Aldenhoven and the Arc de Triomphe

In le Grande city of Paris, on le Arc de Triomphe, at the end of Champs-Elysees,  there is the name of a German town listed among others as having been taken by the French in more glorious days.
The name of that town is Aldenhoven, where I humbly abide.

Here is Aldenhoven, that's right, Aldenhoven, inscribed on the Arc de Triomphe, at the end of Champs-Elysees:

What th' heck? Sorry, them's the Golden Arches on Bee Cave Road in Paris, Texas. Let me try again:

Nein! Those are the the Golden Arches in Aldenhoven. Though they could also be considered Arches of Triumph to some folks. One more time:

Oui, that is it; that is Aldenhoven, on the left, inscribed on the Arc de Triomphe, which is gray, and not golden-- for in October of 1794, the French and Austrian armies clashed around Aldenhoven, and the French emerged victorious.
Yet, if there were also an Arc des Debacles-- and there could be a very large one of those-- Aldenhoven would also be inscribed there, as the year before the victory, the French had been ignominiously defeated in the very same place.

The reader may have noticed that I am putting Aldenhoven in bold print. That is because I have never lived in a town that is on the Arc de Triomphe, and I am very proud to live in a town that is listed on the Arc de Triomphe. Once again, the name of that town is Aldenhoven, where I live.
The reader may also have noticed the French words in italics, and that is because I think French words look good in italics.

For example, here is a conversation that might occur in Paris, near the Arc de Triomphe-- note the effect of the French words in italics, and see if you don't agree with me:

Tourist from Paris, Texas: Well, hey there, you think you could tell me where there's a MacDonalds around?

Parisian: Qu'est-ce que vous essayez de dire?

Texan: A MacDonalds... Mac...Donalds? You know where?

Parisian: Je n'ai vraiment aucune idée de ce que vous essayez de dire.

Texan: Well ain't that just rude? I don't know what the hell yor sayin, but I know you know what I'm sayin. Mac...Donalds. Where?

Parisian: S'il vous plaît se faire foutre et laissez-moi tranquille.

Texan: Speak English you French foreigner! We saved y'alls asses a couple of times and this is how you thank us? You just come on over to Paris Texas and see if I help you out when yor lost and lookin for a MacDonalds!

Parisian: Je préfère vivre à Londres qu'à visiter l'endroit que tu sois conçu dans. Et je vais manger de la merde avant d'aller au McDonalds. 'av ze nice day!

Texan: Commie French foreigner!


You see? Doesn't French look good in italics?

So, Aldenhoven, that's right, Aldenhoven, on the world famous Arc de Triomphe.

More recently, of course, about a lifetime ago, Aldenhoven was captured by the US Army. It was bombed first, though, by the Royal Air Force, on the morning of November 16th, 1944. According to "29 Let's Go!", a small booklet covering the history of the 29th Infantry Division:

"This was the big push through the Siegfried Line aimed at the Roer River and Julich, last barriers before the Cologne Plain. Ninth Army had waited days for the attack. Dark, rainy skies had grounded air support. Now, the sky was clear and Aldenhoven and Julich were being saturated with bombs."
(lonesentry.com, History of the 29th Infantry Division)

Hmmm... Saturated with bombs...

From what I can gather, much of the civilian population had been evacuated from places like Jülich and Aldenhoven, for while the Allies were unaware of the difficulties they would face in reaching the Rur River, the Germans knew very well that there was going to be a tough battle.  The German army had been instructed to hold the line, to coordinate with the upcoming counter-offensive which later became known as the Battle of the Bulge.
However, for those civilians who remained in Aldenhoven, they were soon to be saturated with bombs. 

I can't help but think that, despite the ubiquitous news these days of single explosions rocking this embassy or that sporting event-- or towers being toppled-- I can't help but think that perhaps the world is becoming a wee bit more civilized, as there is generally shock-- paralysis even-- at the news of such single explosions. Or, at least, there is shock if Westerners are the victims. But in 1944, a day's saturation bombing was a routine affair-- all in a day's work.

But now to the porch for the first cigarette of the day.

Ten minutes later... A sign! A sign! As I smoked, two doves, not pigeons, but white, cooing doves, flying eastbound! In the direction of the Middle East! There will be peace in the Middle East!
Or perhaps it simply means peace in Jülich, 7 kilometers to the east from here. 

This is still very good news though, considering the autumn of 1944.

But now I must prepare to prepare French toast, or pain perdu as it would be called if you were eating it in the vicinity of the Arc de Triomphe at the end of Champs-Elysees, which has the town Aldenhoven listed on it as being one of many French victories-- as if the record had been 1-0, regarding Aldenhoven, when in fact, because of the defeat there the previous year, the record is 1-1. Nevertheless, the toast is referred to as 'French' and not 'Austrian', and it will be saturated with butter and maple syrup.
Right here in Aldenhoven.