NUTS!

Eighty years ago, fighting raged in the Ardennes during the Battle of the Bulge – the deadliest campaign fought by Americans in WWII with 19,000 men killed and some 50,000 wounded. Hitler’s last, desperate gamble, a surprise attack involving more than 200,000 troops, quickly developed into a slugging match in bitter winter conditions. It was the greatest crisis to confront the Allies during the liberation of Western Europe, and no leader of American troops was placed under as much pressure as 46-year Anthony McAuliffe, commander of the men defending Bastogne.

When the Battle of the Bulge began on 16 December 1944, the commander of the 101st Airborne, Major General Maxwell D. Taylor, was not with his men. He had been called away to attend a staff conference in Washington DC. In his absence, control of the division passed to the rather dour McAuliffe, who had been in charge of the division’s artillery and had received the Distinguished Service Cross for jumping into Normandy.

McAuliffe had just missed out on the First World War, graduating from West Point in November 1918. He had become assistant division commander of the Screaming Eagles after his predecessor had been killed on D Day. By 22 December, as the Germans closed the vice on his beleaguered force holding Bastogne, he had clocked up over a hundred days of combat command.

McAuliffe was an unimposing figure with a broad face, lacking the ego and vanity of Patton and the charisma of 37-year-old James Gavin, who led the 82nd Airborne. But that late December, eighty years ago, he deservedly became a legend, famous back in the United States for his response to a German demand for surrender.  

It was late on the morning of December 22 when Pfc. Charles Kocourek of the 327th Glider Infantry Regiment, manning a position on the outskirts of the Belgian market town, spotted four Germans walking down a road toward him.

One was carrying a white flag.

“Why would four Germans at four hundred yards’ distance from our positions want to give up?” wondered Kocourek. “It doesn’t make sense.”  

A staff sergeant, Carl Dickinson, approached the Germans.

“According to the Geneva and Hague Conventions,” said one of the Germans, “we have the right to deliver an ultimatum.”

The enemy soldiers were blindfolded and taken before the commander of the 327th, Colonel Joseph Harper, who then telephoned Lt. Colonel Ned Moore, McAuliffe’s chief of staff.

The Germans, said Harper, had a message they wanted delivered to the commander of American forces in Bastogne.

That afternoon, Harper arrived at McAuliffe’s headquarters with the Germans’ message.

“What is it?” asked McAuliffe.

“It’s an ultimatum, sir,” said Harper.

“What does it say?” McAuliffe asked.

“They want you to surrender.”

“Aw, nuts!” said McAuliffe.

The message read:

December 22nd 1944.

To the U.S.A. Commander of the encircled town of Bastogne. The fortune of war is changing. This time the U.S.A. forces in and near Bastogne have been encircled by strong German armored units…There is only one possibility to save the encircled U.S.A troops from total annihilation: that is the honorable surrender of the encircled town. In order to think it over a term of two hours will be granted beginning with the presentation of this note.

If this proposal should be rejected one German Artillery Corps and six heavy A. A. Battalions are ready to annihilate the U.S.A. troops in and near Bastogne. The order for firing will be given immediately after this two hours' term. All the serious civilian losses caused by this artillery fire would not correspond with the well-known American humanity.

The German Commander.

McAuliffe was in no mood to consider surrender. His men were performing remarkably well, even though surrounded, outnumbered and with critical supplies almost exhausted. Indeed, the Germans were getting, as he later put it, “one hell of a beating.” They had failed to break through his defenses. McAuliffe had plenty of troops left, on the line and in reserve. And his artillery had performed superbly, stopping German attacks by concentrating fire from most batteries on one area.

The demand for surrender, said McAuliffe, was “way out of line.”

McAuliffe picked up a pencil. He was seated in a cubicle next to his operations room in the basement of an old Belgian Army barracks.

His staff stood nearby.

Several minutes passed.

“Well,” McAuliffe finally said, “I don’t know what to tell them.”

“That first crack you made would be hard to beat, General,” said Colonel Harper.

“What was that?”

“You said ‘Nuts!’”

“That’s it.”

McAuliffe wrote: “To the German commander: Nuts! From the American Commander.”                              

“Will you see that it’s delivered?” McAuliffe asked Harper.

“I will deliver it myself. It will be a lot of fun.”

“Don’t go into their lines,” McAuliffe warned.

Harper duly delivered the paper to the German delegation, who were under guard at the command post for F Company of the 327th Glider Regiment.

“I have the American commander’s reply,” said Harper.  

“Is it written or verbal?” asked one of the German officers.

“It is written. I will stick it in your hand.”
He did so.

“The answer is ‘Nuts!’”

The Germans were confused.  

“Is that reply negative or affirmative?” asked one of them. “If it is the latter, I will negotiate further.”

“If you don’t understand what ‘Nuts!’ means,” said Harper, “in plain English it is the same as ‘Go to hell!’ And I will tell you something else; if you continue to attack, we will kill every goddam German that tries to break into this city.”

“We will kill many Americans,” replied one of the Germans. “That is war.”  

“On your way,” replied Harper, “and good luck to you.”

The Germans walked back the way they had come.

Desperate days lay ahead. Hundreds of wounded Americans lay in agony in churches and make-shift aid stations in Bastogne, which would be savagely bombed. A photograph taken on Christ’s birthday shows a weary McAuliffe and his staff gathered around forlorn branches of evergreen that barely resembled a small Christmas tree. General Patton had promised that a relief force from the 4th Armored Division would arrive by Christmas Eve but the much-anticipated present from Old Blood and Guts had yet to show up.

The defenders of Bastogne were at the limit of their endurance, fast running out of hope. The mood was indeed grim. “You would have thought that the spirit of Christmas had vanished from the world,” recalled McAuliffe. “You could hear the rumble of the artillery, everywhere, incessantly. The dead were all around, frozen to grotesque shapes.”    

As the light began to fade the following day, 26 December 1944, Patton’s tankers finally broke through the German encirclement of Bastogne. McAuliffe was overjoyed. The relief of Bastogne was “a remarkable task to accomplish.” Patton wrote to his wife Beatrice that evening, describing it as “the most brilliant operation we have thus far performed … the outstanding achievement of this war.”

Patton was not known for his modesty but for once was on the mark. The defense of Bastogne, and the hard fighting by the 4th Armored Division’s tankers, would soon make headlines across the world. Many other divisions fought in the Ardennes but most stories centered on the Screaming Eagles and Patton’s Third Army. More than any others, these forces are to this day associated with the biggest land battle in US history, involving more than 500,000 Americans, described by Churchill as “undoubtedly the greatest American battle of the war…an ever-famous American victory.”

McAuliffe was promoted to Brigadier General and given command of the 103rd Infantry Division as the Battle of the Bulge drew to a close. He held many positions in the US Army after the war and was promoted to four-star general in 1955, passing away in 1975. Today he lies in peace at Arlington National Cemetery, forever remembered as the American commander who gave voice to the defiant heroism of citizen soldiers who refused to countenance defeat, let alone surrender: “Nuts!”