Post #20 - June 11, 1941 A Solo Trip to the Movies and Snoozing Through the Racket

June 11, 1941 

6:30 P.M.

Phil, dear: 

It's always a pleasure to receive mail from you; more so on Wednesday evening, as it means the week is drawing to a close and you will soon be home with us. As you know, I have been “on the go” for the past two evenings, what with going to Lil’s and taking in a movie, which left me very little time to write to you, sweet. Somehow I managed to inform you of my whereabouts, knowing you would be disappointed if I failed to write. Tonight, however, I intend to write a nice long letter, summarizing my adventures? and thoughts since our temporary parting on Sunday night. Ready! Here I go.

Everything happened so quickly Sunday evening that I didn't have a chance to feel anything—until the train taking you away from me was out of sight. I felt heartsick, so much so that I found myself crying on the way home (in the car). I wanted you more than you'll ever know (sigh). Having related what occurred in my previous letters, I'll continue with Lil. I don't know whether to write about her at all. No sooner do I write one thing when “Bang,” she suddenly reverses her decision. I called her from the office today to learn that she had again changed her mind about going to Camp. She had packed all her belongings and Jack had put a “For Rent” sign in the window. Evidently Eddie has come through, for Lil told me that he wants her more than anything in the world. At the moment Jack is papering her apartment and she is unpacking, having decided to keep the apartment. Rather than explain the conglomeration of decisions, indecisions, and what have you, repeatedly, I politely told Lil to write you daily, giving the up-to-the-minute news about Levy vs. Stalinsky. 

Tuesday evening Mom and I decided we would go to the movies if harry would drive us to 60th St. The Weinmans and our Harry were going to visit Ethel. I had started writing a letter to you when Mom burst into the kitchen shouting excitedly. Hurry, hurry, the Weinmans are waiting for us. I finished your letter hurriedly and proceeded to apply fresh makeup, whereupon Mickey, Harry W. and Tant walked in and very angrily retorted, “What's the idea of making us wait.” Everyone began shouting at everyone else (some fun); I didn't know what the hell they were hot about. It seems as tho’ the Weinmans were perturbed because they had to wait for Mom and me. Finally, we all piled into the car. Our harry then said, “it's too darn late to go to Ethel's, and the Weinmans agreed. (It was almost eight.) Five seconds later they started for Ethel’s.

They refused to drop us off at 60th St., so I got out of the car, told Mom to go with them (she wanted to take a ride anyway) and started for the movies alone. The evening wasn't spoiled, by any means, as I enjoyed the picture immensely, even though I disliked going by myself. I got home at 11 feeling knocked-out and blue and went right to bed. 

Lil's flowers are still fresh, in fact the fragrance and perfumes can still be detected throughout the apartment. Talk about surprises, a paperhanger came today and papered the bathroom. You should see it now, it really looks like sumpin’. uh huh! At any rate, it is now after 9 and I have a few other minor tasks to attend to before turning in. Just to show you I'm a sport, I'll take a few more minutes to write, “I love you, baby.” Regards and love from all, again including

Your mouthpiece 

and ever lovin’ wife 

“Ev”

P.S. Today is a red letter day for you. This is my second communication in 24 hours.

Wed., June 11 

7:30 

My Darling, 

Today was a honey. We were on the range as scheduled, but didn't fire a shot all day. You see they bring the men up to the “firing line” alphabetically and since I am near the end in the order, I didn't get to fire. I think, though, that tomorrow I'll complete my tests. Sam didn't shoot either, so we loafed around and “chinned” most of the day. We even got in an hour's sleep in the late afternoon. You'd marvel at the way we snooze through the racket of what sounded like a major engagement, on the hard, hard ground with our packs for pillows. Still it's small wonder, ’cause they get us up at 4:30 now. After mess I got my laundry, showered, shaved and dressed, which brings us up to the present moment. The barracks resembles a girl's dormitory. The fellows (most of them) are going to the company dance, and they're excited and all a-flutter, primping and posing for one another. The girls are coming in from Baltimore and it promises to be a pretty nice affair. I hope the boys have a good time, they certainly deserve it. About Morty Greitzer, keep me informed. I'm hoping he'll be sent here. Sam and I are going out for a walk now before we turn in, so I'll say good-night, my sweet, until tomorrow. My love to the family. 

Lovingly, 

Phil

Post #19 - June 10, 1941 A Friend’s Change of Heart and The Wrong End of the Target Range

June 10, 1941
7:10 P.M. 

My dear hubby:

Having helped Mom with the supper dishes, I am now at liberty to write. Right at the moment Mom and I are planning to see “So Ends Our Night” at the Imperial, but Mom doesn't want to walk to 60th St. I'll probably go alone.

I had a very nice time last night at Lil's. She's very good company. We talked (for a change) and Lil admitted that her “new” decision (she's going to camp after all) was due mostly to us. After seeing our home, the way we plan in the face of an uncertain future and our love for each other, she decided that Eddie is definitely not the one. She claims she is sure about her feelings, but I think she is in a quandary when it comes to action. I sincerely hope things work out well for her. Morty Greitzer reported for induction today—was given 10 days more (new law). He passed the physical exam and definitely goes on June 20th. I called Anna Presti last night. She says she will be truly disappointed if we fail to show up. She said to come regardless of the time. I told her not to count on it. The weather has been delightfully cool and pleasant for the past 48 hours. How's the weatherman been treating you? Good I hope. You don't have a black eye yet, do you? (target practice) We're getting a ride to the Imperial and I'm being paged. Just time to say I love you, sweet. 

Your loving wife
 “Ev”

Tuesday, June 10, 1941 

7:15 

Dear Ev, 

Just as you say another day has fled into oblivion and since we are well into the week, I'm sorta anticipating this week-end. Today I was tagged for “pit detail,” which is the wrong end of the target range. Remind me to describe the workings of the range to you. I think you will find it interesting. Received your letter this evening and was sorry to hear you didn't make a movie after all. Lil's candy arrived with a nice letter. Tonight I'm going to be very busy sending my “chinos” to the tailor, taking a shower, polishing my shoes and writing this will take the better part of the night. The only one of these chores I enjoy is “writing this.” I honestly believe, Ev, if i failed to write some night, I could not sleep. It's gotten to be a habit—but a good one. The only drawback is that I usually write immediately after supper and all my work is ahead of me. Therefore, although I'd have no trouble at all filling a few of these pages nightly, the tendency on my part is to shorten and condense my letters. Then again the thought in the back of my mind is: if i tell Ev everything that goes on in the course of the week, there will be nothing to relate when I see her. So you must agree, sweet, that the real purpose of these daily letters is not so much to keep you informed of my doings, but to let you know that you are constantly in my heart and mind. So much so that nothing means anything except how it affects us. Give my love to Mom and the boys. Good night, Sweet. 

Phil

Post #18 - June 9, 1941 Vivian Leigh “Gone With the Wind” Patchwork Quilt and Good Marksmanship

June 9, 1941 

8:15 P.M.

My dearest Phil: 

After your departure Jack and I were safely deposited at 52nd and Market Streets by the Glasers. While in the car we decided to go to the Belmont to see Primrose Path and Lone Wolf Takes a Trip. It was exactly 9:45 when we reached the Belmont—too late. Primrose Path had but 20 minutes to go. We went right back home. Mom and Tante Shush didn't go to the movies after all. Jack and I had malteds at Sam's and then I hit the hay. Today Lil met me at 12:15 and insisted upon treating me to a decent lunch (as she called it). Immediately after lunch I took her up to the rest room at the Morris Building where we relaxed and gabbed about “unimportant things.” Lil begged me to come out for supper, but I refused. However, the thought of being alone made me reconsider. So here I am, sweet, writing to you, while Lil is busily occupied cleaning up the mess. Lil finally took her wrist watch out of the pawn shop—finally. (I hope). We also now have in our possession one genuine Vivian Leigh Gone With The Wind patchwork quilt. (Lil got it from a patient who makes them.) It's very, very attractive. It is very colorful having various tones of red, pink, blue, and green blended together and fashioned into designs against the white background. Maybe I'm prejudiced but I think no quilt has oomph unless you're under it—with me. Ditto Lil. Eddie has promised to drive me home. One day away from you has passed into oblivion—bringing you just a little closer to the one who loves you dearly—

Your wife, 

“Ev” 

P.S. I didn't forget the stamps.

Monday, June 9, 1941 

6:30

My Dear, 

Last night when the train started so suddenly and tore you away from me before we had a chance to wish each other a decent “Auf Wiedersehn,” I was so mortified I wanted to yell out my disappointment. I felt if I would that some of the heaviness that came into my chest would be dispelled. Sam and I kept walking through the train until we found seats. The air-conditioned car was so cool that I felt my cold getting rapidly worse. By the time we reached camp I was pretty well congested and feared that I would be pretty sick this morning. However, my apprehensions were groundless, for I awoke feeling pretty good. We were up a half hour earlier this morning (4:30 A.M.) because there were a lot of details to be attended before we left for the Range. We spent the whole day there and it wasn't a half-bad. As a matter of fact, I almost enjoyed it. Incidentally I'm still looking for the guy who made a better score than I. Of course there were a few. But the only one I've heard was the 51 that West (the ex-marine) shot. My score was 41 out of a possible 60, which for a rank novice like myself, is pretty fair shootin’. Tomorrow we shoot rapid fire and just between you and me, I don't think I'll do so good at that. However I'm going to be trying my best. Tonight we're going to be pretty busy cleaning up, but if we finish in time, Sam and I may take in a movie. The chances are, though, we won't. There isn't much else I can write, dear, except to apologize for forgetting to give you the candy. If you could see how much we appreciate these sweets, I know you'd forgive me. Lil's candies haven't arrived yet.

Did you and Jake get to a movie? How did Mom like the “Dictator”? Ed's yelling for his pen, so i'll sign off for tonight with love to all. Yes, you too, sweet. 

Your 

Phil

P.S. Please don't forget to remember the stamps. Thank you!

Post #17 - June 4, 1941 Good Mood, Good Malted and a Good Day

June 4, 1941
6:55 P.M. 

Dearest Phil:

I'm in a very good mood this evening. Know why? Right! I got a letter from my beloved. I spent the past evening with Jakie, Harriet and Eddie. We kibitzed, jitterbugged, sang (the neighbors told us it was Anti-Noise week) and Jakie treated me to one of those delicious malteds. At work today I called Mr. DeKoven. To my bitter disappointment, he informed me that the homes in Walnut Hill Park will not be ready for occupancy until August or September. In fact he's not even sure of those months. He told me to send him a letter authorizing him to install the plugs and bars in the bathroom. I'm going to write that letter as soon as I finish this one. Incidentally, he said that we cannot move into the house or even make settlement without you. I told him that this placed us at a disadvantage since you must know exactly when to obtain leave. He said he would let me know when he was definite about the settlement date. So it looks as though we are going to be at the apartment longer than we had anticipated. By the way, did Jack Nerenberg send you a letter? If I remember clearly, you got paid today. All of which reminds me that the insurance man was here and mom told him to come next week to collect for two months. This means that if you are unable for any reason to get home this week-end that you should send at least five dollars in the mail, which I will return at a later date.

Morty Greitzer is scheduled to begin Army life on June 10, 1941 and he's praying to be sent to Meade. It poured cats and dogs all day. It also was the darkest, bleakest and gloomiest (some adjectives) day I've seen for quite some time. It was very sweet of you to pay me such a lovely compliment. I certainly do appreciate it. I couldn't help noting that proud look in your eyes and it always makes me happy. I might add that it also takes a good-looking fellow like you to attract attention, which you usually do. I'm keeping my fingers crossed and hoping that you will be in this weekend. In the meantime, I'll content myself with the fact that I am, 

Yours
“Ev” 

P.S. Mom sends her love and best regards.

Wednesday, June 4—5 45 P.M.

Darling, 

Jackie's letter and yours arrived simultaneously this evening and I had a lot of fun reading them. Right this instant I'm feeling pretty high. How come? Well, lend and ear, sweet, and I'll tell you all about it. Last night I was handed the “Barracks Orderly” assignment for today. So early this morning right after mess, I took up my duties which were as follows: First i parked myself on a foot-locker equipped with pad and pen. Then I proceeded to write three good sized letters to your mother, Lil and Etta. This little task took me ’til 11 o'clock and time for lunch. After lunch I fixed the hot water boiler. Then I parked myself on the foot-locker again, this time equipped with a magazine, which I put down only twice before 3:30 to check the fire. At 3:30 I was told to go get my pay. You can bet that worked no hardship on me. I had to stand in line and wait my turn (they pay off alphabetically) which took ’til 4:00. From then on it was gravy. I laid on my bunk and took a nap for about an hour. Then the letters arrived and I spent some time reading and re-reading them. If I come in this weekend, I'll bring Jack's letter with me. You'll enjoy it, I know. The rain which has been falling intermittently for a week here shows no signs of letting up. But the boys don't seem to mind it after a month of sweltering in the sun and eating dust every time we marched a few steps. It certainly is a relief to have some cooling rain. I’m for it. I was going to the movies tonight to sort of celebrate pay day, but it's raining too hard. So I'll probably finish off my strenuous?? day by taking it easy for a few hours and turn in early.

What you wrote about Jack and Lucky was certainly surprising, to say the least. I wouldn't attempt to account for it, but I'd like to believe that it was because Jack was wearing my shoes. I gather Limey was turned down by the draft board, but you neglected to tell me what his classification is (or doesn't he know yet?) Glad to hear that Tony and Ann have decided to get the ball rolling. Maybe we'll be fortunate enough to get to the affair. Well dear, I'm just about out of words, but just to show you my heart's in the right place, here are a few more—I love you, my sweet.

Phil

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