Thursday, May 27, 2021

Post #345 - April 18, 1944 Dr. Gayl’s House is Being Converted to a Synagogue, of All Things and We have Moved to Another Station Here in England


April 18, 2014 

Phil, darling, 

I'm reading an excellent book and have to force myself to put it down. It is even more absorbing than the movie picture version. The book, "King's Row" belongs to Betty and I borrowed it last night. I'm more than half through it already! When I got to the part where Parris and his childhood sweetheart Rene go to their "secret lake", undress as they have always been accustomed to doing, intending to take a swim, but something “got” them and before they knew It they had possessed each other (both virgins hitherto), she only 15, he 18. I got an odd and unprecedented surge of memory, remembering vividly a somewhat similar night on Chestnut Street. I wished very much that you were here, for It put me in a similar mood. That book is really sumpin' and I don't mean maybe. I've always wanted to read it and am glad Betty owns It. 

I saw Dot and the baby unexpectedly this afternoon. She was visiting her Aunt, who has a beauty parlor at 4924 N. 5th St., and called me shortly after her arrival. She had her hair done and looked very well. I had intended going out to Dottie’s tomorrow evening for the wool, thinking my mother would wash tonight and would need my help. However, she is not going to wash this evening, so I think I'll make tho trip tonight. Sure do wish you were going along, sweet! 


Adele had a very restful night and didn't wake up at all. After giving me such a hectic time the previous night she probably thought it over and decided It would be better to sleep ( I hope). I told you yesterday that she was too attached to her milk-drinking and hasn't been eating at all. I got her away from the milk alright and she is eating well, but now she doesn’t want much "wow-wow". Babies is the craziest people!

The weather has improved and while it is still quite chilly It's a lot better than rain. The lawns and shrubbery are blooming - a definite sign that spring is here. I don't think there will be anyone to trim the lawns this year. Moses is in the Army. 

I must hurry If I'm to get out to Dot’s early so you'll have to excuse me if I seem to cut this short. I might mention that Dr. Gayl's house is being converted to a synagogue, of all things. 

I love you, baby, and am keeping that date at 5 faithfully. wish I could bestow the enclosed kiss personally, but since that can not be you will have to accept It as is, plus a warm caress from 

Your Eve 

18 April 1944 

Darling Chippie, 

It is now permitted me to tell you that we have moved to another station here in England. Other than that, I can tell you nothing. I might add that the space is much the same as the one we left, except that it is much larger. We are close to a few fairly large towns, one of which I hope to visit tonight on the Liberty Run. The Liberty Run, since you say you have no idea of what the term means (I thought it was fairly obvious) is a convoy of trucks that takes the fellows into town of an evening and brings them back to Camp a few hours later. 

Before I go any further, Sweet, I think I’d better tell you why I didn't write last night. The simple truth—it took me all night to read and reread your voluminous mail, which came through in a bunch as follows: 31 Mar—1-2-3-4-?-6-7-8-9-Apr.16-17-21-25-26 Mar.!! All of these are typewritten, and most of them are four pages long; so you see, Chippie, you are a victim of your own munificence. If you hadn't written so much and so often, I would probably have found time to write last night. It may be some small compensation to you to know that I was very happy reading all that mail. You haven't lost that knack of writing exactly as you speak, Baby, and I had the sensation of listening to your voice, talking to me; telling me all the latest news, the doings of the punkin, etc., etc. Almost forgot to tell you that there was also a letter from Jack N., in which he tells me how happy he and Lenny were for three whole days during which they ate, slept and dined together, and some of the other things they did for amusement. He was all thrilled to pieces by this sudden arrival and visit of Lenny’s (literally dropped from the sky), but you probably know more about it by now. He, (Jack) answered my letter within the hour of receiving it, so I reciprocated by sending off four of these sheets in like manner. I mentioned your suggestion of a (Jack, Lenny, Phil) alliance just to get his reaction. You wanted to know what I thought of the idea, Sweet, so I'll try to oblige. It may not have occured to you that aside from the financial angle, I have very little to contribute to such a partnership. My knowledge of photography is confined to the bare fundamentals and unless we are able to start off on a big scale, they will have very little need of an “inside man.” If I had some experience of selling in this line, I might serve a purpose—but I haven't, so, all boiled down, I will be little more use to the “firm” than an apprentice at the trade. That wouldn't be fair to Jack or Lenny, who will do the bulk of the work only to divide the profits with a third party, whose intrinsic value is about the $15.00 a week you might have to pay any apprentice. Still, there are other things to consider that might make the deal plausible, but which I won't go into at this time. It may surprise you to know, Chippie, that I had given the proposition much thought before you ever mentioned it—and the more I think about it—the better I like it. Let’s hope it will all happen someday. 

We are comfortably settled here at our new base, and I think I'm going to like it here; especially when the warmer weather comes ’round, 'cause we are situated on fairly high ground and the country hereabouts is most attractive. I'll try to describe some of it from time to time. It might help if you would let me know what you were interested in or curious about. 

There is very little news to impart at this time, Chippie, since my routine is much the same. Red says to send the shirt, khaki ties, and khaki caps as is, unless they are very dirty, in which case you might have them cleaned. We are bunk mates again. Klein surprised me just now by telling me he had made a foot-locker for me. He even took the trouble to paint it! Klein’s a good kid and I like him, in spite of his wildness. He's constantly getting into hot water, but somehow manages to emerge invariably with a whole skin. He isn't nearly as “thick” as he pretends to be, either, he's just clever enough to give that impression. He knows some of the “Vyse Ave. gang” in New York—something I learned only a few weeks ago. He's only 19 years old, but has had more adventures (and misadventures) than the average guy three times his age. Some of his stories are downright fascinating, and I've played around with the idea of writing a book based on his few but hectic years. Klein is a willing speaker an I am his best audience and a most patient listener, so I know his history almost in its entirety. Maybe, someday when I have time on my hands—. 

I’ve more or less subconsciously refrained from answering your stack of letters, which I have laying at my elbow. I glance at the pile occasionally as I write, knowing I should do something about them, but it's so imposing a stack that I instinctively shrink from the task. Up ’til now, I've been idly wondering what the hell to do about them, and probing the back of my mind for the means to dispose of them in some way that wouldn't entail too much brain cudgeling on my part. Truly, Sweet, there is enough material in that pile to furnish the inspiration for a score of letters—but where would I find the time to write them? So—I'll do the next best thing—I'll answer the questions that have to be answered and skip the comments (as far as I am able). The following sentences will be each an answer to a question you have put. If they don’t “hang together,” you'll understand why. 

No, Sweet, I don't blame you for driving in the “next shoe buying spree” for the punkin—not if you have to knock yourself out so completely in the process. How often do you have to go through all that? If Ed's mail gets home in five days, maybe mine will, too, from this base. That “baby jewelry” of your mother’s should look very nice on Adele. Be very sure she can't pull the ring off. If you get a chain for the locket, I think it would be a good idea to run it through a safety pin attached on or under the back of her collar so that she won't be able to remove it. The chocolates reached me in good shape (don't let that deter you). Please, Chippie, stop worrying about what's liable to happen to me in London. There really is no cause for concern. I wish I knew what to tell you to reassure you. I don't “overlook” anything you write dear, it's just that you don't make yourself sufficiently clear at times. I knew that Gloria gave you a hat that would go well with your fur coat, and I knew you only had enough to trim a hat, but what has all this got to do with my suggestions as to how to use the fur for another hat? Or are two hats so unheard of? When I asked when Goldie’s newcomer was expected, I was aware that you had already told me, but you mustn't be too critical of my inability to remember—not everyone has your talent for that sort of thing. When I said that I didn't understand your assertion that “we need to furnish a house,” I forgot to take your proclivities and inclinations for “long-range planning” into consideration. That's a perfect example of how differently we think about such things—surprised? I always think of such things in the connection that we must have them now, or we don't need them now. You, on the other hand, think that if we ought to have them now—or someday, that we need them. I can readily understand why you I understand why you were so shocked and indignant at my attitude in this respect. After all, how could you appreciate that I was preoccupied solely with the present “needs,” while you are so engrossed in future or “all-time” needs? Anything I have is Jack N’s for the asking—if I can possibly spare it without depriving my family. You should know that without asking. C-O-M-P-O-B-O-A-R-D—right! Yes, dearest one, “everything new and modern for the next one—how will you have it, male or female? I sent no “snap” of any fellow. The one you have was probably stuck in with my letter by the censor by mistake. Please send it back to me. No, I've never seen a O-u-i-j-a Board, but I know what it is. Ask Harry or Mom about the “Ouija board” predictions, we got out of a plain wooden table. You’re getting absent-minded, Sweet; I received two unsigned letters from you within as many weeks. That last day of March was certainly a bad one for you, Ev, and I don't wonder, you were disgusted. Please curb the “rough-housing” tendencies of the boys when they play with the punkin. Next time we may not be so lucky. If, God forbid, she is ever hurt badly, I would find it very hard to forgive you. One expects cuts and bruises from time to time where a baby is concerned—it is unavoidable, but I am in a constant fret lest she come to some great harm. I'm trying to reassure myself that you are taking every precaution in this direction and I'd appreciate it if you would confirm this. Yes, I did say I see you in ’44—what's more, I still believe it! I know what I’d do when the punkin refuses to eat, but I'm sure you know much more about the subject than I—and I wouldn't want to prejudice you by telling you what I would do. I don't know why it bothers you so—if it doesn't her. I figure she'll eat without coaxing if she's really hungry. If she isn't, why feed her? To hell with “what people say!” There! I told you anyhow. What is this? Are you getting bashful—or what? This letter (31, 1, 2) is concluded: “with a big hug and kiss from   ”?? Now I remember—you did give those things to Pete, didn't you? Forget it—I'll get along with what I have. Forgive me if I seemed to forget to mention your birthday on your birthday. You see, I tried to time my birthday greeting to reach you on your birthday. Can I help it if the PO isn't dependable? Wish you wouldn't make such a fuss over that alleged “poetry” I write from time to time. Some day you are apt to show it to a party that's “hep”—and you'll learn what I already know—that it's corny and almost entirely devoid of merit. I hate to see you disillusioned and embarrassed on this account—therefore my request (remember?) that you keep these things to yourself. They are written for your edification and for no other reason. If you are undiscriminating or prejudiced enough to like them, then they have served their purpose and I am content with the fruits of my labor. Betty and those other “admirers” of my little effort don't know a helluva lot about poetry if they thought that was good, and I hope you aren't naive to the extent that you foresaw any other reaction on their part. Naturally, rather than hurt you in the least by deprecating it, they'll go to the other extreme, and praise it to the skies so that you will be that much prouder of “your Phil.” Learn to judge things for yourself, Sweet, 'cause others will only tell you, if they like you—(and who doesn't)—what they think you would be pleased to hear. Sorry I can't oblige by saying “okay, go to work.” You must be cognizant of my opinion in the matter by now. I certainly wrote plenty about it in the past few weeks. However, if you think I'm not justified in my stand, I'd like to know why you think so. If you think you can convince me that you are right, and I wrong—go ahead, I'm listening. On the 4th April you start off by saying it just struck me that I could tell you more about the “briss.” Whereupon, you promptly proceed to inform me that you wore your gray suit, white blouse, etc. and that everyone wanted to know where you got the new beaver coat. Thanks, dearest one, for telling me more about the “briss.” (You’re cute—no kiddin’—I’m still laughing). Where on earth did Gloria ever get that idea about a “sheery, sexy nightie and gown set?”—“to start off on the right foot”—no less! What do I think? I think if she as much as raises her dress an inch above her knee when Jack gets back, she better run for cover (bed cover) or else keep a baseball bat handy to beat him off with. As for me—well, you know me, kid—anytime, anyplace, anyhow and we've never needed a nighty before—sheery, sexy nightie, indeed! humph!! I'm insulted you didn't tell her off right then and there. What kind of “bad days”—what kind? Have you been fooling me? That calls for a lot of explanation, dear, and it better be good! About that “devilish” writing—I'm squelched, but completely—and deeply mortified that no one, (not even you —how could you?) appreciates it. Take it from me (and I know) I'm at my best when I write in that vein, and I'm desolated that no one approves. Oh well, such is life— one disillusionment after another—and if you think I'm kidding, then you don't know me. Don't ever call me “doll” “(as Harry would say)”—that's one appellation that really makes me squirm. Pfc. H. Wyman's new address duly noted—I'll write soon. In the next paragraph, you pulled a real boner, Chippie. You tell me about receiving a letter from Jack S. and then in a letter to Goldie he said “the way I feel now I could knock out a dozen kids.” Wait ’til Gloria hears about this! Wrong, Chippie, Frigidaire isn't “one of the best on the market”—it is the best. Yes, I liked the cookies—so did everyone else. They just adored them. I got four (4)—no more, no less. Yes, I can use and am using the underwear. Yes, the candy was in good condition—when I got it. (You should have seen it about ten minutes later!) You are eminently correct in supposing that 5¢ bars are a great favorite with me. If you send nothing else, I'll be content. Keep ’em comin’, Sweet! Interesting—I mean about Adele “dub-bing in” those words she doesn't know. No, Faye’s brother isn't at this base, and I don't see how I can contact him. I'm going to find it very difficult, if not impossible, to meet Eddie or Limey—even if I do know where they are. You say Adele is 33 inches tall now. Seems to me that's pretty tall for a baby her age. Now I am anxious to see her next pictures. The last ones of her were taken in October, if I remember correctly. That was almost six months ago. No, I think Wolpe made those proofs around Christmas, didn't he? Still she must look much differently by now. What color are her eyes now, Sweet? Are they still changing color? No, Sweet, I don't believe in jumping the gun by forwarding congratulations in advance—not for a new baby, anyhow. Plenty of time for that after I know that everything has come out (no pun intended) all O.K. I'm not as wrong as you try to make me out about Phil. I'm only wrong in assuming that he hasn't changed. I understand now, but he has—amazingly. I wrote to him a few days ago. This just about “answers” all your mail, Chippie—I don't think you have any complaint on that score, eh? I neglected to say I started this on the 18th and held it over to complete it on the 19th. I won't forget to say that I love you very much, my darling, and would give much to tell you so again in person rather than through the medium of pen and ink. My love to the punkin and all my dear ones. 

As ever, 

Your Phil 

18th of April, 1944

Dear Phil,

Received your letter of April 11th and I'm very glad to hear from you. Don't know whether we can meet, but as I said before, I can meet you in Bristol. And expressing your thanks for the anniversary present, I want to say that it really wasn't much of a sacrifice and furthermore it was a pleasure to send it. 

Eve writes sometimes and says all is fine and well and that she hears from you pretty often. 

Haven't dropped a line to your brother Jack yet, but I'm doing so right after this letter. Glad to hear he's doing fine and hope it's always that way. A few weeks ago I saw a U.S.O. show which was pretty good. Saw some pictures and putting everything together, not having such a bad time. 

Included in the envelope is two articles about this fellow Taylor I met while I was home. Making himself some name! 

I am fine and about the only thing I really have to put up with is this April weather. I’m still looking for some of the spring weather. How about it? 

Sorry, I slipped up on writing and I will drop you a line constantly. I hope you are enjoying good health and feeling fine. 

That's about all from this chunk of the E.T.O., so till I hear from you! 

sincerely yours, 




Second Lieutenant Mayer Taylor, 25, of 4944 N. 8th st., pilot of the Flying Fortress "Round Trip," risked death in a raid over Frankfurt, Germany, to save his gunner's life. While flying over his target, Taylor doffed his gas mask and used it to rescue the gunner, Sergeant Joseph F. Karpinski, 20, of Wilmington, Del., who had lost his own mask. 

Later Taylor noticed that his bombardier also was without a mask and knowing that men thus unprotected have died at such altitudes, he descended to a lower altitude for the rest of the trip back home. 

Lieut. Taylor, son of Mr. and Mrs, Herman Taylor, already had received the Air Medal for meritorious achievement while participating in five operational raids. 

The Olney High graduate was in business with his father at 1413 Columbia av. before joining the Army on February 28, 1941. He was in the 57th Coast Artillery, but after a year's service in Hawaii he was transferred to the Air Force and was graduated from the bombardier school at Roswell, N. M. 

A brother, Sidney S. an aviation cadet, is now at Beloit College, and another brother, Jack A., is at Camp Stewart, Ga. 

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