GAIL DRAKE: A chocolate Christmas and more

It was Christmas Eve, 1944. The air was bitter cold as snow flurries fell on the tall trees of the Ardennes, a thick forested region in Belgium. The coldest winter in 50 years. Ice glistened off the tanks, trucks and other military equipment. Soldiers from the 508th Parachute Infantry Regiment rolled up their bedrolls from sleeping on the forest floor and tossed them into the trucks. It was 4 a.m.

Six months before, on June 5, 1944, the 508th had boarded C-47s and took flight for Normandy, parachuting into a bank of clouds on D-Day. Of the 130 that jumped, all but 15 were wounded or killed. After D-Day, the 508th returned to England to regroup. In September they parachuted into Holland as part of the 82nd Airborne Division to combat Nazi forces in northern Europe. Mile by mile, the Allies began to free European villages.

Then on Dec. 16, 1944, Allied forces were completely caught off guard by a surprise German assault. In what is now known as The Battle of the Bulge, Hitler pushed a massive campaign westward before turning attention to the Russian Army on the Eastern Front. The terrain in the Ardennes was rugged with deep ravines, dense forest and winding roads. If German tanks reached the flatlands, they could rapidly drive north and split Allied forces.

U.S. forces took the brunt of that brutal assault and successfully blocked Germany from accessing key roads. Nazi armory and infantry were forced into congested areas, giving the Allies time to reinforce thinly held positions. The 508th was rushed into the breach and formed a defensive line at Their-du-Mont near Leige. Word came that Panzer tank units were heading their way.

Paratrooper Fred Gladstone hunkered down with his foxhole buddy, William Sobolewski of Minnesota. Fred and Bill had become the best of friends. An older soldier at age 29, Bill was hilarious. The two had fought side by side since Holland. Though never said, Fred knew he would take a bullet for his comrade and Bill for him.

On Dec. 23, the two were sent out together for nighttime reconnaissance patrol. Bill joked: “Fred, you go first. I have a wife and kid.” The white blanket of snow gleamed in the moonlight as the two crunched through snow up the crest of a ridge. Fred thought of his parents back home in Chicago, and Bill’s wife and child. He wondered what they would encounter over the ridge. Terrified German conscripts or seasoned Nazi warriors?

The next day, the 508 was ordered to do a “strategic withdrawal” — retreat rapidly and blow up bridges. They moved quickly to put distance between themselves and the enemy. Dawn broke on Christmas Day, and the company sat down, weary and hungry, but safe on a hillside. Bill reached into his pocket and pulled out a slim, flat object wrapped in paper.

“Got you a present, Fred. Merry Christmas!”

A chocolate candy bar. What a delicacy in the midst of combat. However did Bill find a chocolate bar in the midst of those grim circumstances.

It was the best Christmas gift Fred ever received.

A few weeks later Bill was fatally wounded in combat.

Fred continued fighting with his platoon, taking some shrapnel in his leg. He returned to Fort Benning at the end of World War II and became a born-again Christian. For the next 50 years, Fred Gladstone served as a minister, eventually settling in Darien. He never forgot his friend nor his generous Christmas gift. He spoke often about it, noting that the value of the gift is the giver and the giver’s ability. His friend had given him all that he could give in the day of battle.

More than 2,000 years ago, against the darkness of evil and the rule of Rome, God in Heaven delivered His gift to mankind. “For unto us a child is born, unto us a Son is given.” The most valuable gift — “God the Son wrapped in flesh” — was given on Christmas Night. John 3:16 cites the reason: “That whosoever believes in Him should not perish but have everlasting life.”