It was 5:30 AM, Saturday, December 16 1944. All along an 85 mile front of the Ardennes Forest in southern Belgium, young, inexperienced, and worn out soldiers of six United States divisions were enjoying a good night sleep in a quiet sector known only as, “The Ghost Front”

Directly across the border in Germany, massed together in the thickly wooded hills of the Eifel, were 25 refitted, refurbished, and retrained German divisions straining to be unleashed against the unsuspecting Americans. These divisions were divided into three German Armies: the Sixth S.S. Panzer, the Fifth Panzer, and the Seventh Infantry. The Sixth was positioned in the northern sector, the Seventh was positioned in the southern sector, while the Fifth was situated right between them in the center.

All told, it was a combined military force of 286,000 men, supported by 1,900 artillery pieces, mortars, and rockets, and augmented by 970 medium, and heavy tanks, tank destroyers, and armored assault guns.

The audacious German battle plan was to strike right through the Ardennes Forest just the way in which they had done in the spring of 1940, cross the Meuse River in just four days time, and capture Liege, the second largest Allied supply depot on the continent. Then, after replenishing their forces, the German armies were to n drive northward capturing Brussels and more importantly, the critical Belgian port city of Antwerp, which was the single largest Allied supply depot on the continent.

If successful, the entire Allied Expeditionary Force would be cut in two with absolutely no hope whatsoever of resupply. This would then force the Western Allies into a separate negotiated peace settlement; thus, allowing Germany to turn her entire attention to fending off the massive Soviet Armies on the Eastern Front which were poised to strike clear across Poland within a matter of a few weeks.

At precisely 5:30Am, the entire Ardennes sector, which had been previously tranquil and quiet for more than three months, erupted in an earth shattering roar brought on by thousands of German guns. Everything that could be fired, was. From the smallest mortar, to huge 14 inch railway guns, and everything in between; shells of every shape and size screamed toward United States’ positions.

Stunned and shaken American soldiers leapt from their sleeping bags, grabbed their rifles and raced toward their foxholes. Others hid in their respective dugouts and cupped their ears in a futile attempt to ward off the deafenning sound. In the central sector, a communications officer radioed his command post to say that thousands of German shells were landing all around his position. Incredibly, he was told that he must be mistaken, because Military Intel had only two German horse drawn artillery pieces opposite his sector. The officer then slammed the receiver down, exclaiming; “They must be working those two poor horses to death!”