I intend to post almost daily, and in roughly chronological order, the thousands of pages of daily love letters that my parents sent to each other during WWII and any other documents that pertain to these letters..
V-mail today. Not that I don't have a choice—it's just that a combination of circumstances makes me reluctant to attempt a full-scale letter. You see, I just finished letters to Dot and Gloria, and this, in addition to the fact that there was no letter from you today, made the task of writing a regular letter an unwelcome chore. I trust you understand and condone my action, Chippie.
I'm afraid I went back on my promise not to write any more “teasing,” or as you would have it—“devilish” letters. I managed to write a nice dignified two-pager to Dot, but I couldn't resist the temptation to tease Gloria. I think that that she is sufficiently acute to take it in the spirit in which it was meant.
Today was a very busy one for me. I was occupied with one thing or another practically every minute. I'm rather tired this evening as a result. Too tired, even, to think of walking down to the Snack Bar. I think I'll hit the hay as soon as I finish this. Think, too, I'll try to take “off” tomorrow. We get a “free” day now once a week.
My radio is giving forth right now with “How Sweet You Are,” which happens to be my favorite at the moment. Whoever wrote those lyrics must have felt pretty much about some sweet somebody the way I feel about you, my lovely. Someday I'll take a little “time out” to put “that” feeling into words and music. I think you'd like that, eh, Sweet? My best love to Miss Adele (I never thought I would miss her as much as I do.) Love to all from
Phil
April 25, 1944
Dear Evelyn:
It's been a long time since I've written you, but I get so nervous at times I just can't write. I hope your big daughter is in best of health and the news you get from Phil is good news.
Our family sure is having their share—do you remember my brother Harry—the blonde curly haired one—he arrived in Italy 1st of February—we have one letter dated Feb. 14th, and he's been missing since Feb. 18th—we haven't given up hope, we just feel he is alive and maybe a prisoner, and my brother, Joe, (the baby) hasn't been heard from for eight weeks‚ so Evelyn, if I haven't written, I am sure I need not say more.
What's new with you and yours? Don't forget I'm holding you to your promise to come with your daughter for a visit to us. Cy has to be in Wash. D.C. on business sometime in May and he may stop over in Phila.—if so, he'll give you a call.
Do write me and tell me the news. Perhaps, and I hope so, my next letter will be a happier one.
That salutation is by way of being an answer to yours of 12 April (V-mail). Before I go any further, I want to say it was most considerate of you, Baby, to “hasten to inform me” that you finally got around to Claire Pruett for those long-awaited pictures. Sure enough, your letter of the 11th is “late in arriving.” I await the products of your visit to the photographer with the most eager expectancy. I'm also looking for that 11th April letter to tell me whether or not you remembered to order that “miniature” for me. I fear it slipped your memory.
Didn't have space enough in yesterday's V-mail to include a coupla of items I had meant to. First I dropped a V-mail to Lil a few days ago to ask her the reason for her recent coolness. It has been bothering me and I want to know the answer. Second in Eddie's letter of the 18th, received yesterday, he included the newspaper clippings of Mayer Taylor's heroism. No wonder the whole neighborhood is talking! They must be plenty proud of him.
Just finished letters to Harry W. and Gloria. As I pointed out to Harry, there was very little likelihood of our being able to arrange a meeting. Seems the censor won’t allow us to specify where we intend to be at a certain date. Don't ask me why. You can see how this would put a crimp in any such plans I might have. Anyhow, I wrote to tell him that I was aware that he is now in England and to congratulate him on his acquisition of a new nephew and to wish him luck in the coming eventful days which promised to be hectic ones for him.
What's this about the punkins apparent indifference to ice-cream? Can this be my own daughter—my own flesh and blood? I can't understand it!
That letter of Eddies that got home in only three days must have set you to wondering. It did me. That's the fastest mail service I've heard about to date.
I took the trouble (t’ink nuttin’ of it!) to count the number of typewritten lines that would fit into a V-mail form. I think 45. This should save you the trouble of twisting the roller to determine how much space is left. Of course, the fact that this will curb you of the tendency to gyp me out the last few lines has nothing whatever to do with all of this. (Oh—no!)
About that pinafore. Improvement is always “worth the trouble.” All right! So you are not having a fur hat made; but you have not told me so “repeatedly” as I shall someday prove to you—and you don't have to get so huffy about it! Who is SHOUTING? I merely suggested—Gee, Baby, I even miss that.
I especially like your closing paragraph, Sweet. That “always, (all ways)” business is darn cute—and most intriguing (as you no doubt intended it to be). Wish I could think of something equally cute, but I can't, so since I have nothing further to report—I’ll bid you a very fond adieu, and meet you on the bench out front—shortly. My fondest thoughts are for the punkin. My love is for all. I—am for you. I am (this’ll surprise you—)
Your Phil
April 24, 1944
Dearest Darling,
Your "Iongish" letter of April 18-19 arrived in record time this morning, along with two sparkling letters from Jack N. One was for me, the other for “us". The letter for us contained a five dollar bill which, evidently, was intended for you and since I do not know whether it is safe to send it along in a letter I am holding on to it. If you want it it’s yours for the asking. I'm mailing off Jack's letter, which will explain the five dollars and many other things. I shall try to write to Jack when I finish this.
So you got 14 letters at one time! Not bad, not bad at all. You did have my curiosity aroused when you said you couldn't write for two days and I realized you would say when you could. Are you nearer or further from London? Will you be able to go to London on pass as previously? Naturally, I would like to know the name of the nearest town to your present base, but, undoubtedly, you would have mentioned it were you able to. Is this a Fighter Base? Is the food better or the same? Apparently the mail comes through more speedily at this new base, for, according to the dates of my letters, the last one was only ten days old. Isn't that pretty good time for my mail?
Do you like my knack for writing as I speak? I don't particularly care for it myself. daddy dea r I love y ou
(typed by none other than Adele Bara with my aid.
I was trying to write while she played in the pen! She had other ideas. I thought the typewriter might occupy her for a while and decided to have her send you a message all by her little self.
This letter may not hang together, sweet, as I am going to answer all the questions you posed in your letter. I'm not angry cause you neglected to write the previous night. I doubt if I would with 14 letters from you to keep me occupied. As long as you are happy!
I am a bit surprised to know that you have been thinking about the "Jack, Lenny, Phil" proposition. I think you and Jack are "naturals" for any business, regardless of your individual knowledge of any subject, including photography. Yes, sweet, I think your could offer plenty to the photography line to make such a deal plausible and as you say, "Let's hope it will all happen some day".
Phil, it has been pouring for four days now and I'm infernally sick of rain, rain, rain. I went to Broad St. and 11th St. in the pouring rain, as we had an empty cupboard that had to be filled. I'm telling you this simply because I have no intention of going out into this rain again to mail off Red's things. I have them wrapped and will mail them just as soon as it stops raining. Klein sounds like a regular screw-ball. I don't like his type, though I don't know him well enough to judge fairly. I was amazed to learn that he is but 19 years of age! He doesn't look it.
The "shoe buying spree" occurs every three months. I'm sorry if I don't make myself sufficiently clear at times, dear, but, invariably, I am interrupted and loose my train of thought. You, on the other hand, didn't make yourself clear about the fur hat. How in hell am I supposed to know that you want me to own two hats and what's the sense (when I need so many other things besides hats?
Thought I’d continue writing—I'm tired of typing. Phil, I know we think differently about “furnishing a house,” and I disagree with you on one point. You say that if we “ought to have them someday, then we need them.” I don't think we'll need them someday—we need those things now. I wouldn't call them all-time needs either, except when replacements were needed. How can I think your way when all we have to our credit is a bedroom and living room suite? (New pen point). You may be satisfied with someone else's belongings, but I'm not and never will be. I'd prefer to have you think my way, and then, maybe, we'll get some place. It will have to be “everything new and modern for the next one”—I won't have it any other way. (What in tarnation is wrong with this pen now!)
Here is that “snap” I told you about. I knew it was called an “ouija” board, but have seen it “weegie” and thought it to be the American way. I guess I am getting absent-minded, sweet—forgetting to sign my letters. I did that very thing last night remembering it as I lay down to sleep. That, however, is the first time I recall doing it. Your next sentence, “if God forbid, she's ever hurt badly, I would find it very hard to forgive you,” rubbed me the wrong way. I didn't like that sentence nor the thought behind it. What do you think I am—“superwoman”? You know I've always done my best!
There isn’t much else to answer or comment on—so I'll talk about Adele. This evening, just before Adele’s bedtime, Betty, Lou, Natalie, Sarah Petey, Adele, and I gathered on Betty's porch. “Nana” began to sing, “It's Love, Love, Love”— whereupon Adele chimed in “la, la, la.” She watches Natalie's, every motion and copies each and every one. She clapped her hands, stamped her feet, hugged herself, repeated whatever words she could to copy, as closely as possible, the actions of Natalie. She begs “Nanna” to dance with her and they did “ring around a rosie.” Adele wants to sit down after the first line, not caring to wait for the “one, two, three.”
April 25, 1944
Literally fell asleep writing and thought I’d continue today. Adele cried last night and I didn't get much rest. I arose early this morning and did all my housework by 10:45 A. M. at which time I dressed and went out with Adele. Anne had called earlier and asked me to go to Broad St. with her. Thank God - it has finally stopped raining, but the weatherman predicts more (darn it!); it remains cloudy in the meantime, with the sun stealing through every so often. As we passed the children's store on Broad
St. I saw a lovely pique bonnet and decided to get Adele one. Her's is made of a white pique eyelet material with a white lining and a large, deep powder blue ruffle trimming a stiff portion of the white material to make the polk. It cost $2. She looks lovely in it and I’ll try to have a snap made in the near future. I'm going to use that white wool Dot bought for me for a plain white sweater for Adele with smocking of blue. The sweater I have in mind will have a yoke and a waist band something like my red sweater. Both yoke and band will have the blue smocking. I can't seem to get a pair of overalls (gabardine) in Adele's size. Dot, on the other hand, can't get that underwear with the snap-on panties. So I'm looking for underwear for her and she is looking for overalls for Adele. I thought I'd get a pair of blue overalls to finish off the outfit. I expect to get Adele, a pair of jodphurs, for they seem to be the "rage" with young children. They take the place of overalls and give good wear.
I had a letter from Eddie today, short and nothing new.
Our garage man hasn't paid for three months and no longer desires to rent the garage. I hope we can rent it to someone else, but garages are plentiful and we may not be so lucky.
Harry has made up his mind to quit working for the Signal Corps. He says there isn't enough money to be made there, and he can't get along on $33 per. His salary is really $41, but deductions make it so low. He is seriously considering taking a gas station something like Al’s. Al, by the way, also bought Ethel an "engagement" ring for $600, besides the wedding band he bought her recently.
Lil called while I was out. Said she had a letter from you in which you gave her hell and promised to see us in the near future. You didn't tell me you had written to her.
Guess I’ll have to call this a letter as I'm just about, "writ" out. I still got plenty of love in me and I'd like to give out with it. Look out! Here comes your
Eve
24 April 1944
Dearest Darling,
Came back from the Finance Office just now to find your sweet, but rebellious, letter of 11 April on my desk. There were allso a letter from Dottie, and a V-mail from Gloria (the first section of the two of 10 April). In yesterday's letter, I intimated that I was looking forward to yours of the 11th. Little did I know that it would be important for a reason other than the details of the visit to Claire Pruett. That was a pretty stiff price he asked for four pictures, but it remains to be seen whether or not the money was well-spent. I think I pointed out in a previous letter that a good picture is priceless. Let us hope that these will be in that category.
I know you too well, Chippie, to think for a moment that any mere words of mine could deter you from going ahead with any project you are convinced is worthwhile. So all the while I was planning my arguments against your announced intention of going back to work, I had a premonition that I might just as well spare myself the effort. I was even tempted to dismiss your query with the curt “do as you please about it,” knowing as I did that you would anyhow, but I also know what you expected of me; namely, a lengthy exposition of my views and feelings in the matter. It is my privilege and joy to anticipate that which you wish, and do my utmost to gratify your every desire, however subtly evidenced—thus my ardent pleas for a cause which, all the time, I well knew, was a lost one. To further demonstrate the completeness of my understanding of you, my darling, permit me at this time to say what I know you expect me to say, or rather, what I know you would want me to say: I have fully acquainted you with my opinions in the matter. Further, nothing you have said has changed them in any way. But, since you feel as you do, and I would be the veriest fool not to concede your right to your viewpoint, I can only say—good luck, darling, and may it all turn out as you expect and hope, rather than the way I fear. I pray my arguments were all without basis in fact. Go to it, Sweet and my best wishes for your success and welfare go with you.
Incidentally, Chippie, I couldn't help but remark the general excellence of your letter. I refer to the composition of it, your forms of expression, and most especially, a few phrases that far surpassed any former conception I ever had of your literary competency. Where, for instance, did you pick up “teeter,” as applied to “morale.” More remarkable—“a young girl can stale from frequent sacrifice”—if I didn't know you were above it, I would say you copied it from something out of a book. My guess is that you read it someplace and your mind retained it 'cause you thought it applied to you. How close am I?
You needn’t fear, Baby, that I'll be “mad” at you for “disagreeing” with me. I'm not that narrow. I won't deny that I regret we can't see eye to eye on this thing, but I am fully aware that you may just as easily be in the right as I. Under the circumstances, it would be silly of me to feel any rancor because we are at odds. Only time will tell whether or not I had any justification for my qualms. As I have already stated, I pray I haven't.
Thanks sweetheart for telling me where you place me at 5 o'clock. Now that I know where you have me, I'll make it a point to be there, and I promise to give as good as I receive—if’n you know what I mean. By the way, would it embarrass you to know that I seldom am content with just the kissing? If it does, just slap me down—I might (just possibly)—desist the next time. Reminds me of one of your erstwhile pet expressions—“I can dream—can't I?”
Things are still pretty dull in this sector of the ETO, so you’ll forgive me if I don't enlarge on what transpires at this end of our correspondence. I decided to write (when I noticed it this afternoon) about the sign on the road leading to our area. It reads:
Entering Powder River
Please Drive Carefully
We love our children!
I'm missing you very much tonight my lovely and before I break down and tell you exactly how much, thereby inducing that unwelcome sense of frustration in us both—I'll sign off—with my dearest love to a grand girl, my wife and her adorable daughter—from me
Your V-mail of 14 April was in the mail for me this morning. I'm glad that the two mailless days didn't show up in the receipt of my mail from you or I might have been worried. Sorry you couldn't write and it's okay with me - if you can't, you can't. I'm glad you are enjoying the Milky Ways and I shall endeavor to send more in the future.
I have two bits of news for you. Jules Dickoff is going overseas and Irving Glick (remember our next door neighbor on Sansom St.?) was wounded in action in the South Pacific.
I accomplished a lot of work today and think I'll give you an idea of what I did. I thoroughly cleaned our room, the bathroom, the living room and the dining room. I washed the porch linoleum, washed some clothes, pressed, washed the kitchen floor. I don't usually do all this in one day, however, the weather continues damp, cloudy and rainy and since I can't take Adele out I am doing as much as I can in the house. When it does get nice I'll have that much more time to spend outside.
So far Spring has been nothing but rain, rain, rain. I'm beginning to think we aren't going to have a Spring at all this year. By the time it does clear up we'll be ready for summer weather. How's by you?
Adele likes when I whisper in her ear. She responds in the same quiet tone and offers me her ear frequently. She has been behaving splendidly the past two days. I guess she wants you to have a good opinion of her, for I just finished writing, a few days ago, how bad she has been. Her sleeping has improved and I'm finally getting some rest. (Thank God)
I can't think of another thing to say, except, of course, what I'll never tire of saying, that I love you, my darling and always will. On second thought, I think I shall continue on this tomorrow. So long for now, angel, I'm with you, as always.
April 23, 1944
I worked on Stuart's sweater most of the evening and have finished the back. I have about three inches of the front at this point (making good time, don't you think?). I washed Adele's blue outfit for the first time and it washed nicely. I was afraid to wash it since Fay made her baby a snowsuit of the same wool and when she washed it it faded terribly. It must have been the way she washed it, for mine came out nicely, as I said before.
Mickey Brown surprised the folks by coming in early Saturday morning on an eight day furlough (with Miriam.) They promised to visit us today and should be over later. (I'm writing this during Adele's nap and will finish later in the evening).
The Browns were over and Mickey (he hasn't told the folks yet) is on the overseas list. He thinks he'll be out of the country before another month is out and knows what he's talking about as he has been in the office and has it from a reliable source. Miriam is staying here. It's over six weeks since they heard from Milton and can't help worrying. As seems to be their custom at each visit, they left a dollar bill for Adele. They certainly love our little girl, sweet, and have been more than generous in gifting her.
Gloria called from N. Y. She, too, realizes that the surprise Jack has in store is "stripes". She's elated and says "it's about time!" She said something about Sammy driving to Philly next week, but the connection was poor and I couldn't understand her. I guess she’ll write about it.
I read the enclosed article recently and am sending it along for I think you will enjoy it too.
I was listening to a radio story earlier in the evening starring Walter Pidgeon (that's where I must have gotten the spelling of pigeon) and I must confess that I like him extremely. I like his person, but mostly, I like his voice. I could listen to him hour after hour. He has the most pleasing male voice I have ever heard.
Sam and Pauline are here and Etta and Nat are stopping over later. They always ask me to forward their regards and best wishes.
Goldie's father has been raving about that Ietter you sent him. He is terribly broken up about his son's enlistment and was crying over the telephone while talking to Goldie. His son is more of a wife than his own wife.
And so, baby, I come to the end of another communique from home. What is more fitting, then, than to send along all the love and adoration that is yours? I adore you beyond words, my own sweet husband, and wish very much that I could know the taste of your lips once more. Mind if I kiss them now? As Adele would say, "num, num, num, num!" More - - - -
22 April 1944
Darling Chippie,
Your V-mail of 10 April just arrived together with a V-mail from Gloria, and a letter from Eddie. None of you had anything startling to report. There is very little hope of Eddie and I getting together at this time. The info that you mailed those three boxes of candy bars certainly comes under the heading of good news.
Sorry, Sweet, that I can’t oblige you at this time with those snapshots you ask for. Frankly, the amount of red tape involved in getting film processed over here makes picture taking hardly worth the effort. However, if you are willing to wait about three months for the results, you might send along some film (616 or 620).
Don’t, Chippie, concern yourself with the state of my finances. I assure you I'll get along O.K. I explained, I think, that I had to borrow in order to meet Eddie. When I repaid the debt, it left me short for the following month—catch?
Sorry I have to use V-mail, Chippie, but really there is very little to report, and it is ample. I'm expecting the Air-Mail envelopes today, however, and tomorrow I'll try to make it a “longie.”
You made no mention of the punkin in this last letter—an oversight I'm sure you won't commit soon again.
My best love to her and to all the family. As for you, my darling, I'll see you in my dreams on the bench out front at 5 o'clock.
Your short letter of April 11 reached here this morning. I wish you could have seen who delivered it! Evidently something was wrong with our regular mail man, for the mail was delivered by a kid not more than 12 years old. He looked funny with the big hat with “U.S. Mail” inscribed and the large bag slung across his shoulder. He knew what he was doing and went about it in a precise, quick motion and got the work done as well as the regular postman.
My period finally showed up and I felt exceptionally lousy all day long. Adele, I am glad to say, was an especially good girl and stayed in the pen most of the day. She heralds the arrival of the mail by a loud “da-da” (meaning letter) and seems to realize how important it is to me. We had a thunderstorm this evening and Adele became frightened. When it subsided somewhat, I took her to the window and showed her the rain. She calls it “ra” and when she forgets she calls it “sis.” Sure is a lot of “sis”!
I started to work on Stuart’s sweater and am using a similar stitch to the one I used to make Mom’s sweater. I have about three inches of the back completed. Ethel says the baby gets cuter every day. I think I'm going to visit her next week with Adele and stay for an hour or so in the afternoon. I'm anxious to see the baby. Ethel doesn't feel good. She got right up and went to work and I think it's really been too much for her. She was nursing for a time and now the doctor is drying up her milk. She complains of terrible pains in her breasts and they accompany “drying up.” I'll never forget how painful it was for me.
Goldie's brother enlisted in the Navy (he'll be 18 on May 2), and goes for his physical this coming Wednesday. I guess Seymour is next.
I'm wondering if any packages have reached you. There are quite a few on the way and some of them should have reached you by this time. I'm waiting word of what to do with Red’s things. How is Red these days? You haven't mentioned him much in your letters. Does he have many girlfriends? How is he feeling these days?
I'm having difficulty filling up space again, sweet, and since I'm not in a writing mood and anxious to get to bed, I know you'll excuse the brevity of this. Still keeping our 5 o'clock date, honey, and always will. I love you more each day and wish very much that I could demonstrate. Here’s a kiss from Adele and one from
Your Eve
21 April 1944
Dearest,
I'm resorting to V-mail today for two reasons: (1) No Air-Mail envelopes, (2) No letter from you in three days.
Finally managed to get a V-mail off to Ethel and Al this afternoon.
After a typically routine day, I caught a ride down to the Aero Club, where I had a snack while I “batted the breeze” with a few of the fellows of the company. Afterwards, I accompanied Sgt. Murphy to the theatre. They must have repaired the projector and sound equipment, ’cause the film was good, and the sound was perfect. After a few entertaining “short subjects,” “Hitler's Children,” an exceptionally short picture, but one which makes up for its brevity by the power of the dramatic plot. The picture is well-written and well-directed—there isn't a superfluous scene or sentence, and packs an emotional wallop. I enjoyed it.
Back in the hut, I'm listening to the radio (yes, we have one) the while I write this. We suffer no lack of American music or American entertainment. The American Forces Network sees to that. They make it possible for us to hear all the “big” radio shows. The only trouble is, I'm the only guy in the hut that likes symphony—the others can't stomach it, and promptly switch it when it comes on. Someday, God willing, I'll be able to listen or not—as I please!
Goodnight for now, my Sweet, and don't forget to kiss the punkin for me. Love to all from
Had a letter from our Jack today and he says he has a surprise in store for us but is saving it til he is positively sure. He thought he aroused my curiosity, but he didn't. Naturally, I know what it is—stripes. He sounded “hep” for he has been in the army for quite some time and hasn't been given as much as the PFC. I have an idea he made Cpl. or Sgt.
I worked part of the day for Miss Hahn (six hours) and picked up the stationery I had ordered for several people. Goldie ordered white paper with blue printing. Fay ordered blue people paper with blue printing. I paid your insurance and a milk bill for Adele. Al called for the carriage and I'm still waiting for my dad's boss to get the kind I want. If he doesn't get it soon, I'll have to go downtown to shop for one.
I think I've spoken of Sarah's sister-in-law Rose on occasion. Well, sweet, Adele is deathly afraid of her and cries every time she chances to see her. She (Adele) has us all puzzled for Rose has never done anything to scare her or hurt her in any way. She loves the kid and feels badly about. We got her to kiss Rose twice this evening after much persuasion and then Adele wanted to get as far away from her as possible. I simply cannot understand it. The same thing used to happen with Teresa Frommer (Flora's mother) and Adele gradually got used to her. Rose wears glasses and we thought that might be it, yet Adele goes to anyone else wearing glasses. Even if she doesn't see Rose for two weeks, she remembers her well and fears her. I can't figure it out—can you?
You could feel traces of summer in the weather today and the desire to see and be with you grows ever stronger. Did you ever stop to think that April 29th will be exactly two years you've been in the U.S. Army? That's one year more than you’ve been with me and I sincerely wish I was counting the other way. This is my third v-mail this week and I'm using it more frequently, hoping my mail to you will become more regular. I wrote a long typewritten letter last night, but I guess you won't get that til a week after this arrives, according to your claims.
I’m four days late and very anxious to get it over with. I had a funny headache most of the day.
Goldie sometimes does the cooking, under mom supervision, and is a mighty fine cook. Boy, is Harry happy about that! After all, you know Harry. Did I say he was going to watch his diet—what diet! The doctor did give him some pills to decrease his appetite and I'm just awaitin’.
I'm going straight to bed and I heartily wish that I could cuddle close you and whisper my love for you in your ear in our very own bed. Guess you'll have to be satisfied with
Your Eve
til you get me personally. YEAH MAN!
20 April 1944
My Own, (I can be “different,” too)
CQ tonight, and because I haven't received any mail from you today or yesterday and having answered your last batch of mail yesterday—I have to make a “fresh start,” as it were. This leaves me no alternative but to tell you what goes on here (for a change). I have two sheets like this, and I have promised myself, and you, that I will fill them before I hit the hay. (Hope I don't have to resort to the effective but unsatisfactory expedient of writing “I love you” a few hundred times at the end in order to get some sleep—you follow me?)
Let's see now—I am, as per usual, in very good health, even though I'm pretty “soft.” The food here (I only eat one meal a day now—at midday) is even better than it was at the last base. Yesterday we had real, honest-to-goodness hamburger, and was it good! To go with—crisp french fries, and creamed peas. For dessert—sliced canned peaches—and, of course, b & b and coffee—no, cocoa. We had coffee today to top off a delicious meal of ham, stewed raisins in sauce (don't ask me what kind), baked beans, diced carrots (don't get any ideas, dear) and vanilla corn-starch pudding. I might mention that we now have music with our meals (yeah!) There is a real, honest-to-goodness juke-box right in the center of the mess hall and the guys keep it going full blast. “‘A’ Train” gets most of the business, but “The Dreamer” does O.K., too. I've heard a lot and read a lot about “Mairzy Doats,” but I have still to hear it. Tell Ruthie (while I think of it) that she can choose between Frank Sinatra and me. (Am I sticking my neck out!) Few things have ever disgusted me as much as the “Sinatra Swooners.” Where was I? In the mess-hall? Well, I'm just about through with that. I will be when I've told you that we are eating out of our mess kits now. Of course, everyone much prefers plates, but so long as they keep putting good food into the mess-kits, I, for one, won't complain. Too, one must take into consideration the humanitarian angle involved. You see, when we eat out of our mess kits, the K.P.’s have a few thousand dishes less to contend with. (I hate to waste all this space, but—new paragraph.)
Yesterday, after work, I walked to the Aero Club for a snack of a coupla sandwiches, a sweet roll, and a cuppa coffee. The Aero Club is also larger than the one at the old base. It contains the following sections: Lounge (easy chairs, papers, magazines, and radio-phono combination), reading and writing room (sh-h-h!), card room, and an immense Snack Bar which, when cleared of tables and chairs, serves as a hall for dancing. When there is a dance, the trucks go out to the surrounding towns and pick up the girls. Special Service takes care of all this. There was a dance last night, but I didn't attend. I was in “fatigues”—and while I might have enjoyed watching the jitterbugs, I didn't relish the idea of the long tramp back to the hut to change into class “A”’s for the occasion. Instead, I went to the Base Theatre. The projector and sound here are just slightly better than the one at the previous station. The picture was one of the “Lone Wolf” series with Warren William—“Passport to Suez.” As you know, I can find something to enjoy in any picture and I'm never bored by the worst class “C” drama they can throw my way. There was nothing outstanding about it, but I managed to stay interested—and so killed the evening.
Today, outside of typing a few notices for the bulletin board and preparing a reimbursement form to be submitted to the Finance Office, which I gave the once over this morning, there was very little work. I read a bit of “Time,” “Newsweek” and “Esquire.” I learned a little from all three, and so the day passed—.
Now I am alone in the Orderly Room—my bunker is in readiness; I have checked the blackout of the huts in the area; asked the operator to give me a ring at 4:30 A.M. (when I have to wake the K.P.’s), and I'm looking forward to “hitting the sack” (as you say, I would say).
I have had very little trouble with this particular letter. It hasn't taken me quite 45 minutes to get this far and I still have plenty of space in which to tell you that although I can't keep our “date” tonight (I expect to be sound asleep by 11 o'clock (5 o'clock where you are—and I would love to be), I will say that sleeping or awakening, whether I'm beside you, or an ocean removed, I am and always shall be
