had been a fight of tooth and nail. Every mile had been infested with German mines and tank obstacles. German soldiers set ambushes with anti-tank rifles specifically designed to punch holes in the Shermans. The weather and terrain had been to the tankers disadvantage as well. Inhibiting shell craters stopped vehicles dead in their tracks while mirror-like ice made it nearly impossible to drive at night with headlights.

Boggess cringed when he remembered the loud crack that the German AT Rifles made. Although he hated what they stood for, he had to admit the Nazis were crafty. He believed that if it weren't for his luck, his Sherman would now be a piece of scrap metal rusting in the woods.

When Lieutenant Boggess and his column finally managed to make it to Bastogne, they were greeted by the cold, tired and bitter men of the 101st Airborne Division.

"The Screaming Eagles!" Boggess had roared on top of his Sherman while tossing ration crates to the hungry paratroopers. He had tied an assortment of K-rations to the back of his Sherman along with some boxes of small arms ammo. He almost felt like Santa Claus by the way the troopers had been cheering and shouting "Merry Christmas!" as they shared the much-needed supplies.

At the time Boggess had chuckled when he remembered his gunner, who was up there with him, whispered to him, "more like the frozen eagles."

The lieutenant and his crew didn't know it at the time but the 101st had lost twice as many men as the tankers. In the seven-day siege, the 101st by themselves, had held out against three German Divisions, two of which were armored. The paratroopers had been ordered to hold Bastogne "at all costs." Boggess couldn't help but feel a little emotional when he found out that the cost had been the lives of 2,000 men.

Soon after arriving in Bastogne, Lt. Boggess had to report to General McAuliffe's HQ on account of a mandatory divisional operation order. Along the way Boggess had noticed a paratrooper urinating on his rifle and assumed the trooper was doing this to melt the ice that prohibited it from firing.

When Boggess asked why the trooper couldn't just melt some snow to unjam it, the trooper replied bluntly that he "didn't need advice from a woman." When Boggess asked why the trooper thought he was a woman, the trooper responded by iterating "only a woman would volunteer to ride around all day in an armored Frigidaire."

The lieutenant had chuckled at that, then suggested the trooper be more grateful to the men who had just rescued them from three German divisions. At this the trooper eyes him, frowned, then spouted: "We didn't need to be rescued!" then stormed off angrily. In his haste the trooper's leg got snagged on some wire and he ended up tumbling over himself into a pile of rubble. Boggess nearly laughed when he noticed flecks of piss splattering the private's jacket as he fell.

A loud crash had followed and Boggess found himself walking over to help the young man who was struggling to free himself from the surrounding clutter. Boggess extended a hand and, when the trooper took it, their eyes met.

In that moment a heaviness had risen in his chest. By the way heavy bags hung under the kid's eyes and the fact that his stare held a gaze of defiance led Boggess to believe the paratrooper had just been through one of the hardest, if not the hardest, week of his entire life.

"Thanks," the trooper said getting to his feet.

Boggess blinked then suppressed a laugh when he realized the trooper's urine splattered jacket wasn't a jacket at all. The private had converted a sleeping bag into a wind breaker by cutting arm holes in it then stitching a poncho to the sleeves.

"Right, well. Best of luck to you," Boggess said then began heading to the HQ. After a few feet he turned then added "Oh, and you're welcome."

The trooper blinked twice at him, smiled meekly then shook his head. Boggess nodded, then both went their separate ways after that exchange.

When Boggess finally made it to General McAuliffe's HQ he found that the operations order was being held in the nearby auditorium. The lieutenant entered and found a seat next to some officers of the 101st. To his interest they were passing around a piece of bond paper and laughing childishly. When Boggess asked what was so funny, a captain turned around and passed him a copy.

"Our response to the German's attempt at parley," the paratrooper said with a grin.

Boggess nodded then opened it. The note read:

"To the U.S.A. Commander of the encircled town of Bastogne:
The fortune of war is changing. This time the U.S.A. forces in and near Bastogne have been encircled by strong German armored units. There is only one possibility to save the troops from total annihilation: that is the honorable surrender of the encircled town."

Splitting the piece of paper down the center was a dashed line followed by the American response:

"To the German Commander:
  Nuts!
The American Commander"

Boggess soon found that, he too, was laughing like a child.

"Nuts?" Boggess asked the Captain.

"In other words," he laughed "go to hell."

Boggess chuckled and extended his hand, "Charles Boggess."

The Captain smiled, nodded, then shook his hand firmly, "Richard Winters."

The laughter, which had risen dramatically since Boggess's arrival, settled down when the writer himself, General McAuliffe, took the stage.

Grinning sheepishly, the square-jawed paratrooper pointed out that he had "never seen so many grown men laughing about nuts before."

A stocky-looking major piped up: "not just any nuts sir, your nuts!"

At this, the whole room had burst into laughter. In the few minutes before the room had finally settled down, Boggess couldn't help but wonder if the papers back home would ever write about McAuliffe's "nuts".

That meeting had been over three months ago. It was now March and, although his encounters with the 101st had been brief, Boggess had been embedded with a special kind of a new-found respect for the paratroopers. They were defiant yet loyal, childish but brave. There was not a single doubt in the lieutenant's mind that "The Battered Bastards of the Bastion of Bastogne" had been worth saving, even if they "didn't need to be."

From the top hatch of his Sherman, the young lieutenant felt the warmth of the sun as the first vestiges of spring entered his nostrils. With a gloved hand, he reached into his jacket. Despite not knowing when the war would end, he was comforted when he felt a crinkled piece of bond paper.

"Surrender?" he asked aloud, thinking about the miles and miles they still had left to go to reach Berlin.

Smiling, and with a tinge of defiance, he answered.