20 September 1944
Darling Chippie,
Yesterday I got stuck on making out another report (on the order of the Company History), and worked most of the evening writing it up. That is why you received no letter from me for the 19th. Today I typed what I had written, but it is still only half finished. I'll have to finish it tomorrow, ’cause I expect to take off on a 48-hour pass tomorrow evening, and it must be done before I leave. My plan had been to go to London on pass, but due to the renewed activities of the buzz-bombs, I think it may be wise to wait yet awhile. Instead, I'll spend my leave in Colchester visiting the Woolfs, Dees and Marks, and seeing what shows I have missed (there aren't many!). Your mail of 13 Sep. arrived this afternoon, but it was rather short and uninformative. I am still awaiting your letters from the 7th thru the 12th. Today's letter informed me that you know where to get some pyrex bottles and nipples, that the radio is on the blink, and that you mailed off Mom's letter two days ago. Good, too bad, and good, respectively. You close by wishing me a Happy New Year. Thanks, Baby. Let's hope it will be a happy one for all of us. There isn't much in the way of news at this end except that I am now the company clerk. This is in the nature of a promotion, but actually, my status and work remain the same. The main difference is that I now have a man to help me. Haven't had a chance to write to anyone these past few weeks, Sweet, and although it bothers me, there really isn't much I can do about it. Please give my best to Dot, and tell her that I will write as soon as the opportunity presents itself. Still haven't managed to write to Milt and Syd yet, either, but expect I'll get around to it some time next week. Still waiting for Ed's reply to my last letter. Guess Jack N. is waiting for me to write, ’cause I've been expecting to hear from him.
Sorry, honey, but I'm rather at a loss for (you always say "of”) words myself this evening. I'll try to write while I’m on pass, but don't count on it, Chippie. Kiss my baby for me, will you, Mommy? (And you still haven't told me how it feels!) But I love you anyway, darling.—Honest! My love to all.
Your adoring
Phil
Yesterday I got stuck on making out another report (on the order of the Company History), and worked most of the evening writing it up. That is why you received no letter from me for the 19th. Today I typed what I had written, but it is still only half finished. I'll have to finish it tomorrow, ’cause I expect to take off on a 48-hour pass tomorrow evening, and it must be done before I leave. My plan had been to go to London on pass, but due to the renewed activities of the buzz-bombs, I think it may be wise to wait yet awhile. Instead, I'll spend my leave in Colchester visiting the Woolfs, Dees and Marks, and seeing what shows I have missed (there aren't many!). Your mail of 13 Sep. arrived this afternoon, but it was rather short and uninformative. I am still awaiting your letters from the 7th thru the 12th. Today's letter informed me that you know where to get some pyrex bottles and nipples, that the radio is on the blink, and that you mailed off Mom's letter two days ago. Good, too bad, and good, respectively. You close by wishing me a Happy New Year. Thanks, Baby. Let's hope it will be a happy one for all of us. There isn't much in the way of news at this end except that I am now the company clerk. This is in the nature of a promotion, but actually, my status and work remain the same. The main difference is that I now have a man to help me. Haven't had a chance to write to anyone these past few weeks, Sweet, and although it bothers me, there really isn't much I can do about it. Please give my best to Dot, and tell her that I will write as soon as the opportunity presents itself. Still haven't managed to write to Milt and Syd yet, either, but expect I'll get around to it some time next week. Still waiting for Ed's reply to my last letter. Guess Jack N. is waiting for me to write, ’cause I've been expecting to hear from him.
Sorry, honey, but I'm rather at a loss for (you always say "of”) words myself this evening. I'll try to write while I’m on pass, but don't count on it, Chippie. Kiss my baby for me, will you, Mommy? (And you still haven't told me how it feels!) But I love you anyway, darling.—Honest! My love to all.
Your adoring
Phil
