19 September 1945
My Darling Chippie,
Couldn't write last night because we worked ’til 10:30 getting the records of 54 more men ready for transfer. This time, I was one of the men transferring. I will be one of a "holding party" of some 75 or 80 men and Officers, who will "ship" all the other men off the base, and hand the field back to the British. That is, that is the way things shape up now, but things in general, and the point system in particular, are in such a god-awful mess, that almost anything can happen. Right now, I'm keeping my fingers crossed and waiting developments. I can't conceive, Chippie, how they can possibly hold me much longer than November. I'm still confident that that is the very latest date I'll ship home. In any event, barring further misadventure, I'll be with you to help celebrate the punkin's 3rd birthday—that's a promise! And, if a certain "break" materializes, I may make it in October yet!
Your longie of 11 Sep., containing the key, arrived today. Being something of a sentimentalist, I got a great kick out of it. Thanks, baby—let's hope I get to use it before too many more weeks have passed—
Sorry to learn about the punkin's fall. It gave me a queer twinge just reading about it. I wonder how I would have reacted had I been there to see it? Hope she wasn't hurt too badly—
You're wrong, Chippie, in your guess that I “never gave it a second thought"—about your being unwell when I arrive, I mean. Hell, the single guys are always kidding us married men about it. They want to know what we'll do in case the wife greets us with a “patriotic welcome" (waving the flag). Some husbands make no bones about it—they'll ignore the "red flag"! Me, I like to think I have will power enough to desist, but I think you know from past experience, Chippie, that there are times when I just can't take no for an answer. However, we shall see what we shall see—As to our having to start, all over again—I can only say “good!” It was fun (for me, anyway) the first time, and it will be even more fun this time, I know. I can't help feeling, though, that it won't be nearly as difficult this time—In this connection, honey, I was wondering if it wouldn't be wise to have yourself fitted with a diaphragm, unless that is impossible in your present “virgin” state. I hate the thought of going back to the "skin" contraceptives we used to use. The only reason I never insisted on it at the time was that I couldn't bear the thought of a male doctor fooling around you, and that you expressed a distaste for the diaphragm. I wish, Chippie, that you would talk to Lena and get Dr. Taylor's address (she's a woman), and see what might be done in that direction. I'd appreciate it if you'd give the diaphragm a trial. Perhaps you'll get over your aversion to it—who knows? Remember, though—no one but Dr. Taylor must touch you—for my sake. Maybe, baby, you'd like to dispense with contraceptives altogether? Remember how glorious it was when we didn't have to “worry"? Sorry, honey, that slipped out—just wishful thinking on my part. Yours shall always be the last word—you know that, don't you, Sweet?
Was happy to learn that you picked up a coupla pounds, but believe me, darling, you couldn't be lovelier than I remember you at 118 pounds. Did I lose any part of my "yen” for you when you were ailing and went down to 113 pounds? I don believe I did. You were always delectable in my eyes, a few pounds more or less notwithstanding. It may interest you to know that I have scrutinized some hundreds of pin-up girls these past 25 months, but I have still to see one that appeals more than the picture of you that I carry in my memory. You were always the most adorable and sexciting girl I ever saw—and you still are, believe me! Remember how Lucifer used to stand to attention whenever I watched you undress? Well, the mere remembering is still enough to make him “rise to the occasion". Am I embarrassing you now, darling? You say you want to be "bad" again—For your sake, baby, I hope you mean that because I'm going to hold you to that—and how!
You said in a recent letter that you intend to "wear me down and wear it (weight) off". That—I would like to see! We’ll see who will say "good night" first!—Just got a swell idea! Let's set the alarm for 3 A.M., then 6 A.M., and each time we'll see if we are equal to a "session". How's that for an inspiration? How come we never tried it before? Do think I'm being silly, Chippie? Maybe so, but at the moment I can't imagine what could possibly induce me to let you get out of bed for at least week after I get into you into bed with me again! (Lady, am I in a "state" right now!)
Have you told the family that I’ll almost certainly be home within the next six or seven weeks? You might ask H + G to make a real effort to find a place for themselves 'cause I don't think my nerves will stand up to too much commotion around the house once I return. I'll crave a lot of peace and quiet when I come home, and I'll do anything rather than have to live in a hubbub of crying babies, domestic arguments, squabbles, etc. Please, darling, do your utmost to impress on H + G that they must find their place before I return. I have no fears about Adele's capacity for getting on my nerves—I'm sure I know how to handle her—now that she's old enough to understand whatever I might say to her, but if I have to listen to Diana's crying and Harry's and Goldie's bickering—or even small talk, I know I shall be strongly tempted to move "us" out and let them have the place to themselves. When you wrote in a recent letter about our having to live together for a few months, I shuddered at the thought, and realized for the first time how distasteful the prospect is to me. I don't have anything against H + G—don't misunderstand me, it's just that I don't want to live in a house full of people and I won't, if I have to get a room at the Y.M.C.A.! I think that H + G must be just as anxious for a place of their own as we are, darling, so won't you tell them that now is the time to do something about it? There's another reason—one you mentioned yourself not long ago. Once I am home again, it will be imperative that Adele has a room of her own. I don't rightly see how we can manage otherwise. The time may seem to drag, honey, but believe me—there isn't to time to spare now—It pleased me no end that Gloria "raved" about "Mike" (are you sure you're not exaggerating?), because I value her opinion highly in this case. But, I was surprised to learn that you haven't submitted it yet. It's not like you, Chippie, to let the grass grow under your feet—As it is, I'm afraid you've "missed the bus". No publisher would have it now, as its greatest value was its "timeliness." Note I said "was"—However, don’t feel badly about it, ’cause there are plenty more (and better ones) where that came from.—Which reminds me—Thank Bob for his kind offer to introduce “my song.” I appreciate his good intentions, but I'm afraid the song itself will have to wait until I have the time and facilities for composition available~
And now--it's way past my bed time, so I must conclude my writing, for the time being, with all my love to you and Adele, and the fervent hope that the need for letter-writing between us shall exist no longer than a few more weeks. Take a fresh hold on your patience, my darling. Try to accomplish what I have asked of you, and be secure in the conviction that I am
Your adoring Phil
P.S. My new mailing address:
Cpl. Phil Strongin—33051975
3d MR & R Sq
AAF Sta F-157, APO 559,
c/o P.M. New York
(The MR + R Sq is not the "Rest and Recuperation" as you might suppose, but Mobile Repairs & Reclamation Sq—get it?)
Sept. 19, 1945
Dear Phil and Evyie,
(Don’t puzzle the spelling Ev, leave it for Phil)
It was grand hearing from both of you. It’s rather strange, the difference in wording in your letters telling me about the same thing. Yours, Phil, is typically and iffily G.I. about your return. Ev’s, poor civilian, is sure and positive to say nothing of certain. I don’t want to put a damper on things, but, even though everything that you, Phil, relate points towards excellent possibilities—oh hell—You will be home by Christmas. I might even be there to welcome you with my wife helping me. (I know it seems strange, but that’s what I said exactly, my wife. It’s a wonderful feeling.)
We’re doing swell and wondering how in hell we spend so much money with so very few places to spend it, except for a lamp, a blanket, a dress, a suit, etc.
Gee we got a complete serving for six from Marjorie’s Mom and Dad for a wedding gift. It’s the Old Lace pattern of Towle silver. It’s beautiful. We used it Sunday with steak and stuff and angel food cake. Marge is a swell cook and amazes me.
Phil, I’m sorry I neglected your previous letter, but I’ve been in a whirl, honestly. I bit off a big hunk to handle out here and there’s lots of doing involved, almost too much for an ex G.I. just out of the lazy hospital life. Things are panning out nicely now, though, and I’m pretty well set.
I know it’s very late for the doing, but please accept my apologies and grant me forgiveness for that night I separated you two by taking Phil on a business jaunt. I can well see my error, now that I too have a real sweetheart.
Do you like the pictures? Marjorie was a bit ill at ease, writing to you Phil. It was a little hard, I guess, for her “stranger” feeling.
I really do hope to be back East by Christmas. I believe I can finish this job by then in time for that. Some people who don’t know how to typewrite can get around to getting home easily. Hell though, Phil, you’re doing a job and have done one that has helped in making this a grand and glorious place to return to. So, chin up, old boy, and your turn will come for giving up desire by fulfillment.
I learned yesterday that the earliest date I can be operated on again by Dr. Lempert will be June 5, 1946. It’s rather disappointing, but hell I’m here and healthy so I can’t kick. At that time he supposedly will thin a tissue that’s too thick and not able to vibrate or cause to vibrate the stopple it covers in the new hearing opening that he has already made.
Gee, every time I write to you my whole being tingles with lonesomeness and at the same time an inner happiness because such as you, are such as I am privileged to count as friends, and people to once again come close to in a future, that were it even tomorrow to become the present that found us together, would still be too far distant to please my desire. Gosh, how I want to see you all again, every one of you, to say nothing of the one who has changed the most, the Little Princess.
Well, kids, that’s all there is for now ’cause sleep time approaches. Gosh how sleep time has changed.
My love to you all, and to you, Phil, my deepest and heartfelt wish for a speedy and safe return.