The harrowing story of: The Battle of the Bulge.

An amazing story. I'm a confirmed WWII buff. Was very inspired to read Kozak's account of the battle and his father's role in such!

My Father at the Battle of the Bulge

When weather cleared 80 years ago, U.S. planes filled the skies.

By Warren Kozak, WSJ

Dec. 15, 2024 4:36 pm ET

The author’s father, Capt. Sidney P. Kozak, left, with his younger brother, Pvt. William T. Kozak, after the Battle of the Bulge in Germany, 1945. Photo: Courtesy of Kozak Family

The Battle of the Bulge isn’t as venerated as Iwo Jima or the Normandy landings, but it was the bloodiest battle the U.S. fought in World War II. Between Dec. 16, 1944, and Jan. 25, 1945, more than 19,000 American soldiers were killed. Unlike the other battles, it began as a huge intelligence failure.

The Allies failed to spot the massive German buildup of 30 divisions with more than 1,000 tanks in the densely wooded Ardennes region—giving the Germans the advantage of complete surprise. The Allies managed to turn the battle around thanks to America’s tremendous ability to resupply as well as the heroism of the outnumbered GIs.

From the start, the weather favored the Germans. Heavy snow and bitter cold cut off the Allies’ great strength: its air power. With planes grounded by cloud cover, troops on the ground had to stop the advance.

Like many children of veterans, I had to rely on history books and movies to learn about the war. My father, Capt. Sidney P. Kozak, had been in the middle of the battle, but he seldom spoke of it when I was growing up—with one notable exception. When I was 19, my parents brought me along to retrace the route he took in 1944-45 from France through Germany.

One afternoon, we came to a field in Belgium that he had been searching for. “This is it,” he said under his breath, amazed that he found it.

At first, I didn’t understand. It was a field like any other. Then, uncharacteristically, my father opened up and began to recount the events of Dec. 24, 1944, when the skies finally cleared. He said the men around him felt the vibrations before they heard the sound. Then, as they looked up to the heavens, they saw a sight few have ever seen.

The mighty Eighth Air Force had finally been unleashed. On that one day, the U.S flew 1,138 tactical sorties (fighters) and more than 2,442 heavy bomber sorties.

My father tried to convey what it was like to see the entire sky filling with airplanes. He waved his arm across some imaginary horizon to add emphasis. “I couldn’t believe one country could build that many airplanes,” he said, still in awe. Gazing in the distance rather than at us, he then added something surprisingly personal: “It was the most religious experience of my life.”

It’s impossible to understand the effect that seeing thousands of airplanes, all heading in one direction, had on the men below. It must have been electrifying, and it gave them courage. At the same time, it must have scared the living daylights out of those on the receiving end.

My father has been gone for more than 20 years. I still think about him, especially at this time of year, along with all those young Americans, our boys, on that frozen ground. I see them alongside another group of miserably cold patriots 167 years earlier, on another Christmas at Valley Forge. And I see them all as equals.

Mr. Kozak is author of “Waving Goodbye: Life After Loss” and “LeMay: The Life and Wars of General Curtis LeMay.”