January 26, 1944
I hope to make this a “longie,” as I do feel one is due you. Before I get on with the details of last night, I have a few other items. I received the enclosed letter from the Benises. Need I tell you how it made me feel? Tears came suddenly and then I felt better. He is the one we got so chummy with while in Columbus. Her offer of a trip to Columbus this summer sounds interesting and if everything is alright, I hope to go. What do you say, sweet? I'm going to send off a letter to each family sometime this week.
In your letter of Jan. 8 (received yesterday), you asked my forgiveness for your reluctance to dance with me on so many occasions. Of course you're forgiven, and I'm glad youve taken a real interest in dancing. I love to dance, especially with you, my darling.
I particularly like the way you express yourself in Jack's letter in reference to your sex constancy. I can truthfully say “ditto.” Expressions such as those endear you to me, increasing, if at all possible, my deep and abiding love for you! You are inexpressibly tender, sweet, and thoughtful, dearest, and I doubt if there are many of your type and calibre.
Another thing of interest—I notice that Adele's third finger is a trifle larger than her forefinger. Quite the opposite for me—on one hand.
And now for last night. I wore my beige sailor dress, pink moonstones, brown shoes, fur coat, and a hat that Gloria gave me that matches the coat perfectly. Remember that brown fur-trimmed, off-the-face hat she bought to match her dress coat? She decided she didn't want it anymore, and since it matches my coat perfectly, I am using it. Jack said my hair looks swell; that it looked different. I wore it in a rather high pompadour, a bit over the forehead. The bottom was in a sort of page-boy effect. (Jack walked in about 1 P.M. as I was finishing my cleaning. I wasn't dressed or made up, yet he said that he thought I looked well.) He said later in the evening that I'm looking better than ever, so his judgment will have to serve in that connection. I was so happy to see him and gave him a royal welcome, hug, kiss and all. His comment: “Gosh, I wonder how you’d act if Phil walked in.” His presence for a little less than 24 hours made me keenly and acutely aware of my loneliness for you, baby. He never looked so well. The army has done wonders for him. He read your letter, plus a few of those you sent to me, and watched Adele intently. He thought her prettier than her pictures. Adele’s skin is exceptionally tender and it has a tendency to rash or redden at the slightest touch or kiss. We had dinner; then Milton Brown called. He was home on a 3-day pass and wanted to know if Harry and Goldie would join him and Sylvia for an evening of fun. It was a break for all of us, as he had the car. Sylvia had gone to a dinner at Jack Lynch’s and Milt had to pick her up at 9:30. He came here at 8 and we left it 9. In the meantime, my mom had promised to wash a batch of clothes for me and I had faithfully promised to hang them. So it was that at 8:30, my mom brought over the washed clothes to hang. Jack help us to hang the first large bunch. My mom was all for letting me go without hanging them, but I insisted and she relented. I only had time for the first bunch, which was the bulk of the wash and I felt better when I left knowing she wouldn't have to do it alone. We arrived at J.L.’s at precisely 9:30 and Sylvia was waiting. We had to rearrange ourselves in the car. Goldie sat on Harry's lap in the back, then Jack and me. However, Goldie wasn't able to stay that way, and I had to sit on Jack’s lap. Between Jack’s G.I. coat and my bulky fur coat, there was little room for comfort. I was relieved when we arrived at our destination—Neil Deighan’s, a nightclub in Camden. Sylvia had a funny look on her face when she saw me so friendly with Jack, and Goldie explained. It's a lovely place, but the floor show was “punk” with a capital “p.” We “girls” had orangeade, cheese and crackers, while the “boys” had 4 rounds of beers. I did quite a bit of dancing with Jack, very plain dancing this time. We did a lot of talking, too. I won't go into detail on that as I'd rather have Jack tell you anything he told me himself. He met a nice girl in New York (Adeline Shefrin) that he felt sure would be the “one” if he could pursue the right course. After his third date with her, upon arriving home, he got to thinking that his mom would not be there to see him if he did get married, and he claims he “broke down” and cried for at least 15 minutes. Two Louies at Jack's camp had an argument concerning his photography position and there is a strong possibility that he may be transferred. I’d better chop the subject before I tell you all and leave nothing for him.
We soon tired of N.D.’s and decided on a good place to eat. We wound up at Kelly’s Sea Food, where I had four fried oysters, french frieds, cole slaw, and (of all things), a “rock and rye.” I had made up my mind beforehand to try one drink and while I didn't particularly care for this going down, it left a delicious taste in my mouth the rest of the evening. We got home at 3 and Jack and I talked for about a half hour. As we talked, I felt myself filling up and overflowing. Before I realized what had happened, I was in tears on Jack's shoulder. He, too, confessed an overpowering loneliness for you at the time when he felt he wanted to pour forth his heart.
I neglected to mention that we visited the Anapolsky’s before going downtown. Harry is also in England. It was a nice evening, everything considered.
Today was a typical warm, sunny, spring day and I had Adele out in the walker. I'm wearing my peasant blouse, black skirt and red sweater. Adele woke Jack up and he played with her. We had breakfast and about 2 P.M. went to Lizzie’s. He has reservations for the 1:08 A.M. train this morning. I felt a sinking feeling as he disappeared from sight, knowing that it might be a long, long time before we meet again.
Betty is definitely working for post office at $35 per. I kinda miss her and she was in and out all day long.
I'm glad you like the way I looked on the four Mrs. Strongins snap. I thought I looked darn good. Was there another cut snap of me? You didn't say whether or not it was included. Harry and Goldie seemed to feel better at your acknowledgement. Harry plays the horses frequently, trying to make kill.
My mother has put my grandma back on her feet and I'm looking forward, once more, to the day when she will leave us again.
Jack tried to fix the typewriter—no dice. I'm going to have it repaired as soon as I get my next check. I tried to gift Jack with $5 cash, but he wouldn't accept it, saying he would spend it and wouldn't have anything to show for it. I'll get him a gift when I go shopping and send it off. Room enough, my darling Phil, to utter once more my praises and love for you. Pucker up, honey, cause here comes
with a kiss.
January 26, 1944
My own darling,
Last night I decided to go to the movie thinking that I would write when I got back. When I came back to the hut and came in out of the wet and the wind and the cold, I discovered that I was very sleepy and in no mood for anything but the sack, so I turned it in without further ado. And that's why you won't receive a letter from me dated the 25th Jan. I'm really sorry, Sweet, that it happened that way, but I assure you it bothers me when I fail to write—as much as it might bother you to go mail-less for a day. Today I was blue and moody and couldn't understand why until I realized that the reason for my discomfiture was the fact that I had failed to write last night. So, if I am unusually conscientious about writing from now on, you might, if you are inclined to be unkind about it, attribute it to the fact that I'm only looking out for my own peace of mind. But I trust you know better than that, Baby.
Yesterday afternoon I received yours of the 29th December together with Mom's letter. These must have been held up, for I have letters more than two weeks more recent. However, I was thankful for them, nevertheless. It was good to hear from Mom again. You may tell her that I'll write tomorrow if I can't manage it tonight.
I know you'll be glad to learn that I finally swung that pass for 5 Feb. for the purpose of meeting Eddie. Immediately upon getting Sgt. Murphy's O.K., I wrote to Eddie advising him of that fact and giving him detailed instructions for a rendezvous. Now, if he fares as well with his top-kick, we will at long last be meeting in London. I'm keeping my fingers crossed.
This afternoon I received your latest communique, your letter of 14 Jan. That's the one that enclosed the ad from Bonwit Teller’s. I think the outfits pictured are darn cute—and I wish you wouldn't be so cautious about buying some new things. Of course, if you feel you can’t afford it—and I have only a very hazy idea of your financial status at present—then there's nothing to be said. After all, you know better than I what you can afford. But, if I know you, and I think I do, you wouldn't spend a dollar unless you knew where the next two were coming from. You ask me whether or not you ought to buy some new things, knowing full well what my answer always has been and always will be—“Buy it!” You have a pretty good idea of what I consider becoming to you, and that goes for all items of clothing, so you needn't hesitate on that score. You hint about a red camel-hair coat and imply that it's a little too expensive, and I know darn well that you’d just love to have it. Well, then, if you can't bring yourself to buy it, why even mention it? I doubt if you realize it, but you don't do my morale or self-respect any good with your constant implications that you can afford this, that and the other thing. After all, it is my duty to you to keep you provided with all those things, and heretofore I have prided myself that I have done my duty in that respect, but your apparent lack of clothes only reflects on my status as “provider,” and you can't blame me too much if I suffer a loss of pride as a consequence. You know, Chippie, that I'm doing my best to send you all the money I possibly can. Don't be so unappreciative or unfeeling as to imply that it isn't enough—even if it isn't, and don't tease me with the thoughts of what you might have—if you only had the money. I think, though, from past performance on your part, Chippie, that your reluctance to spend doesn't spring so much from your incapacity to do so, as it does from your innate aversion to dispersing money that you would much rather save. To that—I can only repeat that well-known bromide “You can't eat your cake and have it too.” Inversely: “You can’t have your cake and eat it too.” I would say, in your case, that the latter is the more apt. I trust I have covered the subject sufficiently, Baby.
That “14 Jan.” method of writing dates is GI practice—I thought you knew.
As for the people who were hurt because I didn't send them a picture, just tell me who they are and I'll do my best to oblige. If it is possible for me to get that 8 x 10 for you, then you may rest assured, darling, that I will do so.
In reading over your letter, I find that I've neglected to take cognizance of your question about the hat—again (seems to me I ignored it once before—sorry, Honey). I would suggest that you take the piece of fur to a milliner and have him (or her) give you some idea of what he could do with it. If your original idea of an “off-the-face” still appealed more to you, you might inquire as to what might be done in that mode. Personally, I can't see the advantage of an off-the-face in this case, although I remember the style is most becoming to you—and the way you pile your hair in front—almost precludes any other. But it seems to me the effect of the matching fur will be almost entirely lost if you persist in the idea. I rather favor an off-center beret effect to get the most out of that piece of fur—but of course, I may be talking “through your hat,” and the idea may be without worth or practicality—in which case, I would suggest you consult the milliner about a “happy medium.” I just happened to remember how attractive that red beret was on you. I think if you could recapture the same effect with the fur, you would not only have an attractive hat—it would be different. I liked the “jauntiness” of it. The more I picture it, the better I like it—give it a try, will you, Chippie?
You certainly did a mean day’s work on the 14th, Honey-chile, and I wonder that you can accomplish so much in a day. Too, I suspect that you're “over-doing” it again. Have a care, Baby, that you don't force me to give you hell for it—and I will, if I hear one peep out of you about being “knocked out.”
Your guess that I would have a “pile of mail” awaiting me on my return from furlough, was entirely correct, as you probably know by now. (Think I'll ask for another furlough.)
I was busy all day today making copies of the men's “Immunization Records,” but it is a lot of work and I didn't get half through. This evening I went down to the Snack Bar with Klein, Moats and Oxborrow and had a cup o’coffee (but good) and a coupla of toasted cheese sandwiches (but delicious!) Almost forgot to tell you— yesterday, at dinner we had—(you'll never guess!) chocolate ice cream! Need I say more? No! Well, I will! In the evening, on the way to the movies, we stopped at the Snack Bar and had—that's right!—chocolate ice cream. Lady, it was so good and so rare a treaat that I actually hated to eat it and have it disappear.
Well, Baby mine, anything I might say now would be in the nature of an anti-climax. (after all, what is more exciting than good ole chocolate ice cream?) all right—all right, don't tell me—I know! I meant, or I should have said, under the present circumstances, what is more exciting than—etc.
Now that I have us both thinking along those intriguing lines, I think it's time to quit. (I’d hate to be diverted from this particular train of thought.) Don't wake me up—let me dream— Goodnight, Baby, I love you. My love to our Adele—and all our folk.
P.S. Bet I dream I’m “home” tonight.
January 26, 1944
Just received a delayed letter from you. It was dated September 1, 1943, and decided to answer you without waiting for your answer to my last letter. I recently was assigned to a new job as a warehouseman and like it very much. There’s very little physical labor to it, but it's a very responsible job and I have to do a great deal of figuring. The job rates a T-5 and I expect the rating to be coming very shortly. Yes, big brother, I'll be right up there with you. When we were down in Brisbane, we used to take time out for tea also, for the Aussies were originally English. I'm improving greatly with my sketching and will be very happy to receive the set of oil paints that Gloria sent to me. I hope that in my spare time, I'll be able to practice oil painting so that I may be good enough to paint Gloria and each member of our growing family. Gloria certainly keeps my morale sky high. I receive mail from her very regularly. I made a Valentine with my original poem on it and sent it off to her. I get a letter from Ev every now and then and she writes me all the news on the home front for which I am very grateful. Our outfit is getting to be more like a garrison camp every day. Why, just today we were told to fall out for reveille every morning, bright and early. I hear that Al Chase is 1-A (1 alright) in the Army. Gosh, Phil, somehow I just can't picture him in a G.I. zoot suit. I guess you have heard of the new ruling concerning soldiers in a diseased area, so I won't take up space telling you about it. That yellow blotch you see above is insecticide from a bomb spray. A few bugs (Guinea is about the most bug-infested land on earth, and believe me, they drive one bugs) were bothering me and I had to bomb them out. Well, so long big brother, hope to hear from you very soon.