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At least twice a year throughout the war, and four times whenever feasible, I boarded the State of Maine Express in New York, bound for Wells Junction, Main. The train rumbled in there at five o'click in the morning. It felt like disembarking in the middle of the night, especially in the darkness and cold of a New England winter. A company car would be waiting at the rustic station to take me through the pine forests to Sanford, a charming little mill town nestle in the hills about 50 miles southwest of Portland. Since there was no hotel, I signed in at Mrs. Allen's boarding house