July 27, 1944.
I started to write this on the 27th, but here it is the 28th and I’m just getting started. Reason: I got into a sort of debate with Lil on the phone last night that took up most of the evening. It was too late to start a letter then and I wasn't in the mood.
Well, I was right about Eddie. These are some sentences from a letter he wrote to Jack, "The only home we know here is a foxhole - I've been through some big battles but I'm still in there pitching - I hope I make it back someday". Somehow I’ve managed to keep my mind free of war, regardless of how bad the news may have been, but now It sort of makes me sick to my stomach to get it direct. I think I'd do better if I didn't write some of my feelings, then only one of us will be in a bad way. Not that I'm "off" but it has gotten me down a bit.
Yesterday I received your nice short letter of July 22nd, which made you only five days away from me. Mr. Bellet received word yesterday that his oldest son had moved from England to France and he is non-combatant. I wonder if you'll be moving out now??? It seems they are slowly, but surely, moving into France. I feel pretty good where you are concerned, honey. By the way, I understand that it's just possible that Milt Brown is seeing action. He wrote the family not to expect any mail from him for a while and I, myself, have not had mail for several weeks, after having received from one to two letters per week from him. You also asked about Yale and I do have some news about him. Yale and Shirley have been in Oklahoma since their furlough and it seems that Yale was supposed to be shipped to China. However, he requested a medical examination to determine his fitness and is in the hospital at present. I doubt if he will be considered fit, or so Etta thinks. Goldie and Harry had a letter from Eddie today and he seems to be fine. Goldie feels much better now that she has stopped nursing and is "drying up".
Today was payday, but all of it is going for gifts. I must get Paul something for his birthday, which is tomorrow, and something for Fay’s kid, who will be a year old on the 30th, plus a gift for Esther's kid, whom I promised a gift some time ago. I hear that Esther may join George in the near future with the baby. Anne expected Tony to come in from POE and he said he would, but here it is a week and he hasn't showed up. Guess he couldn't make it after all. She knows he was in N.J. as he sent some pictures that bore a N.J. stamp.
By the time this reaches you, sweet, we'll have been separated for the eternally long time of one solid year. God, how much longer will we have to wait! Adele says two very cute things, "blessu" for bless you and "oh, boy!", drawing out the “oh” and making it sound very cute. Miss Hahn has asked me whether I would join the Blue Cross, she listing me as her employee and I think I shall join if I can convert the policy to cover you and Adele some day. Guess that just leaves me room enough to tell you once more that I love you dearly, sweet Phil, and that I miss you so very much.
28 July 1944
Yesterday afternoon I received your letter of 17 July in answer to my “17-pager of 9-10 July.” In it, you said that my letter of 9-10 "was the kind of letter I like to receive from you." I repeat that sentiment in regard to your own letter of the 17th—in spades! You said many things that were brimful of love and longing. You talked about the places you would like to go to, and the things you would like to do the first few weeks after I come home, and painted such pretty pictures in my mind that I was lost in nostalgia the rest of the evening. So much so that although I was CQ last night, and had both the time and opportunity to write reams and reams, I could only lay on the bunk and dream—(and what dreams!). Your desire to stay once again in Room 1777, Hotel New Yorker to “re-live our never-to-be- forgotten honeymoon" (as you so happily phrased it) couldn't possibly be one whit stronger than my own yen to do just that. It is my one immediate ambition. Your suggestion about staying at a camp or mountain-resort to “indulge in sports" is well-meant, I know, but somehow it doesn't appeal to me. That would imply “mixing” with a crowd, and that I definitely would not like. I want you all to myself, with no distractions. A quiet, secluded cabin in the country or mountains would be just the thing, I think. It occurred to me that we might combine business with pleasure by making the trip to Denver, Colorado. We could "do" New York the first week, and then come back home, pick up the punkin, and head for the wide open spaces. If we have a car then, we'll go that way in easy stages. I’d prefer it, because we'd be able to map an itinerary whereby we could visit our friends in Columbus, and a few of my buddies whose homes lay on our route. However, if the car is out of the question, the trip via one of the new "super deluxe" trains wouldn't be too hard to take, either. What do you think of the idea, Sweet?
Seems I was laboring under a delusion in regard to the G.I. Bill of Rights! You're right, of course. Educational opportunities will be offered only to the youngsters (under 25). Too bad, but I'll find a way - you'll see! Even if I don't attain a school of journalism, that isn’t going to discourage me. I'll write—regardless—as long as I have a thought to commit to paper, and even if I know my efforts are ultimately destined for the waste-paper basket. You want to know if I think there is any possibility of getting schooling in journalism after the war. Of course, the training is always to be had—for a price, but as far as getting it gratis (thru the good offices of the government) goes, I don't think so.
I note that you “urged" Mom to go to Brown's Mills. Evidently, you thought that Goldie could manage alone, else you wouldn't have “urged" her to go. I'm sure I can rely on your good judgment in the matter, Baby, but, frankly, the same questions I put in yesterday's letter are still unexplained.
I'm waiting to hear more about Uncle Sam’s new “patent.” I never thought he was gifted that way.
What on earth is Phil doing in the Medical Corps, of all places!?
That certainly was a tough break cousin Meyer got. Of course I remember him!
I suppose I should sympathize with you, Sweet, when you write so pensively about “wanting” me—and I do—but at the same time my male ego glories in the fact—I'm not hypocrite enough deny it. Besides, it serves you right! After all—consider what the lack of you does to me. —Reminds me of that line you used to quote. "It's heaven and it's hell and it's swell." —Was a time when I couldn't figure where the “hell" came into it—but I'm learning—I’m learning—
Glad to know that your accumulation of war bonds is reaching a substantial figure, Chippie. If you have anything to say about it, and I fancy you will have, we'll be rich yet.
Finally got off a letter to Ed late yesterday afternoon. Hope it gets to him, ’cause I'm not sure whether or not his address has changed. I think not, though.
Sorry must conclude this now, Chippie, but Sgt. Murphy tells me he has a mess of work for me—and you know how sergeants are—one must humor them. So long for now, my sweet. Tell me more about what we’re going to do some day—I love it! I love you, too—or did you know that? Tell the lass about “choo-choos", and make it plain to her that daddy and mommy will be taking her for a ride on one some day soon. A kiss for Adele from her loving “da-dee,” none other than
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