June 12, 1941
It seems hard to believe it. Here it is Thursday. This week has passed very quickly. So did my nylons. I bent down to pick up the mail at the office and they ran in every direction. Looks very much as if I'm going to be nearly broke this weekend. I'll be glad to give you anything that you need tho’. I'll probably have about $2 left. As it was rather slow at the office today, I took advantage of the opportunity and sent Jack Nerenberg a six-page letter. I also called my Mom. She promised to get me the gold wristwatch today as she's going to the bank. When I get it I'll have to have the link band repaired. At the same time I'll have your watch repaired, too. Our Harry just informed me that someone called (F.H.A. I think) and asked him numerous questions. They had all the answers, but wanted them ascertained. In case it slipped your mind, let me remind you that we were married 12 weeks ago tonight. (I'm listening to the song Reveille to Taps or rather Taps to Reveille).
I miss you, baby. Just for good measure I'll add a few more words. Love and regards from all. Yes even from,
P.S. Keep up the good work. Those daily letters are really appreciated by all.
June 12, 1941
Ev, My Dearest,
It did my heart good when I received your long letter today. I always look first to see how many pages are covered. Your message came at a very opportune moment as I shall explain. This morning—No—let me tell you about last night first. As you know there was a dance for the second battalion. Sam and I were walking in the vicinity of the dance hall minding our own business when a fellow came along and gave Sam a pass. I browsed around looking at the shop windows while Sam went into the dance hall to see what was doing. About five minutes later he came dashing back waving a ticket at me. I still don't know exactly where or how he got it. No kiddin’, Ev, it was swell just to sit and watch the transformation that took place in that hall. The fellas that I knew only as a swearing, hell-raising, usually dirty lot, were, in the space of a few hours, clean-cut, mannerly, soft-spoken gentleman. And how they loved it! I felt all warm inside when I observed the look of almost beatific contentment on the mugs of the boys as they took the all-to-willing girls in their arms to dance. I just sat in the balcony for two hours and fairly basked in the reflected happiness that seemed to radiate from the dance floor. The orchestra was made up of soldiers—and they were good. The great majority of the dances were jitterbugs, and the band was plenty hot. Result, a jumpin’ joint, and meat on the table for little Philly (ain't I cute?)
I turned in about 10 and awoke (or to be more explicit, was awakened) at 4:30. The weather wasn't conducive to pleasant thoughts, it was raining and rather cold. Nevertheless, at 6 o'clock we marched off to the range about a mile away. By the time we got there, we were thoroughly drenched. Even this didn't deter the powers-that-be from going through with the scheduled firing. So we stood in the rain and waited our turn. Finally, about 9 o'clock, the rifles were so wet, and conditions were generally so miserable that even those in charge had enough, so we went back to barracks, and I still didn't complete my firing. Once inside, we proceeded to take a warm shower, change into dry clothing and hang up our wet things. Then we tended to our rifles, shoes, leggings, etc. By this time, it was 11:30 and time for mess. I preferred to sleep. When I awoke it was 12:45 and we were taken to the mess-hall for instruction, which brought us up to supper time. Tonight, since I'm all cleaned up, I'm going to the movies with Sam. The picture is “This Thing called love,” and for the life of me I can't remember whether or not I saw it. I'll find out. Glad to hear you enjoy “So ends our night.” FLASH! I just got back from the supply room where I drew my regimental buttons. You'll see see ‘em Saturday, sweet, when I expect to see you. Got to sign off now if I want to make the movie. I love you, too, baby. Love to all.
P.S. On reading back, I find I neglected to tell you about the “opportune moment.” I'll explain when I see you, sweet.