The battle of the bulge

Sunday morning and we were to get back on to our original schedule punctures/breakdowns?rubbish navigation / permitting

we snatched a coffee and quossant in the reception while admiring the fortitude of our Chinese Comrades, one fellow sat down and eat a full breakfast, then went back got another plate and sat at another table and polished off another breakfast !! we looked on aghast, perhaps he was some sort of Chinese champion nosher ?? so we started to bet how many more breakfasts he could eat, he then joined us by the window and proceeded to fill a large cup with orange juice, empty it and look around the room until he thought he was not observed and then repeat the exercise another 8 times, we gave up in the end and went to our room to collect our gear, and as we loaded the Guzzis our Comrade was still packing them away while the rest of the tourists filtered out to the coach

one of life's little surprises, the biggest one being how skinny he was ??
eventually all was loaded on including our souvenirs and we fired the bikes up and rode away, our destination Liege and then the Ardennes , initially I tried to navigate but the busy traffic slowed me down and the roadworks caused confusion, had I have remembered to look at my town map all would have been clear, however himself fired up his google things and soon had us moving, albeit by a very strange route, but we got there in the end, stopping for fuel we observed a massive parade of young people and scouts wearing Davy Crockett hats ?? however we avoided the crush and soon joined the ring road and then the N3 to Liege, now I have no trouble reading road signs but himself got confused when the lingo changed to Flemish and Liege suddenly became Lek

but the N3 was located and we purred along occasionally passing another motorcyclist, unusual sights kept popping up though , a jet aircraft in the middle of a roundabout, strange looking offices with large red signs and unusual window displays ??? we bumped our way around Leuven with its many roadworks and strange surfaces then Tienen passes and we enter the twilight zone, more red fronted shops including several with obvious bullet holes and fire damage ??, a film set perhaps then as we navigate Sint Truden things become clearer, sitting at a major road junction waiting for the lights we both look right to see a young lady wearing little more than a smile beckoning us in ?? I gave his bike a kick to keep him focused and we rode on, this being the Sabbath such things could only lead to eternal damnation, as we round a bend a bar appears in our blurred vision so we pull up and decide to take morning coffee and biscuits, no red lights just normal families and we engage in a paper aircraft contest with the local kids, and lose !

One of things that I notice with Brits is their mad desire to press on until they reach their destination often arrived tired, red eyed, and short tempered, one thing I soon learnt is that my lack of natural riding skills become more obvious as the hours pass, so I like to follow our European cousins and take regular breaks to refresh my spirit and to savour each section of the ride and imprint it upon my memory, not for me a high speed white knuckle ride, just a gentle canter and keeping well below the speed limits allows me to take in the scenery

Coffee finished we ride on, soon we ride down the hill and into Liege, now I had suggested to himself that we hop on the motorway and cut across the hill to our next point of call, but he is firmly against such high speed madness, probably fearing that I would lose control and wipe us both out !! so we ride into the city and stop for another much needed break and some very unusual food, some sort of festival is in progress and we watch as the military on edge because of recent problems shift a badly parked commercial vehicle, all done quickly and without fuss, after that break we walk back to our motorcycles parked up in the African Quarter and as we ride away a young lady ( well younger than me) attempts to join me on the seat, I explain that I am sorry I have things to see and they dont include That ! Himself finds amusement at my predicament and we barrel out and away to the hills , the ride was fun and involved lots of very curvy roads, the surface however left something to be desired, before we left I did warn Jonathan not to hang out on the bends as he was taught, although it gives you a better view through the curves, you are not on home ground, and the locals and German nutters in high powered supercars and superbikes tend to use all of the road

a few miles along he understood my caution as a bunch of nutters flew round the bend at bonkers speeds sliding well over the line then a group of supercars did the same all hitting around 140Kmh

coming into one village a Wartime event was on and the town was closed off to celebrate , so we skirted it somehow but then had to cross a river via a Bailey bridge, the view straight down was not pleasant and I was soon across, then another village we found closed off for a religious celebration with giant puppets and musicians making it all the more interesting, a stunning visual pageant that shimmered past us, then back to quite roads again, after about an hour and a half's spirited riding and weaving and a stop to purchase some snacks for later we make the final climb to our next stop eventually signs appear for La Gleize and its King Tiger tank, we skirted the village as Jonathan could not locate it and the GPS appeared to indicate another direction, I waited for him to return, and then pointed out the bloody great big tank blocking the skyline !! ( its a big ugly bastard thing)

any one could miss it ! Thats the trouble with watching technology whereas I tend to memorise the map and directions, although I still get lost now and then. ( well a lot)

we pulled up and dismounted to examine this behemoth, it weights around 70 tonnes and is powered by a Maybach 12 cylinder petrol engine, up close its an intimidating sight and coupled with its powerful armament it must have struck fear into the American troops

La Gleize King Tiger Tank

Rue de l'Eglise 7, 4987 Stoumont, Belgium

This Surviving German King Tiger 213 Tank took part in the 1944 WW2 Battle of the Bulge in the Belgium Ardennes. If you look closely you can see the damage from an American round that disabled the gun, a very lucky shot indeed, its was sold by the Americans to the local innkeepers wife for a bottle of her best Cognac, adjoining it is the Museum.

As we were running late we gave the museum a miss, perhaps a second visit is called for.

onwards again and the GPS co ordinates guide us to our next stop the Malmedy Massacre memorial now I was a little surprised by this, normally American memorials are bedecked with flags and giant signs and walls and roadways, we arrived where it was supposed to be, but again himself rode past and could not locate it, I pulled up on a busy road junction at the top of a hill, and then saw a small sign , this must be it, so we parked up and located the memorial a small roofed over shed like a bus shelter with about 30 feet of dry stone walling to one side

Malmedy Massacre Memorial

Route de Luxembourg 11, 4960 Malmedy, Belgium

One this spot a total of 81 Americans were killed in the single worst atrocity against U.S. troops during World War II in Europe.

Of course these atrocities were committed by the S.S. a branch of the service that seemed to bring out the worst in people and attract those with a lust for killing and power, after a period of reflection we remounted and rode on to our final stop for the day, one that we both found more powerful and emotive than anything seen so far, oddly if your take the time to read about it, the man responsible Joachim Pieper was later caught and tried and sentenced to death, he escaped this judgement however and eventually a free man moved to France to retire, he did not however live long and died in unusual circumstances !

Once again we resumed our ride through the Ardennes as the sun began to recede below us and the air chilled a little these pleasant country roads snaked and turned and small tranquil villages passed by, barely touched it seemed by the violence of war ,then we started to notice that the village names had a more Germanic ring to them, indeed this part of Belgium was once Germany, but post WW1 repatriations caused it to be handed over to the Belgians, eventually signs appeared indicating Wereth, itself a small hamlet comprising of farm houses and barns but little else, we rode out of the village and up the hill, I saw the sign post ,again small and discreet and the memorial up to my right, so I indicated and turned off stepped off the machine and waited as Jonathans exhaust bark grew fainter while my machine ticked and creaked.

Eventually he returned having noticed my absence, although in all honesty he was truly enjoying these twisty alpine roads with their superb views ,and the sound of his Guzzis mellow growl was not unpleasant

once parked we walked up the track, now the sun was getting lower in the sky and traffic on the road was noticeable by its absence, almost as if they wished to leave us in peace this Sunday evening

The impression it made was so much stronger because of the contrast with the surroundings, although both tired and hungry we decided that to brew up here would be an insult, after all we are free to eat whenever we want !. So we sat and talked about our emotions at this point at the end of a long day, perhaps one or two of you reading this might care to wander a small way from the usual well publicised landmarks and pay a visit. For some one like me born post war, and growing up with the stories of relatives who fought in that awful conflict, to be able to visit something so small and so personal that for the actions of one man would have passed away forgotten and nothing more than a few cold lines in the history books, it was an emotional and rewarding place to come, if you think me morbid then you are wrong, history repeats itself, so only by showing each new generation the sins of the fathers can we ever hope to prevent this happening again

now this part of the trip was not on my original itinerary, but it was kindly suggested to me by an American Guzzi club contact Gregory S. Craig, Gregory himself a Veteran of that awful Vietnam conflict said that I would find it worth visiting , and we both agreed that it was the most moving and emotional of all the sights we visited. thank you Gregory for guiding me

A bit about that conflict for our readers

Those of you familiar with the battle of the Bulge will recall the dreadful weather that prevented Air cover and the dropping of munitions, the Germans broke through the Lines of a force that was already thinking the war was over and Germany beaten, of course history repeats itself as they pulled a similar trick in WW1

The terrain is heavily wooded with countless hills and is easy to move troops through using the natural cover, the American forces had to pull back and dig in around Bastogne, but some units were left to provide cover for the men of the 101st , cooks, drivers, tradesmen, any one who could hold a rifle was pulled in to the desperate fight

one of the most important factors in defending Bastogne from the German forces were the Artillery support units , these men working in the Field Artillery Battalions provided the firepower to keep the attacking troops back and keep the German tanks from moving in daylight

Equipped with the M1 155mm Howitzer they packed a tremendous punch ! now most people today know about the African American Tuskegee airmen and the Red Ball express, but little acknowledgement is given to the 260,000 Black troops in the European theatre, even far less people are aware of the brave young men of the 333rd and 969th battalions who fought so hard against a well trained and well equipped German invader already familiar with the terrain

in fact the casualty rate amongst the 333rd was so high, that even though only a few survived they ended up merged with the 969th although on paper they still existed as a working unit

These segregated troops saved many lives and yet little is heard about them and the terrible conditions that they fought under, but for the troops who fought around Bastogne the 969th and 333rd were well known and praised for their high rate of fire and accuracy

Now these young lads had been in action since the D Day landings at Utah beach in Normandy , comprising of White officers and Black enlisted men, they were located in the region of St Vith and the village of Schonberg from October 1944 , the service battery was located on the west side of the river Ours while the firing Batteries A,B,C were located across the east side of the river.

They were providing support for the Army VII corps and the 106th Infantry Div.

In the early hours of December the 16th the German Army began to shell the entire Schonberg area, following this up with a rapid advance of of German infantry and armoured vehicles, because of this the 333rd were ordered to move further west but requested by the Artillery commander of the 106th to leave batteries C and the service battery behind to support the 14th Cav and the 106th Div

The Germans made a rapid advance across land already well known to themselves, the next day they were in Schonberg itself and took control of the vital bridge , the service battery's attempted to move back to St Vith through the village but came under heavy and accurate fire pinning them down.

Those not killed were forced to surrender , and soon taken prisoner, however 11 men of the different battery's who were caught on the east side of the river walked overland heading N/W in the hope of reaching the American lines and safety.

Now these troops were not well trained infantry carrying high powered weapons and trained in fieldcraft, nor were they well armed or clothed , having but two rifles between them , also the weather conditions were abysmal, freezing cold and snow, this would tire them very quickly and make navigation difficult

At around 3pm that day they approached the first house they came to in the small hamlet of Wereth, this was owned by the Mathias Langer and he also had a family friend present along with his wife and children

The Langer family welcomed the men and brought them into the warmth of their house and fed them , however some people in the area would not welcome Americans and were Pro German, ( this area was once Germany until first world war reparations ) , in fact the family was also hiding two Belgian Deserters from the German army and had sent their eldest son into hiding to prevent the Nazis drafting him

At about 4pm that day a 4 man German Patrol of the 1st SS div arrived in Wereth and it is believed that a pro German resident informed them of the Americans location

the American troops surrendered quickly thinking that they would be taking captive and not wanting to endanger their hosts, the Americans were made to sit in the road until it became quite dark and were then marched away

During the night gunfire was heard and in the morning the villagers found the bodies of the 11 young men in a ditch at the corner of a cow pasture , fearing that the Germans would return they did not bury the bodies or attempt to move them, and the snow soon covered and preserved the bodies

and there they remained until January when the Americans broke through, and directed by the villagers members of the 99th Div I&R found the site and recorded the war crime

the official report noted that the men had been tortured, before being killed brutally and in cold blood

before the Bodies were taken away for a Christian burial an army photographer recorded everything
an investigation was begun and testimonies taken , however in spite of exhaustive enquiries the murderers were never located ( probably due to the fact that only civilians saw the German troops and would not have recognised the Div markings)

The Wereth 11 passed into the history books, 11 of the many thousands to die in that awful conflict. The paperwork however was filed away and kept safe

7 of these young men were buried in the American Cemetery at Henri-Chapelle in Belgium and the remaining four were returned to their families to be reburied at the end of hostilities

and that seemingly was that, just a footnote in history, apart from a few memories that would slowly fade as each generation passed on

But in 1994 Herman Langer the Son of Mathias Langer erected a small cross , with the names of the men in the corner of that same pasture where they were so brutally murdered, as a private gesture on the 50th anniversary of their deaths

However this little memorial remained virtually unknown, Wereth is a small hamlet with no schools or shops, not even a sign on the roadway to indicate the location of that awful event

nor was it listed in any books on the subject, on any maps or guides to the Battle of the bulge, even those who came looking had trouble finding it in this small German speaking community

Until 2001, when three Belgian citizens decided to create a fitting memorial to these men, and to honour the Black GIs of WW2, with the assistance of an American physician in Mobile Alabama, whose father had fought and was captured during the battle of the bulge the land was purchased and a fitting memorial was created to show the next generations the true horror that they must try to avoid being repeated once again

I am fairly sure that this is the only memorial to the Black G.I.s that served in WW2

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=N60OYvHSQ6w

As the Sun starts to set we pay our final respects and leave, each carrying our thoughts with us, himself sets his gadget up to locate our stop for the night, a petrol station ?? now I have kipped in some bizarre and often unsavoury places, but a petrol station is a new one on me, away we go climbing and swinging around narrow roads, and eventually we reach Bastogne, a town familiar to us both, its not very big, but at its centre is a large six way junction that once housed a railway station next to it, and the Sherman tank adjacent to the statue of General McAuliffe

still not quite believing the deal I follow himself down and we pull up outside Le Merceny Motel.

A modern Q8 petrol station with a fantastic timber roof structure, into reception and we are guided up to our rooms above the filling station, its all quite safe behind a few sheets of blast proof glass, and with solid concrete floors and an exit route away from the pumps it give me no worries ,bikes are parked up and our kit is brought in, the room is fantastic, as you enter the suite there is a set of racks and cupboards set up for motorcycle gear , a walk in shower bathroom, with oddly a tinted glass window into the bedroom ?? and a nice large room with tea and coffer making facilities, plus a coffee machine, Wi-Fi, TV, comfy chairs and a nice table, within 5 minutes it looks like a tip as we disgorge kit and clothing ,however finding a meal was a bit awkward as being late in the evening many restaurants were closed but no surprise on a Sunday

we wandered about town and could not find anything to eat so decided to pop back to the filling station shop and grab some food, oops, it was now closed, never mind exercise is good for you, back up the hill to the kwickemart we find some beer for himself and cake, and for me a crunchie and a pack of choco moos, then an early night