Dear Abby: I was a demolition specialist in the 99th Division that held the northern shoulder in the Battle of the Bulge.

Around Jan. 20, 1945, our supply lines had been re-established, and we were on the offensive again. The next village had been taken, and I was clearing the road of mines so our tanks could move up, when shells began to fall nearby. I took refuge in a bombed-out building, where I found a New Testament opened to Psalms 20. There were two bloody thumbprints on the pages. Evidently, the soldier had been reading the Bible when the medics picked him up.An inscription in front says, "From the Young People of Cyclone Union Church." Abby, I have tried for years to find a community called Cyclone, but have been unsuccessful. If anyone reading this knows of a Cyclone Union Church that existed in the '40s, please contact me. Someday, whether here on earth or in heaven, I will meet that veteran and return this Bible to him.

- E.G. Jackson, Houston

Dear E.G. Jackson: There is a Cyclone, Pa. I found it in my trusty Rand McNally World Atlas. If any reader sends me information, I'll pass it on to you.

Dear Abby: I just read your column about blood donors, and I had to write.

In July of 1993, my husband was dying of cancer. He told his doctor that he wanted to see his children (ages 7 and 2) play at the beach one last time, and my parents, who live on Martha's Vineyard, wanted to see their son-in-law once more. My husband was bleeding internally at that point, and could hemorrhage at any time. He was admitted to the hospital and given four units of blood over the next two days.

Thanks to the generosity of four strangers, my family made that last trip to the beach. Ten days after we came home, my husband lost his five-month battle with cancer of the pancreas. He died one month before our 10th anniversary. He was only 42.

Our children still remember their last vacation with their dad. If you use this letter, please don't use my name.

- A Widow Too Soon

Dear Widow: Please accept my condolences on the loss of your beloved husband. Your letter is further testimony to the good accomplished by blood donors. In your husband's case, it bought precious time for him and your family. Bless you and your children, and thank you for sharing your experience.

Dear Abby: Why don't you - and some of your readers - get off our necks for smoking?

Why don't you stick it to drunk drivers, drug pushers and child molesters?

I know you won't print this, but if you do, I am sure you would find a lot of people who agree with me.

- No Name, No Town

Dear No Name: You must be a new reader: I have been "sticking it" to drunk drivers, drug pushers and child molesters since I started to write this column in 1956.

Dear Abby: My son and his wife sent a box of fruit to me for Christmas. It contained pears that looked pretty good on the outside, but were mushy and rotten on the inside.

I am in a quandary as to whether to tell them the truth or not. They might be hurt, or think I was being overly critical, but believe me, this fruit was not fit to eat - so we threw it all out.

We hate to tell them they spent good money for nothing. Please advise us.

- M.K., Tucson, Ariz.

Dear M.K.: Tell them the truth - you will be doing them a favor.

They can then notify the people from whom they ordered the fruit, who will also appreciate being informed and will undoubtedly replace it with fresh, edible pears. Trust me.

Dear Readers: Who said, "The White House is the finest jail in the world"?

Surprise, surprise: Harry S. Truman!