THREE TRUE STORIES (honest, I swear) about the Battle of the Bulge.
Gen. Anthony McAuliffe really did say "nuts." His famous reply to the German surrender demand at Bastogne 50 years ago today was widely reported, but almost as widespread was the grapevine talk that "the actual language used by the feisty American general was considerably stronger and more profane," as the New York Times put it.
But reconstructions by historians, based on interviews with the general and eye and ear witnesses, agree it was "nuts."
Wherever General McAuliffe went thereafter people who recognized him would say to him or call him "Nuts!" He came to hate the word, not so much personally as soldierly. "The thing that burns me up is that we fought a very good battle," he said many years later. "Our soldiers fought like hell, and all anyone remembers is that one lousy word."
Personally he came to be able to joke about it. He liked to tell a story about being invited to dinner by "a dear old Southern lady. I had a delightful time talking to her and her charming guests. I was pleased because no mention was made the entire evening of the 'nuts' incident. As I prepared to depart and thanked my hostess for an enjoyable evening, she replied, 'Thank you, and good night, General McNut.' "
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Because English-speaking Germans in American uniforms had infiltrated the American lines, sentries were told to be extra careful in their challenges. Gen. Omar Bradley reminisced later:
"Three times I was ordered to prove my identity by cautious GIs. The first time by identifying Springfield as the capital of Illinois (my questioner held out for Chicago); the second by locating the guard between the center and the tackle of a line of scrimmage; the third time by naming the current spouse of a blonde named Betty Grable. Grable stopped me, but the sentry did not. Pleased at having stumped me, he nevertheless passed me on."
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Who was the best-known American in the Battle of the Bulge? In a timeless time frame, not General McAuliffe but, probably, a green young lieutenant who was a rifle platoon leader and motor officer. Years later his first sergeant (John Bevilaqua) recalled the first day they came under fire:
"All of us were dog tired. Suddenly there were short swishes and loud roars as German 88-caliber cannons began to bracket the convoy. Within seconds Lt. Agnew had stopped the convoy and had everyone in ditches. As round after round fell on us and around us, many of the recruits began to panic and wanted to run, but the lieutenant kept hollering at them that everything would be all right. He used a firm, confident voice and the soldiers believed him. The company suffered only eight casualties, and I believe the leadership of the man who later became vice president of the United States had a lot to do with this low casualty rate."