It’s hard to imagine that one of the bloodiest battles of World War II would produce the most vivid Christmas memories, but for two Macon natives who fought at the Battle of the Bulge, that proved to be the case.

For Everett Drinnon and David Becker, two Lanier High School graduates who found themselves in the midst of Germany’s final major offensive of the war, Christmas 1944 offered a moment of peace on Earth, goodwill toward men.

Drinnon was serving with Company A, 303rd Engineering Battalion in support of the Army’s 78th Infantry Division, better known as the Lightning Division. The two armies were fighting in an area near Schwammenauel Dam.

As a carpenter, Drinnon did everything from removing trees to deactivating land mines and booby traps.

“I was working out of a foxhole” on Christmas Eve, said Drinnon, now 86, who retired from working as a plate maker for The Telegraph in 1989. “We were up at the front, right behind the infantry guys.

“All of a sudden, (the Germans) started serenading us with Christmas carols. There was ‘Silent Night’ and a lot of others. Of course, a lot of (carols) are German songs anyway. I couldn’t understand what they were saying, but I recognized the tunes.”

Drinnon said the brief, unofficial truce lasted all of Christmas, with neither side firing off a shot.

“They ceased firing their mortars at us,” Drinnon said. “We couldn’t believe it was happening after what we had been through. ... Once Christmas was over, they just picked up right where they left off.”

Drinnon chuckled at that memory: “They didn’t sing to us anymore.”

Becker, also 86 and a classmate of Drinnon’s at Lanier, was a mortar operator with the 75th Infantry Division, fighting in the Ardennes forests in Belgium. Late at night on Christmas Eve, Becker was standing guard where the unit’s explosives were stored.

His commanding officer told him that everyone who was supposed to be in the area was there, and that anyone else who showed up was the enemy. The captain told Becker to shoot first and issue his challenge second.

About midnight in weather of minus-12 degrees, Becker heard a twig snap and some rustling in the woods.

“It was so dark, and I knew no one was supposed to be there,” Becker said. “I had a pistol, a .45, with me, but I couldn’t hit anything with it. ... I was scared blue. I was shivering from the cold and shaking in fear. I didn’t know what to do.”

Becker said if he decided to fire and German soldiers were there, they would hurl a grenade in his direction, blowing up all of the ammunition he was guarding. Becker said the challenge word was “hornet,” to which the approaching party would respond “sting.” The challenges were necessary, Becker said, because the Germans had become adept in training their soldiers in English in order to infiltrate the American lines.

Becker said the noise came from a group of American GIs who had gotten separated from their unit during a battle and had been wandering for miles. Because they were from a separate unit, they didn’t know the response when Becker shouted “hornet” at them.

One of the soldiers called out to Becker to ask them a question. Becker shouted back, “Who is Joltin’ Joe?” and everyone called back in unison “DiMaggio!”

“I knew we were fine then,” said Becker, who is president of Union Furniture Co. on Third Street. “It’s my strongest Christmas memory. If I had fired, I wouldn’t have had to think about it very long, because it would have been my last Christmas.”

Other memories

Other readers shared a variety of Christmas memories after The Telegraph asked for remembrances:

“One of the most special times I can remember is Christmas in the mid-’80s when my husband bought his first video camera. It was a two-piece Canon. They had first debuted, were bulky and he paid too much ... around $2,500. I wondered if he had robbed a bank or else was just plain crazy. Me? I was clueless about technology and still am; however, this camera brought us much joy and fond memories. My mother was still on Earth, and we captured something as simple as decorating the tree of our little Macon cottage. Mama laughed when a vintage ornament nearly dropped out of my hands and onto the floor before my husband caught it. I have always been a bit clumsy! We videoed our four-legged children and anyone who would stand still. Now all we need is an operable videotape player, so we can reminisce over times that, for sure, live on in my mind.”

-- Alice Babb, Eatonton

“My father died Dec. 23, 1963, in Marietta. It was during the time of a rare snowstorm in Cobb County, and because of the snow and ice on the road, the civil defense had to take us all to my parent’s house. My husband, 2-year-old son and myself lived in Athens at the time, but were in Marietta for the last few days of my father’s illness. All of the presents for our son were in Athens, but because of the road conditions we could not get back there for Christmas, and our financial position did not give us the luxury of buying more presents for him to have under the tree. Then a friend of my brother contacted the Toys for Tots (USMC sponsored), and through them, my son was blessed with presents delivered by Santa Claus. He came up to the house, with lots and lots of “ho, ho, ho’s,” bells ringing, etc., left a sack of toys at the back door, and then went on his way before my son was able to see him. The toys had been recycled, but they provided my family with one of our best Christmas memories.”

-- Margarett Coleman, Macon

“In 1950 at our home in Tennille, our family doctor told my 3-year-old sister and myself (age 6) that we would be getting the best Christmas present ever. Wow! We knew that we would be getting that horse we always wanted. I would be Dale Evans and my sister would be Annie Oakley. We selected the spot in our backyard where the pen would be placed for that wonderful present. However, on Christmas Day, a little baby brother appeared on the scene instead of the horse. Now, 60 years later, I still hug my brother Allen Joseph Gibson and proclaim that he is better than a horse any day.”

-- Jeannette Caneega, Wrightsville

“Christmas, 1950, on the annual visit to Santa, I told him all I wanted for Christmas was paper dolls. He asked me what kind and I said movie star. Christmas morning, I hopped out of bed making a beeline for the Christmas tree and the imagined books of paper dolls. Much to my disappointment, all I had was a baby doll and all the things that went with it as well as my stocking with oranges and candy canes. No paper dolls. Not even in a wrapped gift. I began looking through drawers, in cabinets, anywhere something could be hidden, sure that my paper dolls were bought but my parents forgot to wrap them for me. No paper dolls anywhere. I was so upset I started to cry. My momma -- forever the tender heart -- asked me what was wrong. I told her all I wanted for Christmas was paper dolls. She said why didn’t you tell me. I said I told Santa Claus. And to my little kid mind that was all I had to do.”

-- Carole Liles Propst, Centerville

“I’m not so sure this would be a favorite memory, but it has always been one that sticks in my mind. I was in Firebase Stewart III in South Vietnam on Christmas night 1968, a long way from home and my family. Three of my friends from the neighborhood were over there at the same time. I watched as red, green and white flares were shot into the sky and thought how pretty they looked in the nighttime sky. No tree, no presents or anything like that. Just a group of soldiers looking at the flares and saying Merry Christmas to a buddy. I look back today and really see how special it was and what Christmas really means. God bless our troops.”

-- Jimmy Barbee, Macon

To contact writer Phillip Ramati, call 744-4334.