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January 2nd, Cliff Hope

The next day brought excitement of a different sort. In the evening we moved east to Wideumont Gare and into a house filled with Belgian refugees. Never one to go to bed as long as anyone else was up, I went to the basement to get hot water from the stove.

The room, dimly lighted, was full of civilians whom I could barely see. In a friendly manner, someone asked me to sit down on the floor. Just as I did, a beautiful feminine voice across the room exclaimed, "Oh, my aching back!" Thus did I meet Christine, the very pretty 19-year-old niece of the owners of the house. Christine, from Arlon, was trapped in Wideumont during the high tide of the German advance at Christmastime while she was visiting her aunt and uncle. Not only was she pretty but she was also a nice girl, by my mother's standards, and the kind with whom I could, and did, immediately fall in love.

Much to my consternation, and no doubt to her amusement, she became the sweetheart of almost everyone in my age bracket in the outfit, including Marvin Elting of the medics and my good buddy Bruno. That first night was the height of my romance with Christine, I suppose. The family brought out good coffee and bread and jam. I distributed cigarettes, chocolate, and anything else I had to give in return.

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