Phil and most of the men attended a church service on Christmas morning conducted by their chaplain in a village church. Except for some shattered windows, the church had suffered little damage from the shelling. Phil noted the contrast between the dirty, unshaven men and the pristine, beautiful church, with the sun pouring through the stained glass windows that had survived bombardment.[1]

After the Christmas service, the men enjoyed a special meal—roast turkey, creamed potatoes, and other trimmings that the division quartermaster had obtained for the holiday. A special surprise was the arrival of several Christmas packages delivered by the Quartermaster staff, which had made a special effort to distribute as many letters and packages as possible to the men. He wrote to his mother the following day:

Somewhere in France

Dearest Mom and Pop.

I’m now back with the outfit, but as you can see by the address I have changed Companies. But there is a change over every now and then, much less with we older officers.

Honey I got quite a few of your packages and they say they will bring my mail up tomorrow. But your packages were opened on Christmas day.

I got the fruit cake, the Angle(sic) food cake, the one from the OES. A box of candy from Okla. The box with the dog food in it.

I don’t have my meat now. So I gave that to our Bn Medical Officer for their guys. Also I got the polo shirts and I wish you would send me one the 1st and the 15th of each month. You see the shirt in a package by its self won’t weigh much.

I can’t tell you and dad how much I enjoyed opening each and every one of them. It was almost like being home.

I could close my eyes and see you two standing together arm in arm watching while I opened every one of mine. That wasn’t to(sic) many years ago was it?

But you can bet your boots that we will have one gay one next year. And I’m going to make a gallon of egg nog then drink the whole thing my self.

Well mom when I get my mail tomorrow I’ll be able to write you a long one.

Take care
Love
Phil

After lunch, a single German fighter plane flew over the CP at treetop level, likely on a photo-reconnaissance mission, because he didn’t strafe the men. A .50-caliber anti-aircraft gun opened up, striking the Messerschmitt. 

Black smoke erupted from the engine. The pilot used his momentum to gain altitude, then he rolled the burning wreck, and bailed out. The men broke out in cheers.

That should have been the end of it—just another Luftwaffe pilot sitting in a POW cage. But the pilot, swinging from his parachute harness as he drifted down, pulled out his pistol and began firing at the men. The Americans didn’t hesitate. In an instant, dozens of infuriated GIs unleashed their weapons. One of them said, “By the time he hit the ground, there was hardly enough of him to bury. He shot first; we shot last.”

Later on Christmas Day, the 3rd Battalion was ordered off the line and brought back to Kaysersberg and placed in regimental reserve. That night, Phil joined K Company as the Company Executive Officer. The company commander and the men welcomed him with open arms. Phil considered himself fortunate to be with his new company for several days before going back into combat. He wanted to get to know the men as much as possible before returning to action.

Phil knew they needed to be prepared to fight again should a counter-attack occur, but for now, it was time for hot food, warm showers, clean uniforms, and much-needed sleep. The war could wait for another day.[2]

~~~~~

[1] Larimore, At First Light, 176-177.

[2] Larimore, At First Light, 177.

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