Saturday, May 21, 2022

Post #546 - January 8, 1945 I Guess the Guests Thought You Were Nuts When You Passed Up the Chicken and Turkey in Favor of Tomato Herring and Our Company is Made Up, in the Main, of Mechanics of One Sort or Another


Jan. 8, 1945

Dearest Mine,

After waiting for ages to get a letter dated after Dec. 9th, and finally getting two on Saturday dated the 14 and 15 Dec., today the mail became crazier still for I received your letter of Dec. 27th. How about that! Also received a letter from Jack N. (which I shall try to remember to enclose with my next air mail letter) stating that he will be staying with Sammy and Anne in Brooklyn and that he wants me to stay there while in New York. He still has dizzy effects from the operation, which was of major importance. He said he came around faster than the usual patient, who usually has vomiting spells. He has yet to vomit, and Thanks God for that. He said he put "the" particular ear to the radio to try to hear sound and that he heard just a wee bit. That isn't important - the important thing is that he "hears", even though it is just a wee bit.

I'm sorry you didn't get the opportunity to write more often during the holidays, but you're excused, honey. That K.P. sounded like a honey and I certainly wish you'd get your Sgt. stripe so that it wouldn't be necessary any more. And what did you mean when you said you'd be referring to Sgt. Murphy in another connection? I didn't get the significance of that remark. Or didn't you mean anything at all?

I guess the guests for dinner thought you were nuts when you passed up the chicken and turkey in favor of tomato herring. I think you're nuts too. I had no idea you were that fond of tomato herring.

I stopped at Lit Brothers on my way to work and returned the pair of white gloves I bought on Saturday. I didn't think they were worth $3 at all. The copper ones are very nice, and go with my other accessories perfectly. I can't get over how nicely the sweater and hat for Diana turned out. It is a beautiful set and Goldie is crazy about it. By the way, I certainly hope you get the opportunity to write directly to her to thank her for the letter.

Last night I dashed over to the yarn shop and bought some beige wool to make Paul the vest I had been promising to make for a long, long time. It’s really a very belated birthday gift - but better late than never. While there I noted that she gives instructions for the making of those crocheted handbags and even sells the materials, so that's the next item on my "make" list. I am going to make myself a black corduroy bag and get myself a pair of dressy black shoes with a low heel, so that I'll be able to wear my black velvet suit. I am unable to wear it cause I don't have the proper accessories. I am also going to make Adele a pair of mittens, if and when I get around to "making".

And so, baby, I find myself completely out of words. Adele gets smarter every day and constantly surprises us with her expressions. She’s as cute as ever! Gosh but I wish you could see her! There'll come a day!! I love you so much, my dearest - or had you guessed as much -

Your Eve

8 January 1945

Dearest Chippie,

Seems like it's getting increasingly difficult for me to write daily anymore - at least I notice that my lapses are becoming more and more frequent. I feel rather guilty on this score, Baby, although these fallings from grace are rarely voluntary. It's knowing that you write consistently even when you have just as much justification for not writing as I have that causes me to squirm whenever I miss writing - whatever the reason. My only consolation at these times, Chippie, is the hope that you understand and forgive these lapses, however eagerly you await my letters. I've been busy every minute of every day for more than a week now. When I’m not actually doing anything it is only because I'm thinking about what I must do next. I know you would be amazed, darling, at the amount of detail I am responsible for. There is a feeling extant among the uninitiated (and this even applies to the majority of men in my company) that the company clerk has a “soft touch". As far as they know, all I do is make out the payroll each month. They think that I sit around and twiddle my thumbs the rest of the time - that I have just about the easiest job in the Army, and never hesitate to throw it up to me. There was a time when I would defend myself against this sort of criticism, but I'm so weary of the prejudices, pettiness, and general ignorance of these characters, that I no longer bother to explain that quite a lot is expected of me, and that I try to do what is expected of me the best I know how. As you know, Sweet, our company is made up, in the main, of mechanics of one sort or another. There are Automotive Mechanics, Armament (guns) Men, Ammunitions men, etc. Naturally, being mechanics, and working with their hands and muscles, they have the mechanics’ instinctive contempt for a guy who holds a desk job, nor do they make any effort to conceal their distaste or inherent dislike for me on that account. Knowing the basis for this attitude as I do, I can almost forgive them the things they say and do that are calculated to hurt - and do, but not quite, 'cause I, in turn, have nothing but contempt for anyone so intolerant or prejudiced or unfeeling that he takes pleasure in tearing down another guy cause he don't happen to be a mechanic. I've tried my best to overlook all this, Chippie, and God knows I have enough to feel bitter about without having to contend with this ridicule from my own "buddies." Nothing angers me more than to have anyone look down their nose at me, and it would be hard for me to explain how deeply it hurts when I am made aware that one of the fellows is doing just that. I've tried everything I know [short of sheer back-slapping (the Army has a cruder term for it) and hypocrisy] to make friends in the company, but despite my best efforts in that direction, I can't truly feel that I have made more than a few friends who would go from here to the corner for me. I prefer to believe that this is due to the fact that I am the company clerk, but I know now that there is at least one more factor involved (which shouldn't take too much imagination on your part to guess), and that of course, is mainly why I feel badly about it. Nothing overt has, as yet, been voiced in my presence, but I have it from the best authority that such is the case. Altogether, it isn't an easy situation I find myself in, and I think you can appreciate how I feel about all this, but I guess I've been in the Army long enough to put up with any aggravations, both of the body and the mind, and if you'll permit me to go melodramatic on you for an instant) - of the heart. I remember that I promised myself a long time ago that I would refrain from any temptation to air my own private griefs to you, and really, Sweet, I don't know how or why I ever brought it up, but there it is, and because it is almost time for lights out, and therefore much too late to tear this up and write another letter, and because I hate to let this day go by without writing to you, I have decided to let this go through. I can only beg your indulgence, Baby, and your forgiveness for bringing to your attention a matter which is, after all, my own private problem. My best and dearest love to you, my darling (you'll never know in how many ways you’ve been my salvation), and to our adorable Adele, bless her little head!  My love to all.

Your Phil