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The nights were cold; most all saw the thermometer dip well below freezing. And there was snow, huge flakes that covered the ground, turning the landscape into a winter wonderland.

But it wasn’t wonderful by any stretch of the imagination.

This may sound like I’m referencing the recent stretch of winter weather here in the Roanoke-Chowan area. But that’s not the case. Rather, I’m thinking of the harsh winter of 1945….not here locally, but some 4,000 miles away on another continent.

Eighty years ago this month, a simple farm boy from Northampton County was thrust into one of the bloodiest battles in United States military history.

At age 18, Ray Bryant was plowing the farm fields near his home in the Drake’s Crossroad community…..or, as in his words, “staring at the north end of a southbound mule.” Prior to his 19^th birthday, he was at Fort Benning (Georgia) as a member of the United States Army, swatting mosquitoes and training how to fight in the South Pacific during World War II.

Little did he know at that time that those plans would take a drastic change.

With their backs against the wall following the Allied Forces successful invasion of Normandy, France (D-Day) in 1944, the German army hatched a plan to cut through the Ardennes Forest (an area located primarily in Belgium) in an attempt to overwhelm the Americans and their allies. More than 200,000 German troops and approximately 1,000 tanks comprised Hitler’s last chance of changing the outcome of the war.

This full-scale German offensive, which began on Dec. 16, 1944, caught the Allied Forces off guard, and the Germans, advancing along a 75-mile front line, were initially able to break through the American-held territory. That marked the beginning of the famed Battle of the Bulge.

U.S. Army Gen. Dwight D. Eisenhower rushed reinforcements to that battle. Within days, Lt. Gen. George S. Patton Jr. had turned his Third U.S. Army to the north and was counterattacking against the German flank.

Among Patton’s troops was the 87^th Infantry Division – the “Golden Acorns.”

Ray Bryant and thousands of his 87^th Infantry comrades had their orders changed. Instead of heading to the South Pacific, his troop ship made a beeline to Europe where he and others were outfitted with winter clothing, given M-1 rifles, boxes and belts of ammunition, grenades, and sent into battle within the vast Ardennes Forest.

I know all of this because Ray Bryant told me so. He is my father.

There he was, seven months shy of his 20^th birthday, joining 87^th Infantry Division’s counterattack, which by the end of January 1945 had forced the Germans to retreat.

It’s interesting to note that the 87^th Infantry was nicknamed the “Baby Division” because many of its initial filler soldiers were among the first eighteen and nineteen year olds conscripted after the draft age was lowered from 20 to 18 years old in November 1942.

Over the course of just 41 days, 700,000 Allied troops pushed the Germans all the way back to their homeland. But victory came with a cost as the United States suffered well over 80,000 casualties, including an official Army count of 19,246 dead and more than 23,000 American troops taken prisoner.

As for the 87^th Infantry Division, 1,109 were killed and 4,110 were wounded. With God on his shoulder, Ray Bryant’s name wasn’t on either list.

As a teenager studying history in school, I often asked my father about the time he spent in the Army, particularly his involvement in the Battle of the Bulge and afterwards. I learned that the 87^th Infantry kept moving forward.

The 87th crossed the Kyll River on March 6, 1945 and took Dollendorf, Germany on March 8. The Division crossed the Rhine River on March 25 and secured Grossenlinden, Langgons, and Plauen. On May 6, 1945, it took Falkenstein and maintained its positions until Hitler surrendered two days later (VE Day).

Dad was sent home at that point, still holding the rank of Private First Class. For his efforts he received the American Service Medal with three bronze stars.

Despite my questions, he never went into great detail about the war. Dad never mentioned that he fired his M-1 rifle, but deep down I know he did. I think his deep faith in God wouldn’t allow him to openly admit that some of the bullets he fired found their mark.

He did share one story about coming close to being wounded. Dad said a bullet grazed his skin, about waist high. He also talked about the Germans constantly firing artillery shells, especially those known as “screaming mimis” which, due to their sound, were also used as psychological warfare.

Ray Bryant took more pride in being a great husband, father, grandfather, brother, uncle, and friend. His 40-plus years of toting a surveyor’s scope and rod as a Soil and Water Conservation Technician with the United States Department of Agriculture made him happy. The time he spent as a youth Sunday School teacher and church deacon made his life even more complete.

There’s no amount of money on planet Earth that is equal in value of the life lessons he taught me.

Although he left us on June 21, 2004 after a 16-month battle with Lewy Body Dementia, a form of Parkinson’s Disease, Ray Bryant was and still is my hero. This Northampton farm boy was part of the United States of America’s greatest generation. Because of him, and hundreds of thousands of brave soldiers like him, I’m writing this column today in American English, without censorship, and without the threat of harm. And you are reading this in American English, without a single word being redacted.

If you have a military veteran in your family, at your place of employment, at your church, or just know of one who has worn or still wears today one of the uniforms of our armed forces, please shake their hand and thank them for their service.

Cal Bryant is the Editor of Roanoke-Chowan Publications. Contact him at cal.bryant@r-cnews.com or 252-332-7207.