Sunday, 31 December-Cliff Hope

New Year's Eve and we were geographically in almost the same place we had been on December 20. The difference was that we were advancing, not retreating. The VIII Corps offensive was progressing. Rochefort, at the tip of the German salient, was recaptured by American Third Army troops. A day of survey took us from the Recogne road junction to within five kilometers of St. Hubert. That night we moved into a schoolhouse in Libramont. There was a stove but as usual, no lights. Libramont had been bombed often in the past week or so. The old year ended, not with a bang but a whimper in my diary: "My feet are finally beginning to feel the effects of prolonged cold. My toes hurt whenever my feet warm up. Quite a New Year's Eve. Dead tired and no cognac. I should think of something more worthwhile to say, but am too exhausted to do much more than stare stupidly into the gasoline lamp on the table before me."
Our battalion was luckier than most. Since landing in France in mid-August, we had suffered three killed and nine missing in action, a low casualty rate statistically. But that was little comfort to those men and their families.

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