Post #253 - December 18, 1943 In My Heart There is Sunshine and Blue Skies

 

December 18, 1943

Dearest Evvie,

It is cold and raining and generally miserable outside, but it affects me not at all. I'm more or less accustomed to dreary weather over here. Besides, who gives a damn about the weather? I have two freshly received letters before me and in my heart there is sunshine and blue skies. The letters are dated 4 Nov. (V-mail) and 9th of Nov. (Air-mail). Very strange and unfathomable are the ways of God and the Post Office. (Why that's good, think I'll write a book). Usually the V-mail is more recent than the Air-mail, but today—vice versa. 

By all means, Sweet, buy Helen's fur coat. I see it as clearly as though it were before me. What's more, I remember how you looked in it—you tried it on, you know, the very first time you saw it. The picture of you in that. d-i-r-n-d-l [dirndl] style coat is very pretty indeed, and I'd love for you to have it. Fifty dollars off the bankroll now won't be as sorely missed now as it will be later, Chippie and what are all these “many other things to buy” that you mention? Too, I intend to send you all the money I have above my basic needs on New Year's Day. I figure it will be 40 or 50 dollars. I'd like nothing better than having you use it to pay for the coat. If there's a suspicion in your mind that I'm trying to inveigle you into this in the hope that it will save me the price of a new fur coat later on—forget it 'cause you know darn well, Baby, that you are perfectly welcome to spend our last dollar for anything, anytime you see fit. No, darling don't think for a minute that I'm through buying you fur coats after this one. Just hope that I'll be able to afford them, and you can rest assured that I'll take the keenest delight in buying them for you. So forget your native aversion to spending money, and tell Helen you'll buy her coat—and thanks. The news that you finally sprung and bought yourself a new suit was music to my ears, (eyes?).—for more reasons than one. In the first place, it does my heart good to know that you have acquired something that you have wanted for a long time, and in the second place it proves to me, better than any overt evidences, that your morale and your hopes are not suffering too grievously in my absence. As long as you evince the desire for new things and new places, your state of mind is healthy and normal, and no one knows better than I, how close you have been to the opposite category—despair and hopelessness. That coffee table you mentioned sounds like a good buy to me, and if your mother doesn't acquire it, I think you should. I'm surprised that your sharp business acumen deserted you in this instance. You know that eventually we will spend 40 or 50 dollars for something very like it. You should have bought it if you liked it. And mentally computed a saving of some $35. 00. (Or is that “hay”?) Don't worry too much about spending our reserves, there are more where they came from. Which all reminds me of something I had meant to discuss in previous letters, but always managed to forget. If you have been reading the papers, you will know that plans are already in advanced stages for ensuring the immediate future of demobilized servicemen. The talk now is about going giving ex-soldiers from three to five-hundred dollars (depending on length of service, domestic and overseas). Besides, there is a long-range program of social security for everyone in the offing. The plan that most interested me, however, is the one whereby, upon demobilization, a soldier (married with one child) would receive $80.00 per month for one year while taking a course at a nearby college or university in any subject he might desire. My thought was (and is) that a year of schooling in journalism, while my family was being provided for, [well, almost) $20 per week] might set me on the road I wish to go. I realize that there are obstacles to be overcome, but I'm hoping that I'll be able to take advantage of the opportunity if and when it materializes. The point I'm getting at, though, is that you should shouldn't sacrifice too much of the present to the future, which usually manages to take care of itself. I trust your sense of values implicitly, Chippie, to influence you or dictate to you the advisability of buying anything at anytime, so don't look to me for an O.K. Your O.K. is plenty good enough for me. This “Royal Dalton” ware that you seem to think I can buy here in England is new to me, but that's beside the point. Granted, I had enough cash on me to purchase, (very unlikely, since I send all my spare cash to you) how in the world could I send it home? Even if I were permitted to post anything so bulky and heavy, I’d probably have to lug it back to camp from London ’cause we can't mail anything except from our own Post Office. Altogether, though, I'm not exactly sure of my facts, but I mean to investigate the possibilities and if it can be done, why I'll do it, O.K.? 

I forgot to say that brother Jack’s V-mail was enclosed, but he doesn't tell us a helluva lot, does he? However, the fact that he is concerned with sketching augurs well for his morale and health and general peace of mind. I would like to know where he is though, and what the hell he is doing besides drawing his buddies’ pusses. Why the devil doesn't he write to me? Or has he forgotten his big brudder? 

I have been so busy in the Orderly Room ever since I took over as Personnel Clerk that I have no time at all for my own affairs—worse luck!  The evenings are invariably taken up by my correspondence with you. Currently, I'm in the throes of overhauling the filing system here (it's a mess) as I did previously in the Station Ordnance office, but it's going to take longer than I at first thought. In the meantime, I have been unable to find the time to answer Red’s letter. Of course, I could sacrifice one of “your” letters to get one off to him, but I find myself unwilling to do so. I can't feel too guilty about it though, 'cause he took his sweet time about sending me the first letter. No doubt the opportunity to get off a reply will present itself within the next week. I shall forward your best regards at that time, Baby. 

Tomorrow I'm off to London again, as I told you yesterday, and I hope to “get around” sufficiently to make the “write up” interesting reading. By the way, you didn't tell me anything about “Kiss and Tell,” except that Harry and Milton paid your way. How’s about it, Chippie? (Sometime when you're stuck for words, huh?) 

On reading over your letter, I know that you would like “something from England as a remembrance.” Do you think for a minute that I'll come home empty handed? Foolish girl? 

You didn't know I had to do K.P.? Since when? Why, since the 1st Sergeant decided that T/5’s would pull K.P.—that’s since when. 

Did I remember to get down on my knees and beg you to take a nice (not a snapshot!!) picture in your new suit? I didn't? Then I do so now—see? 

I've been waiting patiently to hear that you have bought or intend to buy or even might buy Xmas presents for the folks with “my” 50 bucks. Not a word! Why! And what about the Indian sweaters I so nicely asked you to make for yourself and the punkin’?—and you bawl me out for neglecting to answer your questions! Don't misunderstand, Baby, I don't mean to impose on you. If you find it into trying (I can remember when you enjoyed “knitting”), why just forget it. All I'm asking is that you tell me about it. Ferstay? 

Just found out that my V-mail letter to Richie never left the station. It seems one can't send V-mail to someone in England, so it has been laying in one of the other huts for a whole month now. Am I burnt up?!! No wonder I haven't heard from him! I'll stick it in an envelope and mail it out right now. Fortunately, I wrote “free mail” to Eddie. With so many of the old gang over here, I can't understand why no one has contacted me. Oh well, maybe they will yet. And now, my darling, I'll say “Au revoir”—with all my love to you and the cherub, and my love to all. I am

(Courtesy Sgt. Trombetti) (Copyright pending)

Your lover as always,

Phil

Post #252 - December 17, 1943 I’m Even More Sorry Than You, Chippie, That I Was Unable to Attend My Daughter’s First Birthday

 

December 17, 1943. 

Darling, Baby. 

I thought you were through writing anything but V-mail; especially since my file contains letters for every day in the past few months. Imagine my surprise and gratification, then, when I received your long 5-page typewritten letter of November 22-23. As if this weren't enough—there was Mrs. Benis’ letter enclosed. There was a letter from Ruthie too. Definitely one of my better days. Your letter, Sweet was intimate, cheery, and altogether a delight to read. Thanks a million, Baby, for taking the time and trouble to write so long and so well for your ever-lovin’ hubby's benefit. It made me very happy to know that you are getting out and around these days; visiting our old friends, going to the theatre and the movies, etc. I like to think of you enjoying yourself, Honey, so do us both a good turn by continuing to “get around.” I'm even more sorry than you, Chippie, that I was unable to attend my daughter’s first birthday, but I have every hope of being there when the second rolls around. I can't, for the life of me, understand why Lil and Myra are sulking. I'm sure you couldn't intentionally do anything that might hurt their feelings. If they harbor a grudge, it must be because of some misunderstanding on their part. Hope they take the trouble to straighten it all out. Excuse me, Honey; four of the boys want me to make up a fifth for a poker game, and since you have given me the “go ahead” signal and because I hate to spoil their fun (to say nothing of my own) I’ll indulge. Wish me luck Chippie— 

Well, that didn't take long. We played exactly 20 minutes. The game broke up at the end of that time because two of the guys went broke. As a matter of fact, everyone lost but Strongin,—he came out of it eight dollars richer. Not a bad 20 minutes “work,” eh? Now where was I before I was so rudely interrupted? Oh yes, I’d just finished talking about the unusual behavior of Lil and Myra. I think I've exhausted the subject. Let's talk about the punkin’ awhile. Did you get her new shoes yet? Those bunny slippers sound mighty cute, did you buy them? I'm not surprised you're still receiving compliments on Adele's blue outfit—it certainly is a honey. Why do you ask me whether or not you ought to enter Adele in Wolpe’s contest? You knew that you couldn't possibly receive my answer in time. Not that I care—one way or the other, understand. I don't see any point in it, but on the other hand, it can't harm anyone either. Since you did enter her, though, I wish both her and you luck (not that she'll need it with her looks). Don't you think she's a little too heavy for her age, Sweet? She appeared just a little too plump for my liking in that last batch of snapshots. Remember, I don't care for fat babies—don't let her get that way if you can possibly avoid it. I guess she's taking more than eight steps at a time by now, bless her. li’l heart. Why don't you tell me more about yourself, Chippie? Have you gained any weight lately? What do you weigh now? How are you feeling? Generally your query about my chances for making T/4 came as no surprise. I was wondering how long it would be before you got around to asking it. At the same time, I was wondering how I would answer it. I think I'll resort to the universal or stock phrase around here—“I don't know what to tell you”—(and I don’t). Maybe—maybe not. Day after tomorrow I'm slated to go on pass again and I'm looking forward to it. Tell you all about it first chance, I get, Baby, so if a day or two elapses between my letters, you'll understand why. Nothing of interest has occurred around here today and I'm just about “wrote out.” Tell Mom I'm still waiting for her letter. My love to all my folks. My best regards to the neighbors with a special wish that Mr. Frommer suffers no after-effects from his accident. Kiss my daughter for me. What can I say to you, darling, to convey the full extent and depth of my love for you? Remember how much I loved you last time I was “home”? Well, that's how much I love you now, in addition to the longing that can only be measured by the miles between us. I adore you, Angel. I am just as then 

Your loving husband,
Phil 

Post #251 - December 16, 1943 Jack N. Must Be Having a Pretty Tough Time of It in the Colorado Rockies

 

December 16, 1943 

My Adorable, 

Again I must apologize for not writing. Last night I was in an unusually grumpy mood. (maybe it was because I hadn't received any mail for four days) and writing just wasn't in me. Tonight, though, I'm feeling much better, thank you, due to a coupla “morale lifters”: (1) Received a $15.00 check from S & D (2) Received a letter (Vmail—Dec.1) from you (3) Saw a swell show tonight. Besides, I put in a lotta work today, and that always makes me feel good. The $15.00 will be included in your next monthly “allowance,” Baby, and I wish you'd use it to buy a new dress or two. I know you need them by now, so don't begrudge the money, Chippie. You mention a shopping trip with Fay and Ellie (my best to them, by the way), but you neglected to say what you were shopping for. Guess I'll have to wait for your next to find out. Oh well, I may as well wait—I'm not going anyplace for the next year or two (I'm only kiddin’). Did I mention receiving Jack N.’s letter along with yours? He must be having a pretty tough time of it in the Colorado Rockies. Incidentally, that long letter he asked me to write was already on the way when he wrote, so I'm still one-up on him. I'll wait for a reply to that one before I write again. I'm glad, Chippie, that you set me right on your working so steadily for Miss Hahn. I hope you don't change your mind about quitting after Christmas. I don't have to enlarge on my views in this matter, Sweet, you know them well by now. ’Nuff said? You mention the absorbing fact that Adele discovered her “belly button.” I'm surprised at your loose choice of words, dear, don't you mean her “navel”? (listen to him!) And don’t you mean she “rediscovered” her whatchamacallit? Seems to me you wrote that same sentence a long time ago—or am I dreaming? At any rate, I (whatsamatter with me tonight?) bet she's as funny as a barrel o’ monkeys when she squeals her delight at her great “discovery.” (I can see her very plainly, Sweet, never fear.) That doesn't make me any less anxious to see her latest pictures, though. C’mon Xmas! I think they should be here by then. The USO show tonight was the usual very entertaining blend of music, comedy, dancing and singing. There were three girls in the show, all taller than average and all pretty. The MC, as usual, was the hub of the show, he monopolized the stage most of the time, but he was funny—and went over big with the GIs. Received the first letter from Red this afternoon. He’s still in hospital. He sends his best to you and asks after the punkin’. 

As for me, I'm sending you all the love that's in me (and believe me it's more than considerable) and my fondest thoughts are reserved for the cherub. Keep well, and happy, my Angels. My love to Mom, all the Pallers, all the Strongins and all the neighbors. My deepest sympathy to the Frommers in their adversity. Tell “Pop” to get well quick. Cheerio, my Sweet.

Devotedly, 
Your Phil

Post #250 - December 15, 1943 Today Was that Typical Routine Day for Me

 

December 15, 1943 

My Sweet,

The mail is slow coming through again. I have not received a letter in three days and I'm hard put today for things to say. Today was that typical routine day for me, again with nothing intervening to vary the sameness of the pattern. After supper (which I didn't eat), Captain Burdine and I went off to the movie, which was hardly worth seeing again, but which I preferred to laying around the barracks. The picture was “Lady of Burlesque.” Afterward, we stopped at the snack bar where we had toasted cheese sandwiches, which were tasty, and believe it or not—ICE CREAM, vanilla with chocolate syrup. Then back here to write this. Sorry, my experiences aren't more diverting, Baby, but that's the way it is. 

In a few minutes, I'll be going to bed. It will be 10:30. I’ll lay awake a while and try to picture you and try to guess what you are doing at that particular moment. It will then be 5:30 P.M. where you are. In another few minutes, I'll be fast asleep and, perhaps, if I'm lucky, I'll see you in my dreams. Goodnight, sweet Evvie. Kiss Adele for me, her adoring daddy. Love to all from 

Your Phil

Post #249 - December 12, 1943 I Was Busy All Day, and On Duty All Night

 

December 12, 1943 

Dearest Chippie,

Sorry I was unable to write yesterday, but time didn't permit as I was busy all day, and on duty all night. Naturally, I was off duty today, and I took full advantage of it by sleeping until 4 p.m. At 4:45 I went for my first meal of the day. That is, after I shaved and washed up. This evening there was a picture scheduled to be shown at the theater, and four of us went down to see it, but for some reason or other the operator didn't show up. After determining that there would be no show, we wandered over to the snack bar where we sat around and munched on French toast and drank “Cokes.” Tiring of this, we came back to our hut, where we built a fire and crowded around the stove for a “bull-session.” For a while the discussions waxed enthusiastic, but it's getting late now—everyone is sleepy and preparing to hit the hay. Me too— Good night for now, my lovely. A kiss for the punkin. My love to all. 

Your Phil

Post #248 - December 10, 1943 Where Do I Get Everything I Own Right Now? From the U.S. Army, of Course

 

December 10, 1943 

My own Chippie,

Hooray! Hit the “jackpot” today! No less than eight lovely, luscious letters. The dates: November 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 20, 26 (V-mail). This brings my mail up to date to November 28th. Please don't expect me to answer each letter individually, Sweet, ’cause there just isn't enough time. However, I will comment on some of the more interesting phases of your letters. First, about the snapshots; Except for that one picture you mentioned (head turned and smiling) Adele is a chunky little miss dressed in a stunning outfit—and that's about all. But, that one snap you single out for your praise is really worthy of your nicest adjectives. It has the added quality of charm. I expected the “outfit” to be attractive from your descriptions, but I wasn't prepared for the actual beauty and richness of the ensemble. It is far and away the nicest thing of its kind I have ever seen. It was good to see your dear countenance in one of the pictures, Sweet, and at the instant of recognition, I felt a tug at the old heart strings. Am I fancying it, Baby, or are you losing weight again? Why didn't you let Wolpe make a picture of you, too, Chippie? The last few snapshots of you didn't do you justic— at all. Are you running yourself ragged again? Sorry to hear that the cherub was so much trouble when she caught cold. Poor dear, she certainly didn't allow you much peace. On the other hand, you did get out on two occasions and I'm tickled you had a good time. Some day, Sweetheart, we certainly will go to the plays together as you say. In the meantime, try to put aside the notion that the edge is taken off your pleasure because we can't be “together.” Enjoy the play, or the movie, or whatever the entertainment happens to be for the sake of entertainment alone. I'm truly sorry that the thought of me so far from you brings on the blues when you should be enjoying yourself. Although I admit to the same feeling, Sweet, I will say that I have made an effort to enjoy myself without mental reservations. Don't give in to that sad, sweet longing—fight it and enjoy yourself. I can understand your reluctance to go shopping for new dresses at this time, but if you're going to get around more I'd much rather you bought some new things. You're not being fair to yourself in denying yourself to the point of boredom in wearing the same dresses over and over again. I'm sure you can see your way clear to spending a few dollars for a new dress or two. If you persist in your attitude of self-denial, I cannot help but consider it a personal affront; and I shall want to know how come? Don't forget that your income is as much—or more than it ever was, and I won't tolerate your skimping on yourself. I take the same pride in your appearance that I take in my own, so please, Chippie don’t let me down in this respect. Thanks, dear, for your kind praise of my little offering. It was entirely and exclusively meant for your edification, and if it pleased you, then I'm delighted; but your notion to submit it to a publisher is ill-advised, to say the least. Take it for your own, Baby, and don't for a moment consider making any move that can only lead to disillusionment.  You think it's good? Fine! Let it go at that, Sweet, ’cause it really isn't “good” as a qualified critic would see it; but then, as I said before it was meant for your appreciation only. Understand?  Thanks, too, Sweet, for the addresses of the two Eddies (P and S) and the news that the third Eddie (Strongin) is probably on his way over here. Tomorrow, bright and early, I'll send off letters to the newly acquired addresses. This afternoon I wrote to the Browns and Dot and Snuff. I still have to write to Mickey and Ray and I will at the next opportunity. Your puzzlement at the source of my bicycle amused me. I didn't intentionally overlook your query, dear, but I thought the answer was so obvious that it didn’t rate an explanation. Where do I get everything I own right now? From the US Army, of course—and that's where I got the bike. As a matter of fact, almost everyone in the company has one. O.K.? Sorry I can't continue with this, Honey, but it's time for lights out,  so “Goodnight, Sweetheart, ‘til we meet tomorrow—” 

Lovingly,
Your Phil

 P.S. my best love to all—but certainly!

Post #247 - December 9, 1943 For Me—It Was Glorious—All of It

 

December 9, 1943
Sweetheart Mine

Here I am again on the new stationary. So dull a day has it been that I don't know just where to begin or what to tell you. I was very busy again today and the time flew. This evening, there is no show and because I ate two big meals instead of the customary one, there is no point in going to the snack bar. We are toasting the last of the marshmallows, and I sure hate to see them go, they were that good! I managed to find a few moments to bang out a thank you note to Sharpe & Dohme. I hope to get the rest of them off tonight. There hasn't been any mail from you for 5 days now and I'm looking forward to a “jackpot” again. Hope I hear from Ed and Richie before my next pass comes around December 19th. If I do—I'll spend the two days visiting. 

Well, Chippie, it’s more than four months now since I saw you last, but aside from missing you terribly, I'm none the worse for wear. If I came home tomorrow, I think you wouldn't have any trouble at all recognizing your “old flame.” As far as I can see I haven't changed in any way in that time. I try to keep my mind as free from worry and care as it is in my power to do. Can you say the same, Sweet? Your state of mind and health is a prime concern to me and although your letters are largely cheerful, I'm wondering if that is your attitude through the bulk of the days. Tell me frankly, Baby; what frame of mind are you usually in? Has Adele helped to keep you mentally as well as physically occupied? Is your affection for her as pronounced and all-pervading as that you used to lavish on me? Remember my long-ago expressed hope that Adele would become the object of your manifest affections—the foil for your great capacity and need for bestowing your love? Your contention at that time was that as much as you loved her, she would never fill that specific spot in your heart that was reserved for your husband, and I was gratified no end by that particular little speech, but I would very much like to hear you admit that she has been a comfort to you in my absence. I long to hear you say that you are glad now that we conceived her when we did, in spite of your decrying the fact that she has been virtually fatherless in her first year. I long to hear you say it ’cause I can't forget that once you regretted it. I don't remember whether you admitted it in so many words, but I do know that I felt that was your feeling in the matter. I don't know if you realized at the time how that rankled within me, but now that you have had the time to think it over, and the opportunity to make up your mind, I'm more than anxious to know the verdict. What is it, Darling? I fully appreciate the joys (and trials) I am missing by being far from my baby, but I can truthfully say that, for my part, I wouldn't change any part of the history of the three of us if I could live it all over again, (unless I could, in some way, spare you the pain of the birth itself). For me—it was glorious—all of it. I would have given anything at the time to have been able to bear all or part of the burden and pain that was your lot in bearing our child. I can't help feeling unworthy of the blessing that is our adorable little Adele—so little did I “pay” for her. Believe me, Baby, I’ll consider no price too high, once I am in a position to make myself worthy and deserving of her—and you. God bless and keep you both, my darlings—for your adoring father and husband 

Phil