March 8, 1944

At night, a couple of men take me to a farm where I spend a week with a young couple with a young son. It’s off the beaten path. The house is beyond some tall hedges and fairly far in from the road. I spend a lot of time playing soccer with their young son. I learn a little French.

I’m alert. The Germans are probably still on the prowl looking for me. The young mother makes a shirt for me out of the parachute material. I’m given a beret. I look rather French in my outfit actually.

The couple is risking their necks to keep me safe. It’s fairly cold winter but I’m used to it – West Virginia could be frigid.

c. GCYI