Remembering World War II Verviers and Stembert on Memorial Day

About six weeks ago, I received an email message from a Belgian visitor to my World War II website which I've been saving for Memorial Day. It reads in part: " I send you a view from Stembert 9/09/1944 at 2h. p.m. If someone is alive, please say my gratefulness!"

The lady who wrote the message witnessed Belgium's liberation from Nazi tyranny by Allied forces nearly sixty-five years ago. Her undying gratitude for American sacrifices on behalf of her countrymen is worth remembering at this time of year.

The writer of the message, Jeannine Loosveldt, was a small child when Stembert was freed from Germany's grip on September 9, 1944. She is the little girl with a big, white hair ribbon and a pensive look who is being held by her mother in front of an American armored vehicle in the image accompanying this article. The mother, a sturdy woman with a pretty smile, is also holding a homemade American flag.

Stembert, a hardscrabble pin-dot town in Eastern Belgium with a population of 5,770, lay just west of the German border. Its sloping hills and cobblestone streets were peppered with modest white and gray farmhouses.

My father might have seen young Jeannine on that day in September, or in the weeks and months thereafter. He was a sergeant radio truck operator in the 327^th Fighter Control Squadron, a unit of the American Ninth Air Force. Some three-hundred-men strong, the 327^th Fighter Control Squadron was one of the first American outfits to bed down in Stembert shortly after setting up headquarters in Verviers, an adjacent working-class textile city of 41,000.

For archival footage of the old tram system in Verviers, see YouTube here, here, and here.

Like America's modern Memorial Day (the original was a somber affair honoring fallen Civil War soldiers), Belgium's liberation was filled with celebration. Parades and parties adorned Verviers and Stembert.

If my dad were alive today-he died in 2004-he would have told Jeannine that he was equally grateful to the citizens of Stembert and Verviers for the many kindnesses which they bestowed upon him during the months that he was stationed there.

Stembertois and Vervietois were short on money but awash in hospitality. They fed my father generously when they had trouble feeding themselves. These altruistic Belgians would clean and mend my father's clothes and then refuse payment for their services.

Belgian gratitude for American sacrifices is alive and well today. It survives in the military cemetery at Henri-Chapelle where nearly 8,000 American soldiers are buried. These heroes are further enshrined at the cemetery's excellent website, "In Honored Glory."

Unfortunately for the Belgians, fall's joy became winter's terror. On December 16, 1944, barely three months after Belgium's liberation, well-armed Panzer divisions began a massive counterattack in Eastern Belgium and Luxembourg, which later became known as the Battle of the Bulge. The members of the 327^th Fighter Control Squadron were among 56,000 Americans hastily evacuated from Verviers, which was a three-day rest center for American infantrymen.

The Battle of the Bulge involved over one million men, including six-hundred thousand Americans, and was the single bloodiest battle ever fought by U.S. troops. During six weeks of intense fighting in sub-freezing weather amidst snowy ravines and forests, the Americans repelled the Germans at a cost of nineteen thousand dead and over sixty thousand wounded.

My father, an Air Corps support soldier, was usually five-to-ten miles behind front lines. When the Battle of the Bulge began, military commanders decided to evacuate the 327^th Fighter Control Squadron 13 miles west to Liege in order to keep the radio men safe. But the Germans captured several of them before they could leave.

Instead of being safer, the men of the 327^th Fighter Control Squadron were in greater danger than ever. Liege was a major industrial hub of the Meuse Valley and thus a front-line target for Luftwaffe bombing. In Liege, my father put in tough, 12-to-16-hour days in his radio truck while one-hundred-plus V-weapons flew over the city each day. For the first and only time in his life, he took up smoking. He didn't quit until he returned to Verviers in mid-January 1945, when the Battle of the Bulge was winding down .

Although my father's Battle of the Bulge experiences may sound harrowing, they paled in comparison with those of combat soldiers. For most of the war, fighter control technicians were relatively safe, and, due to the classified nature of their work, they were often given special perks.

Dad suffered bouts of guilt over his favored status, both during the war and for many decades thereafter. Although he enjoyed being feted by the Belgians, my father always said that he didn't deserve it.

Memorial Day is a time to celebrate freedom, so enjoy the beach and barbecues. But Memorial Day also merits solemn reflection. If you can't visit a military cemetery, try reading a war book or watching a good war movie, a pastime in which my father indulged. These and other activities combine entertainment with reflection, which is what Memorial Day is all about.

My father once told me that the Army's attempts at war pictures were lousy and that's why the "metal men" turned to Hollywood for help in promoting the war effort. One of the most realistic World War II movies is "Battleground," a 1950 film about the Battle of the Bulge directed by William Wellman. According to Imdb.com, Wellman flew for the French Foreign Legion during World War I and was a pilot instructor for the fledgling U.S. Army Air Corps between the wars. The excellent ensemble cast includes Van Johnson and a young Ricardo Montalban.

My other favorites include "Sergeant York" (1941) and "The Longest Day" (1962). For a fascinating look at wartime scientific innovation, try "The Dam Busters" (1955), starring Michael Redgrave as a World War II scientist who convinces the British government to allow him to develop a five-ton bomb that skips across water like a small, flat stone.