Tuesday, September 28, 2021

Post #409 - July 7, 1944 Today is the Eleventh Day the Mercury has been Way Over 90 and the Average is About 97


July 7, 1944

My darling,

I didn't write on the 6th and I was supposed to write this yesterday, but again became side tracked. So here it is the 8th and I am just about getting around to writing. I have plenty of news and plenty to tell you, so here goes -

I haven't had mail from you for three days now and if there isn't something for me on Monday I'll know something is up again. My folks haven't heard from Eddie (his last letter was written June 16th) for quite some time and his mail usually comes through better than yours. I'm hoping he hasn't moved out, but I think I'm hoping in vain. As long as he is okay, I don't care where he is.

Thursday I worked as usual. In the morning before going to work I went shopping with my Mom and mailed off the two packages I had readied - one for you and one for Eddie. Thursday night Sylvia (Milt's girl) came for dinner and I spent the balance of the evening talking to her, which prevented my writing to you.

Friday morning we had a letter from Glo and she is here for the whole weekend, having arrived about 7:30 Friday night. She had promised to give me a dress, one that I had admired, and that Jack never particularly cared for, since she did not have the proper accessories for it. She brought it along this weekend. It's a two piece wool dress, acqua color with dubonnet trim and little dubonnet flowers throughout the material. I think you would like it very much.

Glo tells us that Rose Genshaft is pregnant - four months gone. Sammy has a new job and is making more money and Anne plans to quit working in August. Arny has to have his tonsils out in the fall. Glo says Arny is the most adorable kid you ever saw.

Lenny and Lee bought a car, having borrowed some money from Jackie.

Friday I didn't go into work. My mother was scheduled to be a writer for the soldier vote at the polls and gets $10 for the day on Fri. and I didn't want her to lose it. Mr. Bellet didn't mind, as I am up-to-date on all my work. I caught up on my house work and got the whole house into shape. I had been calling the shoe store where I buy Adele's shoes and they advised me that they had received a pair of white buckskins in her size and would save them for me. I decided to save the trip downtown for Sat. morning.

This morning I went downtown with Adele and Glo and I got Adele the white shoes. While I was there I decided to get myself those much-needed sports shoes and settled for a sensible, good-looking pair of oxfords of British tan color (copper) with a box heel, and some perforations around the front of the shoe. They are beautifully cut and flattering to the foot, and they ought to be, cause I paid $8 for them. Adele’s shoes cost me $4 even, instead of the usual $3.50. Adele was terribly cranky and when we got home she threw up. It's very warm and she was hungry and tired. I tried to get her some ice-cream at several of those small places on South St, near 10th, but every one of them were out of ice-cream. I settled for some pretzels, which kept her busy for a short while.

Last night I had a call from none other than Frances Benis. The Benis' are in town for the weekend and I've invited them for dinner Sunday night. They aren't sure they can make it, but I certainly hope they'll come up to the house. Their other brother. who was listed as missing, is a war prisoner.

Adele has been napping most of the afternoon, which leaves me free to write this. I'm kind of knocked out from the ordeal, and think I shall continue on this letter, when I feel more rested. See ya later, honey.

I feel much better now, honey, and will give you some more details concerning the Benis'. They are staying at the Ben Franklin and will be here til Mon. morning. They have many visits to make and I'm hoping they won't have to pass us up again.

I stopped over to Anne's Fri, morning and picked up the two snaps of the kids. I particularly dislike the one I tore (I tore it cause there was a part of me there and I disliked that too.) and the other isn't much better. However, it will serve to give you an idea of how Richy looks these days.

You mentioned in one of your last letters that you hadn't heard from Mike. I'm surprised, cause he said he was going to write immediately and his letter to me was so friendly. I can't contact them cause they do not have a 'phone and I don't feel like writing again til they've replied to my letter.

I bought Adele a pair of yellow socks to go with the yellow pinafore and white shoes. Now all I need is a big yellow bow and she'll look like a regular doll baby.

Today is the eleventh day the mercury has been 'way over 90 and the average is about 97. It's positively terrific and I hope the mercury drops below 90, for this heat has everyone down.

Gloria made an appointment with Thelma Levin and is going to me her in town this evening to take in a movie. I think I'm going to tail along. I haven't been in town to a movie for too long and think it would do me good to have some fun.

Goldie and Harry got the baby a nice carriage for $35 dollars and Goldie now takes the baby out. It's royal blue with grey insides.

Adele calls a cat a "pussey" and chases them all over the place. She keeps calling "Da-dee - home". She is learning to put two words together, such as "Mommy - down" (meaning I should take her down in the morning).

Seymour is writing nicer letters these days, as both you and I suspected he would. My cousin Meyer (I don't know if you remember him) (my aunt Gussie's younger son) graduated as a pharmacist on July 6 and on the 7th he was inducted into the Army. He had requested the Navy hoping to make Pharmacist's Mate - but that's how things are handled.

Jack made Gloria a bracelet and earrings of Australian coins that is quite attractive, as well as odd. From several snaps that Glo showed us, I can say that Jack looks like a million. I sure do wish I could see some snaps of you, sweet, as it has been a long time since you took that large picture.

I'll write you more about my trip in town tomorrow, which I hope will come off. So long for now, baby, you know that you're the apple of your


July 7, (1944) (Len’s birthday)

Dear Phil,

Here I am with my conscience, at the service club. I'm writing on paper resting on the arm of a nice comfortable seat, second row center in the haphazard arrangement of lounging paraphernalia from which in an hour or so will be viewed a USO show. 

If censor cuts out the following, it isn't as though you were missing much, so don't puzzle about it. 

You've heard and read of ghost towns. Well, this is now a ghost camp. Row on row of barren barracks and board after board stating off limits are to be found in 90% of the camp’s grounds. But I, I am still here. What a crazy G.I. story I have to tell on me. Listen and reflect or Read and forget, or somethin’. 

First off, I was in the 226 Engrs. on arriving here. How I got into photography you already know. Then a while back, the 226th pulled out but the major that runs the Engr. Bd. had me transferred to the 225th so I could continue to work for him. I liked that idea and it was then starting to warm up a bit and it's beautiful here winter or summer, so I was downright happy with the prospect of spending at least the summer here. 

Well, there I was with an outfit (combat) but not part of it since my job was photography and photography only, and the C.O. was merely accommodating the major by carrying me, which G.Isn't done. So this was set up. Major treated me (still does) like a son. Never refused me a pass, two or three day. Never bossed me around. Perhaps the explanation lies in the reply he furnished to my beginnings of words of thanks to him for keeping me here. He said “Jack, don't for a minute take that attitude. I kept you here because you're doing a job for me. An important one. So remember you've only yourself to thank. He's one swell guy. Anyway, my company had no say over me whatever, nor any of its awe inspired sergeants. (I say awe inspired 'cause that's the closest description I can think of when a tech or staff sarge can't say boo to a private who comes and goes at will, gets passes every weekend, has his own jeep in which he rides with or without Wacs or civilian girls around camp, and who to top it off knocks off around 100 bucks extra each month in picture selling.) (Incidentally, when the major finally deemed to take me in hand and ask how much extra dough I was making monthly and I told him about fifty bucks, he says, “Strictly speaking, government equipment, etc. (the material is honestly my own) it's illegal, but for me to remember that he knows nothing of it. “What a deal, eh?) Whaat word would you use? 

Well, the 228th is going to move. Wonder what major will do now? He started to pull more strings and effected a transfer into progress, which as yet hasn't landed me into station complement. But though the whole of my outfit moved out and technically and administratively I am in it, I'm hundreds of miles from it. So I'm now the civilianest damned G.I. in the army. No reveille, no retreat, no inspections, no nothin. Borrowed bed, borrowed meals, but anything goes 'cause I'm quite well known in camp and fairly well liked. Every officer I come into contact with, I've done a picture favor or two for. They put a blind eye to all this G.I.nanigans and say  sure, O.K. I’ll probably get a rating out of the deal, to boot. 

Phil old boy, I've not written you for so long I don't know which subject to hop to first so bear with me, guy. 

Denver! I enjoyed your Why, not? or Why? First of all, it's an air conditioned city. Dry, warmth, pleasant coolness, day and night respectively. Intermittent showers are the rule the few off days that rain decides to bedeck a beautifully scenic encircled city. The older people of Colorado have such snap and sparkle they belie their years by some 30 percent to the eyes of an Easterner. 

I suppose you've noticed the chewed up appearance of these pages. Hell, that's the neatest I could keep them in my pocket throughout a three day pass and two of work.

I was suddenly called upon to play piano for the crowd that was growing restless awaiting the show's opening. I guess I did O.K. 'cause soon they were all singing. But not so with your first six pages of my letter.

Anyway, now I’ve a bit more to tell you. A month or so back I started calling on Marilyn. She's a cute kid that lives here and works here as does the the rest of her swell family. The people are people to the core, and it's just swell enjoying some of their home life, as I've had the pleasure of joining them quite a number of times, many of them lunch and dinner. The whole family (Mr. and Mrs. and Sue 16 and Marilyn 19) plays the piano they have in their four room apartment on the post. Mr. Byler and I played on two pianos the night of the civilian bond rally of which Mr. B. was an integral part. He’s also the editor of the civilian camp newspaper “The Mountain Ear.”

This past Saturday, at noon, we all went to Colorado Springs in their ’40 Plymouth. I was sorry I couldn't join them as they entrained from there for Kan. City, Missouri, their home to stay for eight days. I feel sort of lonesome now.

I did O.K. on pass, though. Sat. night I USO danced and then hitch lined to 75 mile distant Denver, where I slept in a bed in a room behind the hotel desk. One buck. Sunday I played golf and at night gidgy. Monday was taken up with buying a ’31 Chevrolet for $120.00. It’s four good tires (no fifth) and good (so far) motor got me back to Camp Hale without a bit of trouble for the 130 mile trip in four hours, much of which was up and down and through mountain passes. The roads are so damped and bumpy they should more effectively be called impasses. 

I'm looking forward to a furlough just as soon as I get transferred. 

I've been corresponding with Adeline, though irregularly. 

Say, congrats, unk! 

Phil, I'm going to knock off now. At the moment, I seriously intend to write you in the very near future 'cause I feel as though I'll have concrete news of interest. So please excuse me now, pal. May God be with you. 

As ever, 
Jackie (Nerenberg) 

July 7th, 1944 

Dear Phil: 

Received your letter of June 29th and I don't need to tell you how good it made me feel. 

You probably received the news by now that Snuff was sent back home. He was 9 days over the 90 days allowed by the law to pass after taking a physical. We seem to be getting some pretty lucky breaks. 

Spoke to Evie to tell her that I had heard from you. Now that she's working, I don't speak to her nearly as often as I used to, and there is very little chance of her paying me a visit. I'm planning on paying her a visit in the near future, but I think it is better for her to come out here as it gives her a chance to get out. 

We had a very pleasant 4th. We went to Mt. Holly with another couple and we went canoeing, swimming, etc. Remind me when you get home that we must all go there sometime. 

You know, Phil, when I receive a letter from you, I feel as though I'm the only friend you have. This isn't true, of course, but you have that knack to make everyone have that feeling. I enjoy it, of course, as it is most flattering. (Do you get what I mean by all this mish-mosh?) 

Before I sat down to write this letter, I thought of so many things I wanted to tell you, and now I can't think of one of them. 

As far as your daughter is concerned, you need not fear that she isn't cute. She is really adorable and as edible in real life as she is on her pictures. 

Hal is sitting beside me right now and he is simply fascinated by the writing of the fountain pen. Glad you enjoyed “The Bulletin” so much. I shall try to send one to you every week. They are given out by Strawbridge and Clothier's and I personally think they are a splendid idea. I'm sending one out the same day I mail this letter. 

There isn't much more I can say now except answer soon. 

As ever, 
Dot (Cohen)