In December of 1944 the German army sieged Bastogne.  The maneuver was part of Hitler’s last-ditch counteroffensive to reverse the Allies’ progress in the weeks following D-Day.  The Battle of the Bulge, as it became known, was named after the bulge in the battle lines caused by this advance.  Hitler’s ultimate objective was on the coast.  He sought to capture the strategic port of Antwerp, Netherlands.  But to get there he first needed Bastogne. 

Bastogne was a necessary transportation hub--an intersection of roads that could help Hitler’s tanks cut through Allied supply lines.  The Allies knew the importance of the city, but, given the difficult terrain, considered it an unlikely place for the Germans to launch their counteroffensive.   Accordingly, the Reich broke through the un-reinforced Allied line and surrounded 11,000 members of 101st Airborne Division, a battle-weary unit sent Bastogne before the attack to recuperate after months of constant fighting.  Recuperate they would not.  Instead, troops sat freezing in foxholes they’d dug into the floor of the Ardennes forest, enduring one of the coldest European winters on record.  They did not even have cold weather clothing, let alone the materiel to resist the tanks, artillery, bombs, and waves of infantry that would follow. 

If you are like me, you may have only vaguely recalled hearing about Bastogne.  It was featured prominently in HBO’s Band of Brothers.  Being stationed in Germany for two years, I’d read newspaper articles about Belgian tributes to American WWII veterans on/around D-Day.  I knew that the Americans won--they they’d resisted the advancing Germans and liberated Belgium after five years of Nazi occupation.  But to hear it from the Belgians directly is another thing completely. 

In Bastogne there are American flags and monuments everywhere, tanks scattered about, sometimes there's just a turret sitting on limestone with a plaque or wreath below, not to mention multiple museums, and even a themed-restaurant where one can drink “Airborne” beer out of a ceramic helmet.  Sure, some of it is a little kitschy but the Belgians I met are very genuine in their love for the alliance.

Speaking of museums, I visited Bastogne Barracks, which is an actual Belgian military installation, and formerly the battle headquarters of the 101st Airborne Division during the siege.  The exhibits are maintained by the Belgian army, the tour guides are Belgian soldiers, and admission is free.  The entire tour takes two-and-a-half hours.  It is a testament to their gratitude that the Belgians continue devoting public funds and public servants to keep the Bastogne story vividly animated for future generations.

Our tour guide was a former infantryman named Ludwig who fought in places like Kosovo until he was sidelined by leukemia.  Still on active duty, he now gives tours at Bastogne Barracks in three languages, showing tourists the room in the cellar where General McAuliffe famously replied to the German Commander’s demand for surrender with an insult: “N U T S ! ... The American Commander.”

The other big exhibit is the tanks.  There’s a lot of them.  Bastogne Barracks restores old military vehicles.  It can take up to three years to complete a tank, due to a shortage of parts, in which case the Belgians are sometimes known to fabricate missing components from scratch.  There are approximately 50 restored vehicles at Bastogne Barracks.  I was struck by how large the Sherman tank actually is. 

This trip wasn’t all about Bastogne.  To get there I had to cross the Maginot Line, which is an urban explorer’s paradise.  I planned to hit an old French barracks and NATO command bunker on the way, and it was not a disappointing visit.

The French barracks or Camp d’Angevillers was constructed in the 1930s as a peacetime location to house troops of the nearby Ouvrage Rochonvillers.  The Ouvrage Rochonvillers is a massive fortification on the Maginot Line, which futilely resisted the German Blitzkrieg and later served as a French/NATO nuclear bunker in the 1960s.

I rose early on Sunday and walked the Madasson Memorial before departing Bastogne.  I had the entire place to myself.  The massive concrete structure was cold and solemn and I felt cold and solemn.  It is an emotional place.  I read the inscription in the center of the memorial, which is shaped in the same star that adorned American war machines.  LIBERATORIBVS AMERICANIS POPVLVS BELGICVS MEMOR.  Then I thought of Ludwig and his enthusiastic presentation and the women who gasped when he handed them the replica of a machine gun.  They do remember us here.  I will remember them too.