June 17, 1944
Your letters of May 30 and 31 came through this morning, both of which require no comment. I worked for four hours today and got my third pay, which amounted to exactly $42.08. I splurged by buying my dad a pair of blue gabardine slacks for Father's Day that set me back exactly $6.50. My folks gave me money to get Diana Jean something and I settled for a lovely pink sacque (sweater open down the front). Don't worry, baby mine, I didn't forget you—but the best I could do was a box of 5th Avenue bars. To accompany this I have a box of Nabisco wafers, a few boxes of chiclets, and the two packages of chocolate squares. I hope I get time to mail it off on Monday morning.
June 18, 1944
Dearest, I just couldn't finish writing last night. I felt lousy and this morning I awoke with a miserable head cold. My nose and right eye just won't stop running. To that, I'm “due” and feel twice as badly because of it. Harry gave Diana a name last night and it cost him $5, a bottle of good whiskey and a honey cake. I never thought to ask you, but did it cost you anything at the time you gave Adele a name? Goldie’s folks are here and these are the gifts they brought: $1000 bond from grandfather and grandmother, a $100 bill from Murray, Goldie’s brother, her stepmother made the kid three silk nighties and two gorgeous white lace slips. She also brought Goldie a pinafore, a bottle of good perfume and a box of candy, besides sending her a lovely bouquet of flowers. Several other gifts from Poughkeepsie are receiving blankets, an organdy dress, a linen pillow case and a toilet set. Mrs. Frommer got a bunting and Lena and Bob are giving her a cap and sweater set. Harry is terribly excited about the money, and I can't say that I blame him. Goldie’s stepmother made Adele a little blue playsuit, trimmed with white lace, but as usual, her work is very careless. Harry and Goldie send all their bonds to her father to hold. Goldie’s father would like to have Harry in his business with him, but I don't know what Harry thinks. I know he doesn't like the window-washing business. There is so much to tell you, sweet, that I'd rather save for when I see you—
We're having my mom and dad, Ethel, Al, (Al's brother) Ben and the Silvers for dinner this evening. Harry bought his father-in-law, a gorgeous summer robe. Do I have to say how much you are missed today??? Phil—I feel like a good cry. I've begun to realize how much of a break I had when I found myself able to return to work. Someday I'll tell you why, someday—when we can talk to each other, daddy dearest, your ever lovin’ wife and daughter want to send all their love on this, your day, and a prayer that we may have you with us on the very next one to come. Mr. Silver thinks the war will positively be over by the end of the summer. I'm afraid to even let myself think or hope in that vein, knowing what an awful let-down it would be if that were not the case. That dream you spoke of in your letter of the 31st was a queer one. I very rarely have distinct dreams but I did dream the other night—that our Jack made Sgt. Wonder if he did? I’m short on space, not to mention time, honey, so with a lingering kiss and a sweet caress, I again sign and remain
18 June 1944
Two days have elapsed since I either heard from you or wrote to you. You see, Sweet, it is only rarely that I can find the time to write during the day, and when my evenings are also occupied as they have been, well, I just don't write. I'll have to ask you to bear with me, darling, when you miss getting a letter or two occasionally. Because I have no new mail to answer, I'll go right ahead and tell you something of what I have been doing these past couple days.
On the evening of the 15th, as you already know, Sgt. Murphy and I went along with Klein on the Officers’ Liberty Run. Our intention was to see “Tender Comrade,” and, oddly enough, we succeeded in our intention. I say “oddly enough,” because we are so often side-tracked. Usually there are no seats to be had by the time we get into town and we are forced to settle for some inferior entertainment. When we arrived at the Odeon, (no, not the one in London), there were queues for all seats. I went into the lobby to see the doorman and to ask him what our chances were. Just as I approached him, he bawled that five seats were available. Of course I wasted no time procuring three of them. They were good ones, too, in the “circle” (mezzanine).
The picture was very good, in spite of a good bit of flag-waving. Ginger Rogers was good, but far from perfect in her role of the young wife. At that, she would have had to be very, very good to keep Ruth Hussey from stealing her thunder. The latter consistently makes Ginger appear adolescent and generally incompetent as an actress, although her role isn't “sympathetic.” There is another gal in the picture who presses Miss Hussey closely for acting honors. I don't know her name, but her portrayal of the effervescent young bride is most appealing and perfectly played. She reminded me instantly of Marjorie Weaver in her first roles. The plot itself is simple and utilizes the expedient of “flashbacks” to get the story across. It is the type of story that is commonly described as “timely,” being the story of two young people who married shortly before “Pearl Harbor” and their ensuing history. Too many of the scenes hit “too close to home,” and I was embarrassed to find myself “spilling over” all through the picture. Richard Ryan, incidentally, who plays the part of the young soldier-husband, is very natural in the role, snd gives a highly polished performance which is more commendable for the fact that he is a comparative newcomer to the screen. His good looks are of the type usually described as “homespun.” Perhaps that is why I was continually reminded of the “young Abe Lincoln.” Miss Rogers inhuman restraint in the closing scene “loused up” the picture for me. The woman doesn't live who would have reacted as she did. No woman with the sentimental streak that she displayed, anyway. Her tedious soliloquy in this last scene is as “unmoving” as it is false. On the whole, though, Chippie, I think you would like “Tender Comrade”—if you aren't too critical of the several faults I have mentioned.
We were hungry when we came out, so we wandered about looking for a restaurant. After some inquiries, we were directed to a small place where we filled up on pork sausage, baked beans, french fries (chips), and coffee. Then Klein took off to get the bus, while Murph and I walked back to the Officers’ Club where we waited for Klein to arrive. About ten minutes after we got there, Klein rolled up. There was still an hour to kill before it came time to start back to camp, and we sat in the cab and “shot the bull” until the officers showed.
The next day, (Friday, the 16th) was a full one. So full, that although I was just itching to get a letter off to you, I just couldn't find the time. I was busy all day, and in the evening something else came up (I can't say what) that prevented it.
Yesterday (Saturday the 17th), I was on the rifle-range. We started just after lunch and didn't get back to camp ’til almost 10 o'clock. We hadn't eaten for about nine hours, and we were famished when we got to the mess hall. Then we had to wait a half-hour or so until the cook whipped up a hasty supper of corned beef and eggs. When I got back to the barracks, it was almost 11 o'clock and I was tired. Eleven o'clock here, besides being “date time” for us, is also time for “lights out.” So although I couldn't write, I could and did keep our “date.” As a matter of fact, Sweet, I fell asleep with you in my arms, which all brings me right up to the minute. Today is Sunday and things are pretty quiet around here this morning, for which I am grateful, since it has provided me this opportunity to write this long overdue letter.
Last night, on returning from the range, I went to the Orderly Room to see if I had any mail. There was only Dot’s V-mail of the 9th. I’ll answer it as soon as I have completed this.
If I receive mail from you this afternoon, Sweet, I may write again today, but only if I don't go out tonight. Tonight being my regular “night out,” I thought I might go in with Klein to see the Wolfs. As yet, though, I haven't definitely decided to do so. It all depends on whether or not I'll have time to bathe before-hand.
Well, Baby, I guess that's about all for the time being. Give my love to the punkin. I love you more than ever, Chippie. Here's a kiss for you. My love to the Moms—and all.
P.S. I need a new pipe, Baby, and since I can't get one to my liking around here, I wonder if you wouldn't be good enough to include a “Yellow-bole” in your next package of candy?
June 18, 1944
Have not received a letter from you for some time, but this time I'm not berating you for it. You must be quite busy, but I will wait until you have time to write.
You must have received my letter by this time telling you that Snuff leaves June 24th for Uncle Sam's Navy. It isn't too much of a shock to us as we have been expecting it momentarily. Of course, I can't say that I don't feel the shock of it, but we can't help but think how fortunate we have been thus far.
As you can see by the stationery, we are down Atlantic City for a few days vacation. The baby is home, but I am having a brainstorm that I might like to bring him down here for a few weeks. Of course all this depends on where Snuff is stationed. If he is stationed near home, I won't go away, but if I can't see him anyway, we might as well go away.
We have been getting around quite a bit lately. Movies shows, Atlantic City, etc. God Bless my Mom! If it wasn't for her, we wouldn't be able to do all these things.
Snuff got a beautiful, Eversharp Repeater Pencil and Skyline Pen from the fellows in the shop. His two bosses gave him a shockproof, etc., watch, which was very nice.
I don't know whether you have much time for entertainment lately, but don't miss “Up in Arms.” Danny Kaye is really a riot. You probably know more about what's going on than we do, but the news on this side is very promising. According to the news (Walter Winchell) the war with Germany will definitely be over by August—according to military records.
The programs were just interrupted with a news flash from Honolulu that the Pacific fleet had just been in the biggest air battle since Midway. You also must know that Japan has been bombed again. Isn't that wonderful!
The pictures of the baby didn't come out, so I'll have to wait until we take some others.
Back to our trip, the weather, when we arrived Saturday night was delightful. Sunday was nice, but it poured at night. Today it rained off and on, so we’ll probably take in a movie tonight. Tomorrow night we are going back to the city as Snuff’s sister is coming in from Florida Wednesday morning. Snuff will then have three days home before he leaves.
This letter, as you can see, is one of the longest I have written to you. You really rate. I wonder if I'll write such long letters to Snuff? There isn't much more I can say right now, except write as soon as possibly can, even if it is only one line.
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