Battle of the Bulge

Miracle in Disguise

The date was December 16, 1944 and the temperature that particular day, was well below freezing. The 106th infantry division of the United States Army was marching through the heavily forested Ardennes Mountains of Belgium on this day, unknowingly into the bloodiest battle the US would see in WWII. This battle, now known as the Battle of the Bulge, claimed the lives of over 81,000 American soldiers and 100,000 German soldiers. It was an absolute massacre, and the 106th division had no idea what they were about to be getting themselves into.

My grandfather, Dr. Joseph Sowa, was the leader of a platoon of the 106th. Although rarely talked about, the story of this battle rests just as clear in my mind today as it did 10 years ago when it was told to me. I was told that the temperature that day was the type of cold that freezes you right down to the bone. On top of it being freezing, the ground was covered with well over a foot of snow, making the trek through the Ardennes one of extreme difficulty.

As the sun set for the day, the temperatures plummeted even lower, worsening what already seemed like the "worst weather the Ardennes Forest has ever seen". At some point of trudging through the snow, my grandfather began to lose feeling in his right foot. He didn't make much of it at the time, assuming everyone else was going through the exact same thing. He had to continue pressing his platoon on, so there was no time to stop for such a small problem.

Well, after a couple more hours of marching, the numb feeling he was experiencing in his foot began to travel up his leg. Walking was becoming increasingly harder, and it seemed as if from his knee down there was absolutely no feeling. Before he was able to mention it to the field doctor, the field doctor approached him as he noticed his right leg seemed as if it were being dragged.

After a short examination, the doctor determined my grandfather had a severe case of frostbite, and believed that in order to save the rest of his leg he would have to be sent back to the hospital immediately and have his lower leg amputated. He was airlifted out of the Adrennes, and was brought to the closest field hospital.

Although my grandfather couldn't press on, his platoon had to. His men continued marching on through the mountains.

Back at the hospital, the doctors determined that amputation of the leg was unnecessary, and were able to bring his right leg out of frostbite. The relief felt when he was told this