Post #16 - June 3, 1941 The Dog Makes a Mistake and Target Practice

June 3, 1941

7:35 P.M. 

Dearest Phil:

You are probably wondering what has happened to me during the past 48 hours. Well, sweet, after the train pulled out Edna and her parents drove me home. When
I arrived at the house no one was there. Mom got lonely and decided to visit Mrs.
Booker. I sat on the porch for about a half hour and then Mom came home. We talked for a while and Harriet stopped in to help the conversation along. All day Monday I was kept very busy at work and had to stay until 6. Mr. Yusem and Mr. Jaffe kept kidding me about how good it was for me—instead of going home to cry myself to sleep. I had promised Mom that I would take the fish and blintzies (some spelling) up to my Mother's house. Jakie promised to go with me so I wouldn't have to come home alone. We didn't leave West Philly until about 8:30, arrived in Logan at 9:15. Paid Helen a visit. Everything the same. Jack and I each took a ride on my brother's bicycle. We also went to Ann's house. Tony was there. They are going to be engaged a week from this coming Saturday. Ann informs me that her ring is as large as mine, maybe larger. Incidentally, Ann quit her job and has been filling out applications at the arsenal. I forgot to tell you that we are invited to the engagement party. I gave Lil a call and thanked her for the gifts. She was elated with the fact that it (shaving set) came in so handy. Harry Weinman took his examination and the doctor said he has a bad throat. Bad tonsils or sumpin’.

Something very surprising happened at my mother's house. I brought Lucky out and took her over to Jakie. Instead of biting him, as we all expected, she jumped on him and kissed him. Can you picture it? The only explanation I can offer is that Jakie was wearing your shoes, tie, etc. and Lucky didn't realize what was inside the clothing. To say that everyone was amazed would be putting it mildly. Nothing like it has ever happened before, except, perhaps with you, but even so it took a while for her to get used to you.

Well, at least it took up a page. Everyone at home (both of them) are fine. It's very cool this evening, in fact everyone I see is wearing an overcoat. So long baby and I love you dearly. 

“Ev” 

P.S. Eddie Strong is here and who tells me that he loves you, too. “Aw gee, ain't that nice.” I just quoted Eddie who is readin’ as I write it.
 

P.P.S. Harriet also sends regards.

Tuesday, June 3, 1941—6:25 P.M.

My Dearest,

Another good day for me. The weather is still gratifyingly cool and the drilling is much more tolerable as a consequence. Our work is largely target practice now (no ammunition). Next week we're in for some serious shooting on the range, with our own rifles this time and .30 caliber ammunition with targets at 200 yards. We're all looking forward to it with keen anticipation as it promises to be great sport. Your letter arrived this evening and I was certainly glad to get it. Last night instead of cleaning my rifle, shining my shoes, getting my laundry together, etc., I suddenly got lazy and when some of the fellows suggested the movies, I consented, and without further ado we left everything and scrammed. We weren't sorry though as the picture was excellent. “So Ends Our Night” is the picture you and Mom must see, Ev, you'll love it. Anyhow what I meant to say was, that all the little things I didn't attend last night, I'll have to see to tonight. The laundry is already turned in (and what a bundle), so after I complete this letter, I'll get started on the other things. No other mail has reached me as yet. I hope it's on the way. Did you call DeKoven yet? How are things at home? How did Jack enjoy the picnic? I'm expecting the answers tomorrow, sweet,—don't disappoint me. I better get started on my various small tasks, Ev, or I'll never get done. My love to all. Hasta Mañana, dear.

Your “buddy”

Phil

Post #15 - June 2, 1941 Anticipating a Night Out and Sharing the Candy

June 2, 1941 

7:10 P.M.

Dear Hubby: 

I felt better than I have ever felt when I left you at the train. I want to see you off whenever you must leave me. I sprayed this paper with perfume—before writing—but it is just as difficult to keep the writing from blurring. I'm in a terrific hurry as I worked until 6:15 this evening and I promised my mother I would definitely be out this evening. It's rather late now and i want to get to bed early. Jake is going to go to Logan with me. I'll write you a nice letter tomorrow with all the details of tonight's happenings. I have a good notion to tear this letter up and write you a neat one (for a change) but I don't want to waste the perfume. I got the stamps for you, sweet, and I didn't have to pay for them either. I love you, baby and I'll write tomorrow. Love and Regards from all.

Your wife, 

“Ev” 

P.S. How's the money, ’er pardon me, chicken feet holding out

Monday, June 2— 6:10 P.M. 

Dearest Evelyn,

Arrived shortly after 11 and went immediately to bed. The weather this morning was cloudy and drizzling, but it was a welcome change from the hot sun. The training schedule was later than usual, too. I think we're over the toughest part of our training until maneuvers. No one knows exactly when they begin or how long they'll be right now. The weather is cool and comfortable. No one here seems to mind the absence of the sun. There's very little of interest I can write, so you'll excuse me if I cut this would-be letter short. There are a few things I would like to get done before I retire. I'm hoping you're writing at the same time as I. Received no mail today from anyone. You may be glad to know that I can't get the picture of how you looked last night out of my mind. You were never lovelier, sweet. By the way, when do I get that picture? The fellows are going to work on Lil's candy and I'm trying to keep pace. So I better concentrate on it if I'm to get my share. So long until tomorrow, dear. Regards and love to all.

Yours, 

Phil

Post #14 - May 28, 1941 An Amorous Pass, A Letter from Lil, and Looking Forward to a Weekend Pass

May 28, 1941
6:30 P.M. 

Dear Phil,

Was more than happy to receive your letter even though it was cut short. That compliment certainly helped to boost my spirits. I'm glad that you were rested and had it comparatively easy. You sounded more cheerful in this letter which was probably due to the fact that you had a light? schedule on Monday. As for the constant importuning for money—forget it. (lousy pen—I can hardly write) I'll get even someday. Anyway, as I told you this past weekend, it is really “our” money and you are entitled to it, if and when you need it. I hope that the enclosed $3.00 will be sufficient to tide you over until June 4th. If, by chance, you find it is not enough, you know where you can find me. It certainly will be a saving if you can arrange to come in with Sam's friend. Here's hopin’! Jack, the dope, sends a letter to Lenny, in which he balls out Jack N. for not writing, and then addresses the letter, “Phila., Pa.” and it was returned this evening. I'll send your bathing suit as soon as I find it, which means you can expect it sometime during the next day or so. Lil sent me the enclosed letter. (what a surprise) I thought I would send it along to give you an idea of what's been happening to her. She sounds like she has some definite plans in mind—for a change. She's still a swell girl for my money. Maybe I like her so swell because the admiration is mutual. Perhaps she will be able to get Eddie to drive us down to Ft. Meade in the event you cannot get leave. I'm going to give her a call and ask her about it. I got another compliment today from Mrs. Glick (lady next door). She was watching me from the pavement as I walked up the front steps to the apartment and then commented “What a mean pair of legs.”—To which I replied “He thinks so.” Did she laugh! In fact I almost got myself a date the other day at the office. Some fellow (he's not Jewish) has been watching me every time he walks into the office. On this particular occasion he said i've been wanting to ask you out. “You aren't married are you?” I said yes & he thought I was kidding—’til he saw my rings. Boy, was his face red. Now he doesn't pay any more attention to me. I felt lousy yesterday. Had a headache and was very tired due to the extremely hot weather that we have had all this week. It's positively unbearable. I listened to Bob Hope last night and heard a new song called “I've Been Drafted, Now I'm Drafting You.” It's “us” all through the song. The tune is catchy and the words hit home. I thought the President's speech was okie dokie. He always hits home. Do you realize that I haven't called you, “sweet” or told you how much I love you, so i'm taking time out to say—I love you, Phil—

The soldier's wife 

“Ev” 

P.S. Mom, Jakie & Harry send their love and best regards.

(Tell your bunk-mates that miniature chocolates are poisonous) 

Dear Phil:

Received your welcome letter and I am also grateful because you take the precious time to write. Please, and you know I'm serious, “can” that ace & gratitude business—because at least the money is spent on something useful—as it is not my usual custom. I only wish that I could send your dear wife down by parcel post, then would I believe the above. Things have taken a different turn since I last wrote. Eddie asked me not to go to camp—to wait through the summer with him and then things would probably begin to happen. As it happens (between you, Ev and I)—he told me if he's called in the draft (and he has had his physical but hasn't received his rating as yet), also he's still an alien although he's applied for his last papers, I'll get my ring before he goes and if he's not taken he'll see that he makes a decent living wage and then a marital status and so it took my almost going home and to camp for a final statement. Even tho’ he's terribly stubborn and as yet anything can happen, at the present I think my best bet is to stick.—(This love business is the bunk.) (I've lost 36 pounds in the last four months because I just happened to care about him and he is essentially an ace for all his faults & without my being prejudiced in his favor. Tomorrow (Sunday) I'm making a visit to your house to see Ev and I hope you're home—if you're not you'll receive this letter and it is my fervent (what's that mean) wish and hope that you receive this after i see you.

This letter reminds me of the crossword puzzle definition of “P.I.”—meaning jumbled type. Since it's not so warm I'm sending chocolates and I hope & pray that you eat at least one piece, also for more barrack orderly days. Your family as I comprehend is taking your being away as sporting as possible and I want to assure you that it's not only a front when you're home— 

I wish that your new home was ready so that it would also occupy the heavy time on Ev's hands. By the By, you have certainly got the top as wives are classified. 

As I said to Ed—if you (Ed) go to Army, get sent to Camp Meade where Phil will assert some good influence over you—Well nothing else to tell you only that to put in a good word to your patron God for Ed and I and I'll do the same for you. I've come off my case—so I have time on my hands & I'll have to unpack (I was set to move). Until i see you & even if not keep well & look forward to coming home (Lil

Regards from my family and Ed—

May 28, 1941—8:15

Dear Ev,

Forgive the post-card as it's roasting here in barracks and it takes too long to write a letter. Thank Jack for the nice letter—I got a kick out of it. Chances for getting home this weekend are improving and I'm waiting most impatiently for the money. Hope it gets here in time. I'm feeling swell and our training is progressing rapidly. As a result the work is getting a little easier. Keep your fingers crossed, sweet, and maybe I'll see you soon. Love to all. 

Yours, 

Phil

Post #13 - May 27, 1941 A Dual Letter from Wife and Brother and a Scented Letter and Agreement of Sale

May 27, 1941

Dear Phil,

I hope this letter finds you well & getting more in stride with Army life. After I left you at the station, I went on my date and had a swell & inexpensive evening. Mom & Ev didn’t do anything after you left, just stayed home and talked. Mom went to the customs house yesterday and became a bit upset as she was there for five hours. She is to receive her citizen papers in about eight months. I’m expecting Lenny in this Thurs. night and expect to have a very rushed week-end. Harry is working at Al’s station at night and the bookies assure Harry that they don’t mind a bit. Oh well what can you do with a guy like that. Our frat is having a picnic this Sunday and as you have already guessed I’m taking Yvette. Mickey, when asked about Charley exclaimed in the usual manner “Well he’s all right—But—

So you see it’d just the case where boy likes girl but girl doesn’t like boy. I’m writing this letter after supper and it’s a very warm and stuffy day. Really dear brother I’m nuts. On a cool day I’d never write but in a day such as this I do. Everyone here is looking forward to hearing our President speak to-night. I guess you’ll hear him yourself. I only hope that he speaks of keeping us out of war instead of us getting into it. Did you write to Jackie yet? Please write as often as you can Phil for when Ev receives a letter from you in the morning she’s happy for the rest of the day, and I figure if you write everyday Ev will always be happy and if I may say so sir, that is one of your any duties making your wife happy.

Your loving brother

Jack

P.S. Love and regards from all to all.

7:30 P.M.

May 27, 1941

My dear Phil,

Not having enough patience to sit down and write a litter, I prevailed upon Jack to write “the daily letter.” He certainly is thoughtful about me, isn’t he? I took a walk with Mickey last night—for a change. Mom was tired and went to sleep, leaving me alone—that’s why. Things are very quiet here. I’ll write you tomorrow, sweet. In the meantime, I love you.

“Ev” 

Tuesday May 27, 1941—6:30

My dear Ev,

Received your most welcome scented letter this morning, and where do you get that "slightly perfumed" stuff? I waved it under my bunk-mate's nose and the reaction was amazing. He was napping and when I fluttered it beneath his schnozzle he sat bolt upright and yelled "WHEW!"! Some stuff that "Toujour Mois." I’m beginning to suspect the source of your power over me. Seriously though, Ev, it is nice to be able to depend on you for a letter each day. The sun is still "on parade" here and causes us no little discomfort. The day's work was pretty much as usual, beginning at 5 A.M. and ending at 4.30 P.M.; Bayonet drill, Field glass and Prismatic compass instruction, Hand Grenade practice was the order of the morning, while this afternoon it was extended order drill, 60 mm. Mortar firing technic and Group games. Another Sergeant went to Hospital today with a skin rash. It's getting to be a habit. We don't know yet, of course, whether not we'll get passes this week-end. About seven or eight fellows don't even have a chance to get leave this week and because they foolishly dashed into the 115th Inf. barracks for a drink. An officer caught them and the penalty was suspension of their leaves this week. A pretty stiff price to pay for a drink of water, don't you think? I was thirsty as hell too, but this boy doesn't take any chances. So I still have a fighting chance to see you this week-end (if you can spare the cash). I wrote to Jack Nerenberg last night. Hope he answers soon. About the telephone plugs, sweet—I have an idea. It seems to me we should have two. One in the parlor and one in our bedroom, so that we could take the phone upstairs when we retire and have it handy through the night. Don't you think it's the logical thing? What's all this about Mom feeling shaky about moving into our new home? It all sounds very silly to me and I don't like it one little bit. You can tell her so for me. It's the only thing we have to look forward to. Our very lives are wrapped up in it since it marks a forward step in the lives of each of us. So I resent deeply the fact that anyone, let alone Mom, should throw cold water on our hopes and ambitions. Especially since I can conceive of no justification for thinking or talking in that vein. I'd like very much to know just what Mom's objections are.

It pleased me no end to hear that others took the trouble to compliment you on your appearance, and I am proud, sweet, very proud. Keep up the good work, baby. Give my love to Mom & the boys; Regards to everyone and a kiss for you, baby, from

Private Strongin

Post #12 - May 26, 1941 Pondering the Move to a New Home and Returning to Camp

May 26, 1941

6:15 P.M.

Dearest Phil:

After all the talking we did we failed to discuss the mort important question of whether we should have a plug installed in our house and where it should be located. If you want one, the best place, (I think) for it, is the parlor. But where in the parlor would you like to have it? I promised Mr. DeKoven that I would call him sometime this week and let hime know. Since you don’t think you’ll be able to come in this weekend, I think the best thing for me to do is to drop the entire matter.

Mom has changed her mind and is not going to New York. She also keeps asking me if we intend moving out to the new house if there is war. She seems more worried than ever and dislikes the idea of moving out to the new house. She is afraid that we won’t be able to meet the expenses which accompany the moving and settling into a new house. Besides, she says she will be too lonely. Honest, sweet, I don’t know what to think. She is right in some respects and wrong in others and I can’t say that I blame her for any ideas she may have.

How gloomy this letter sounds. Things really aren’t that bad, so cheer up, baby.

After your departure Mom  and I cleaned up the kitchen, got fixed up and sat on the porch. We talked about everything–mostly babies. About 11:30 we had some tea and then hit the hay.

Talk about getting compliments, I got 12 of them today. Everyone at work (including the bosses) complimented me on my appearance. They all thought my hair style was lovely and that I looked very “sophisticated.” I wore my black and white dress. Aren’t you proud of your wife?

Mom had to go to the Customs House today for here citizenship papers. She said that she “went through plenty of red tape” before she could leave. They asked her those questions she was supposed to memorize and she didn’t know them. She says that it didn’t really matter.

I hope the journey back was comfortable and that you arrived on time. How are you feeling? Not too tired, I hope.

I love you, sweet, and I hope that you will write as soon as possible to

Your loving wife,

“Ev”

P.S. I sprayed this letter with Toujours Moi, but the odor is very faint. It’s responsible for the blurry marks.

Monday May 26, 1941-7 PM.

Dear Ev,

Arrived safely after a very fast trip by train + taxi, getting here 10.30 P.M. Got a good night's sleep and awoke this morning feeling swell and rarin’ to go. This morning was cool and sunny after the rain and it was nice to be in the field. Everything smelled fresh and clean. I didn't even begin to feel tired until the late afternoon when it got much warmer. But I didn't have to put up with the discomfort for long, as we were through by 4.30. After chow I showered, shaved, etc; and here I am writing to you, my sweet. Incidentally, I thought you looked swell this past week-end. This week-end is still in doubt, although I did ask for a pass. A friend of Sam's was inducted here last Tuesday and he has his car here. We're going over to try to make arrangements to come in with him whenever we have leave. If it works out, it'll cost us about $2.00 each time we come in, which is quite a saving—no? There isn't much more I can write now so you'll forgive me if I seem to cut this letter short—I also want to drop Jackie a letter tonight. More tomorrow. My love to all.

Your soldier,
Phil

P.S. Just remembered to tell you I don't have the fare if I do happen to get my pass. We won't get paid til June 4. I don't feel right about this constant importuning for money, but I will give it back to you, Ev, if you'll bear with me a little while.

P.P.S. I forgot my bathing-suit after all. I'd appreciate it, sweet, if you could get it to me some time this week.

Post #10 - May 4, 1941 The First Days of Separation

Sunday May 4
8.55 A.M.

1.

My Dear Ev,

I hardly know how to start this letter, There is so much to write about. First I want you to know, sweet, that I miss you very much. All this would be a welcome change if only I knew I could still come home to you in the evening. However, we are kept very busy here and it helps immensely in keeping my mind from thoughts of home, and helps allay that empty feeling. Right now I feel like filling this whole sheet with just one phrase.—I adore you, my sweet Evelyn. Maybe that would also help, but I wouldn’t want to bore you. What you probably want to know is everything that happened since I left you That is just short of impossible, because so much has happened. What I will do is give you the high spots—the ones I remember. When I left you I went straight to the draft-board, where two fellows were already waiting. Within ten minutes seven more came in making us ten. We were then sent down to the armory by trolley. After hanging around waiting my turn to be examined, for about an hour, we were all taken out to breakfast at Linton's (right now I'm listening to “Intermezzo” over the barracks radio). After that we were all taken back to the armory. While there I got talking to a few of the fellows. We played some Pinochle to keep from getting bored - no stakes. About 3 o’clock my name was called to be examined. (I'll give you the details when I see you, sweet). Twenty minutes later I was adjudged healthy (disgustingly so) and fingerprinted. Then they marched us over  to the train. By 5:07 P. M we were on our way to Camp Lee, Va. As we filed onto the train, the Jewish Welfare handed each selectee a pack of cigarettes and a pack of “charms" candies. On the train we had a couple of fellows who kept us in stitches most of the way. As badly as we all felt we couldn't help laughing. I know quite a few of the fellows now and I don't feel quite so lonesome as I did at first. Anyhow, after riding what seemed an interminable time, but only actually was nine hours we arrived at Camps Lee; and a dustier, tireder, and more disgusted crew I never saw. We were marched straight into a building and lined up for short-arm inspection (which means that every fellow shows his penis to the medical officer). Then we were marched into the mess hall for chow. (At 2 o’clock in the morning). Finally, we were assigned to barracks and put to bed. The officers down at Camp Lee are Virginians and real soldiers, which means that they tolerate no foolishness, whatever. Consequently, when the Sergeant marched thru barracks at exactly 5:45 A.M. the same morning and yelled "hit the floor," you can bet your sweet life that's exactly what we did, as knocked out as we were. Then we were taught how to make up a bunk in one incomprehensible lesson, but we got onto it eventually. We had to, or catch some kind of hell. Then every man had to mop around and under his own bunk and clean up generally. Talk about being strict!! Even the coat-hangers had to face a certain way. I could write a book on any one of a dozen sundry subjects, like "The proper way to empty a can (spittoon),” or “Proper etiquette in an army latrine." The program that day (Wed.) was much too hectic for proper detailing. Suffice it to say that we got vaccinated, inoculated, equipped, classified and a hundred other things. Thursday was my unlucky day. I got hooked for K.P., which means I spent the day in the kitchen and mess hall. Mopping, scrubbing, dishing out food, unloading trucks and a few other things too miserable to mention. Just to make the job complete, I wasn't feeling so good, which is putting it mildly, but then, nobody else was either, so I had plenty of company. The Typhoid injection is not only a pain in the arm, if you know what I mean.—Ninety nine fellows out of a hundred felt the effects to some extent. K.P. ended at 6:30 P.M. and believe me, I was plenty happy then. After a nice hot shower and shave, however, I felt like a new man, and joined in the general pastime, which wondering where the hell we were headed for. The Sgt. told us that a group of us were to be divided between two stations—Fort Eustis in Va., and Aberdeen in Md. Immediately everyone began praying to be sent to Aberdeen. The fellows in our gang (300) were all from Pa.; and after a few days of Camps Lee, everyone was most anxious to be near home. So you can imagine, Ev, how t felt when my name wasn't on the list for Aberdeen, which I saw first. Then, on looking over the list for Ft. Eustis, I was gratified no end to see I wasn't on that, either, On checking with some of the other fellows, I found that a great number of us weren't on either list, which left us all in the dark as to where we were going; and we were supposed to leave the next day, (Fri). Then the Sgt. told us that a group of us were going to S. Carolina. I almost died. All day Friday I was miserably contemplating the prospect of spending the rest of the year in S. Carolina with hardly a chance to get home. Friday night however, we had the most delicious news I ever heard. Lt. Becker, a Philly boy and a swell guy, knowing how anxious we were to know our destination, came over and told us that all but four or five of the 300 in our group, was leaving for Ft. Meade it next day. (Sat.) When we got the lists and found this was the case, there was great rejoicing. We left Camp Lee Sat. 12.30 P.M. and arrived here at Ft. Meade, which appears to be a damn nice place as Army centers go, at about 4:30 P.M. This time I enjoyed the train ride. I played rhummy with 2 other fellows and lost 2 bits, The money incidentally, is holding out nicely. I already have most of my uniforms—including the dress. I paid $5 for a garrison cap & belt (and that's a story in itself). Today, Sunday, I am straightening my stuff out (which is a ritual in the Army) and writing this letter, which I am interrupting only long enough and when I go to chow and latrine. Which, my dear, brings us up to the present. As things stand now, everything is just beautiful. I'am feeling like a million; almost, though not quite organized, and best of all only about 110 miles from home, which is just about a short walk when you consider that I might have wound up in Va. or S. Carolina or God knows where else. Altogether, I'm pretty happy and almost content. This is our base for the whole year, although we will leave from time to time for maneuvers, war games, etc. My division is the 29th, famous in the World War as the "Rainbow Division". The oldest and best regiment of any service in the U.S., the 175th infantry, dating back to 1774. Now about seeing each other, although we are not quarantined, we are segregated for two weeks. So, although I can't be home for at least 2 weeks, we can receive visitors as early as next week-end. If, Ev, you are contemplating the trip either alone or with the family please let me know a few days ahead of time so I can make reservations for chow. Please write immediately, Ev, and let me know how everything and everyone is and what you have done since I left. If you are planning to come in, please make it Sunday, as we have most of the day to ourselves. Ask for 175th Infantry Company E, Barracks #5. If not, I'll be in May 18, unless thing out of the ordinary prevents it. In any event, I'll certainly write again. Keep your chin up, sweet, and I'll always love you. Kiss Mom and Tante Shush for me. Also your Mom & Pop. My love to everyone. Tell them to please excuse me from writing as I scarcely have time to write to you. You can tell them everything is fine. You can tell the boys that if they get past the first week in the Army, nothing can hurt them. So long, baby, and don't worry about me. I'm taking damn good care of your hubby.

Yours lovingly
Phil

Hint—Next Sunday is Mother's Day—ketch?

Fin. 3:10 P.M.

Address
Pvt. Phil Strongin 

175th inf. Comp. E 

A.P.O. #29 

Ft. Meade, Md.

Fain, 3.10 P.M.

Post #9 - May 22, 1941 A Bouquet of Pink Roses and a Scorcher

 

May 22, 1941

5:30 P.M.

Darling—

Words couldn’t express what I felt when I opened the front door, upon returning from work, & saw your letter. I felt like crying—that’s how happy I was, sweet.

Today was a “scorcher.” I think the mercury hit about 105. To make it worse, I was “sicker in sick.” Finally came through. I slept in my lunch hour, as I usually do when I am not feeling well, but this time I felt even worse. I was going to ask for permission to go home, but stuck it out. If you can, so can I.

Mr. Jaffe brought in a bunch of beautiful pink roses (from his garden) for the office. I asked him if I could have a few to take home to Mom & he gave me the whole bunch.  He said he would bring more in—if he remembered. Mom thought they were lovely.

I am enclosing two dollars to tide you over until I see you. I hope it’s enough. I’ll give you the rest when you come in. (Inducement)

I put a little picture of you (one I had) in the pin & have been wearing it. Mr. Jaffe said that I should get a picture of you “in uniform” for it. We’ll see.

I’ll give Sam’s girl a call the first chance I get. I doubt if it will be before next week. I’m very glad that Lil wrote to you. She said she might join the Army & choose Ft. Meade as her station, but Eddie said there would be a “triangle.” At least you’re learning who will take a few moments to drop you a line. Then, again, most people are just too lazy to write.

Your Mom just commented on how I look. She contends that when I am unwell I look better than when I am well. Can you beat it! Oh well, it’s still a compliment. She is definitely going to New York as I send back a card saying she would be at Rose’s wedding.

Harry asked me if we could go to the race track Memorial Day, but I informed him that we were broke. However, I did say that we might consider it on July 4th.

Jake tells me that Evette is the same type as I. He also says that he cares for her more than any other girl he ever went with. That guy has me thinking. I’m afraid he’s got it—but bad. He doesn’t stop talking about her.

I stayed in last night—did some washing & ironing—for a change. I’m going to take it easy tonight. In the meantime, take it easy & take care of yourself—we all love you. So long, baby, til Saturday—when you’ll see

Your lovin’ wife,

“Ev”

P.S. How is your “crease” holdin’ out? I’ll press it again when you are in.

P.P.S. Here is one of Ben’s jokes. If an Irish woman married a negro, what would her children be? Answer—Irish jigs. Don’t blame me, I was only trying to cheer you up.

P.P.S. Tonight marks our ninth week of married life. Imagine! Nine weeks.

P.P.P.S. I always think of something after I end my letter.

Thursday May 22, 1941
7.00 P.M

Dear Chippie,

Just to prove to you that wonders never cease here I am writing again. It was a thrill to receive two letters from you today. The first one was sent to the wrong camp, and arrived simultaneously with the one you mailed yesterday. I was glad to hear of Sam and Ann Nerenberg's good fortune. I am disappointed because Jack hasn't written yet. I intended to write to him today but decided you were more deserving. It's much too hot to write two letters. The heat is simply terrific. We spent most of the after- noon looking for shady spots and the group games that were scheduled for the last hour were called off. The Lieutenant was afraid some of the fellows would get sunstroke (I heard him say so). Last night Sam & I took some pictures. The first two I took so were n.g. so I tried again, and it's just fair. You should have seen the company put away 35 gallons of lemonade at mess tonight. Everyone half-dead of thirst & I’ll bet that no soldier in the outfit had less than a quart. I'm feeling pretty good now and getting so that I can take the grind with not too much ill-effect. In the evening after I take my shower, I feel swell. Just one more day before Saturday, my sweet, and unless something unpredictable happens to hold up our passes, I'll be seeing you then. I'm anxious to see and hear about the pearls what Mark had to say. I would like to have him for Saturday dinner. You might try asking him. What puzzles me, is how you got in touch with him. My guess is that you called him at the place. It just occurred to me that you probably won't get this until Saturday afternoon, in which case you may have difficulty in contacting Mark. But, if by some chance you do get this in time to call him at work Friday, tell him to bring Adams along. The fact that everyone is fine and the house is coming along nicely gratifies me no end. I can hardly wait to talk to you, sweet, but one thing they do a good job of teaching you in the Army—is patience. So—I'll try very hard to hold my breath until then. We have a four hour march and (bivouac—(pitching tents), tomorrow so I think I'll turn in early (if I can stop perspiring) and get plenty of rest. Take care of yourself, sweet, and give my love to all—and never stop being so considerate of your loving husband

Phil