Post #391 - June 12, 13, 1944 As I Write, We are Busy Timing Goldie, Who is Having Labor Pains—At Long Last and Evelyn Wolf (Remember?) had a Boy Yesterday

 

June 12, 1944 

Dearest Phil, 

Your letter of May 21st got through this morning and accompanying it was a bond. I shall try to get a package off this week, as I promised, since your letter is a request. Sorry about the loss of another tooth, but I guess it is just as well. You may wonder why I am using the pen. Well, sweet, it is very warm today and I thought it wiser to sit outside and get a bit of the breeze that wanders by every few minutes. I'm sitting in Betty's rocking chair in the driveway. This morning I visited Anne. Tony is in on a 13 day furlough. I stayed only a half hour, so that I wouldn't be late for work. In that time, Tony took two snaps of Adele with Ricky which I hope turn out well. Mom tells me that the doll Rae bought for Adele is beautiful. She told Rae to bring it over herself since it was her gift. Etta and Nat brought Mom home from Ethel's last night. Mom, incidentally, got your Jewish letter today. The afternoon at work flew and before I knew it, I was back home. Adele slept til 7:35 and was a good girl all day. Can't say much else, except, of course, that I love you dearly and always will be

Your Eve

13 June 1944

My Darling,

I hate to have to make excuses for not writing, but it seems it is becoming increasingly necessary.

Yesterday, being somewhat bored with hanging about the Orderly Room, and having just completed the payroll, I asked Sgt. Murphy to let me go as assistant driver on a convoy about to leave for a rail-head to pick up bombs. I wanted a change of scene, and I thought I might get something for the company history this month. Sgt. Murphy said O.K., so I got to go. I'd like to tell you something about the trip, and the methods employed in the handling of the bombs, but there I’d be bucking the censor, and I don't do that knowingly. Suffice it to say that while I enjoyed the trip, and learned a few things, I was dog-tired when we rolled into camp. I had developed a nasty headache, too, and when the time for writing came, I just wasn’t up to it. Instead, although it was still early, I went to bed.

Just finished reading your and Ruth's letters of 3 June, which arrived this afternoon.

In this one (back-dated, by the way) you inform me that you are now a "working gal.” Oddly enough, I anticipated your hypothetical question, which was meant to anticipate my query, by a few days. I mean "and you may ask why I am even thinking of working when you consider what remains.” Further, you anticipate my question by answering it in the next sentence. All I can say, Baby, I have already said—good-luck! Even if I can’t justify your action to my own satisfaction, I certainly admire the spirit that prompted it

The rest of your letter is devoted to talk about the family, and requires no comment. Everything seems to be going along normally back there, and I’m thankful for that

Still waiting to hear on which day I became an uncle.—Which reminds me—in the mess hall this noon, I ran into Klein, who informed me that Evelyn Wolf (remember?) had a boy yesterday. I expect to get up to see the proud parents this Sunday evening.

Ruth's letter contained two old snaps, which were not too good. Neither you nor the punkin “came out” too well. Ruth, though, looks quite attractive.

I, in common with almost everyone else around here, am still greatly pre-occupied with “the invasion.” When I’m not listening to the news broadcasts, I’m reading a paper or contemplating a map, or just wondering about it. The news we do get is very sketchy, and we suspect that you in the States know more about what is happening than we do.

I read an interesting item in the “Stars and Stripes" the other day. A German claim had it that the 1st, 29th, 6th Airborne, and a few other Infantry divisions "suffered the heaviest casualties.” I needn't tell you why this item was especially significant for me—I think you know that the “29th” is my old outfit. If the report is true, they must have been among the first to land. Food for conjecture, isn’t it, Sweet?

Right now I'm listening to Jascha Heifetz, playing with Andre Kostelanetz’ orchestra. In happier surroundings, I could want no better entertainment, but the edge is somehow taken from the keenness of my pleasure in Heifetz’ superb music by my present environment and all it entails and signifies. Yet it is pleasing to a great extent. It's just that this type of thing is incapable of producing, or inspiring in me that once well-loved sense of complete contentment and relaxation. (Remember those long, lazy, luxurious, and utterly lovely Sunday afternoons, when I had eyes only for you, and ears only for the various symphony programs?) Right now I’m as close to uttering that “sound” you referred to as (huh-huh) in today's letter (you bet I remember it), as I ever was.

Au revoir, my darling. If you feel at any time, what I am feeling at this instant, then I can only sympathize with you, and long, more than ever, to hold you very close to me, to stroke your hair, and to whisper whatever of re-assurance and encouragement I am able to afford you. And while I had you in such favorable circumstances, I don't see how I could refrain from whispering some thing else—I adore you, Sweet.

My best love to our darling daughter. Some day t'll convey to her, in person, that no one loves her in just the same way as does her daddy—

Phil

June 13, 1944 

My darling, 

No mail today and I'm looking forward to getting something tomorrow. As I write we are busy timing Goldie, who is having labor pains—at long last. They are far apart as they were that Saturday previous to the day I gave birth and she has been having them off and on all day long. Undoubtedly my next or second letter to this will contain the news of a new Strongin. 

I did get a new Social Security card, same number, but with my new name. I shopped for Mom on Broad Street with Adele this morning, buying mostly groceries and two pairs of stockings for myself. I ripped a pair at work the other day when I bent to file some letters, I should tell you what I'm wearing each day, now that I sort of dress up. Well, yesterday I wore my soldier suit and today I wore my black net dress with a white dickie. 

I managed to get two letters off last night, one to Milt, the other to Eddie. I'm still way behind in my correspondence, and I doubt if I'll ever catch up now. 

I frequently take Adele for a walk to Feldman's drugstore to show her the bunnies he raises for medical purposes. She watched them very closely the other day and now has a new habit. When you ask her what the bunny did, she rubs her hand across her face. She saw the bunny washing its face and imitates perfectly. Mr. Bellet referred me to a juvenile furniture house in an effort to help me obtain a stroller carriage for Adele. I stopped there before going to work today, but no luck. The seller claims that only one manufacturer in the country is making them at present and that they are scarcer than diamonds. He said, “Lady, you have a job on your hands.” Mr. Bellet has an order in, but hasn't any idea of when they will come in. I guess I'll have to wait whether I like it or not. Either I haven't got the money or I can't get the item. What a screwy system! Oh well, all's well that ends well. 

Goldie’s pains are coming more frequently and I'm going to time her to get a more accurate picture of what is happening. I have a hunch she'll go to the hospital within the next few hours, even sooner. It looks like Adele will be exactly 18-1/2 months older than Goldie's baby. 

Nothing more today in the way of news, except that it was very warm today. Of course, and as usual, I have my sweet word for you, dearest, and I'd like nothing better than to take you in my empty arms, draw you very close and whisper in your ear how very dear you are to me. Good night, sweetheart, hope I'll have that news for you tomorrow. 

Your Eve

Post #390 - June 11, 1944 Bert Wolf, as Closely as I Can Judge, is in His Early Thirties, as is Evelyn, His Wife

 11 June 1944

Darling Eve,

Last night, for the first time in weeks I left the station. Klein drives the bus on the officers' Liberty Run. A few weeks back, he had met a young Jewish couple in a nearby town, and he had spoken very highly of them. When I expressed a wish to meet them, he readily agreed to introduce me. Last night, the opportunity presented itself, so I went along with him. That is why, Sweet, I didn't write.

The people I met were even nicer than Klein had led me to believe. Bert Wolf, as closely as I can judge, is in his early thirties, as is Evelyn, his wife. Bert is slim, dark, and vivacious, (if one can apply the adjective to a man). Evelyn is short blond, and pregnant. Of the two, if I’m any judge, she is the dominating character. Her kid sister, Rita, who lives with them, is about sixteen, has a pretty face, and a short, dumpy figure. Klein calls her "Thunderbolt" because of the latter feature, but she is as broad in the mind as she is in the beam, and doesn't seem to mind. They have a tiny shop on the “main drag" of the town, where they sell military accessories insignia, etc. Apparently, they do O.K. 'cause they have a very nice home in the suburbs (even as judged by American standards.) Bert is a vegetable gardener, and proudly showed us his strawberries, currants, peas, crocuses, plum trees, and a few other varieties I’ve forgotten. Klein takes a perverse joy in baiting Bert on everything British, but he outdid himself on his comments on his garden. Bert, though, takes it all in good spirit. There was another G.I. there, a guy named Harry, from Cicero, Illinois. While Evelyn and Rita busied themselves in the kitchen, Klein put records on the radio-phono, and Bert undertook to teach Harry and me the game of “Solo". It is a British game resembling Bridge. Supper was a treat: Bacon, two fried eggs, tomatoes, mashed potatoes, cabbage, cottage cheese with scallions (a concession to Klein's taste—but delicious), picalilly, toast + butter, and coffee and cake—and sweets (candy). I enjoyed the meal immensely, but no more than I did the unaffected friendliness of my hosts. They are really a swell couple, and I was grateful for the privilege of meeting them. They asked me to come again, whenever I got the opportunity. I certainly mean to! Oh yes, they have a relative in Phila. His name is Reese, and he has an antique shop on Pine street (they don't know the address.) See if you can find him in the phone-book. You might give him a call, if you choose.

Today was spent making up the payroll. I didn't quite finish it, but I will tomorrow morning. I'm pretty weary this evening, Sweet—You’d be surprised how much concentration is required in making the payroll—there are a million and one things one must keep in mind.)—so I thought I would turn in early tonight.

There was no mail for me either last night or tonight. Hope there's some tomorrow— Wonder when I'll receive the package containing the pictures.

Good-night, sweet Chippie. I adore you. Please kiss Adele for me. My love to all.

Your own
Phil




June 11, 1944

Dear Phil:

Snuff got his notice to leave on the 24th for the Navy. It has been more or less expected, but it doesn’t make it any pleasanter.

Again I say loads of luck to you as you will probably need it.

If you get a chance, go see “Up in Arms.” It is really quite entertaining.

Am still waiting for the baby’s pictures so that I can send you a few.

As ever,
Dot

Post #389 - June 10, 1944 My Grandmother is Dreadfully Ill Again and is in Bad Shape

 

June 10-11, 1944

Dearest Sweetheart, 

I wrote you a v-mail last night. However, when I read it over it just didn't sound right and my English was poor, so I tore it up and decided to write a longer letter today to make up for it. Hope it's okay with you, dear.

Up to this time Goldie is still alright and she can hold out a few more days. 

It rained most of the day Saturday. Mr. Bellet’s son drove me to work, so I didn’t mind the rain. He is in this neighborhood on Sat. mornings and will, in all probability, take me down on the next two Sats. My first real pay amounted to $23.80, but was cut down about a dollar with deductions. I've got the job "downpat” and it is getting easier with the passing days. I just happened to think you might get a jealous feeling at the fact that Mr. Bellet’s son drove me to work. I'm sorry I mentioned it. He is about to go into the Navy, is married and has a son three months older than Adele.

Seymour's train didn't leave til 1 A. M. Sat. morning. My dad went to the train with him. He is at Camp Perry, Virginia. 

My grandmother is dreadfully ill again and is is in bad shape. Her legs kept swelling from time to time and now the swelling has risen to her hips. My mother went down to see her last night and she begged my mom to bring Adele down to see her - just in case. I don't have to tell you that that sort of swelling is a bad sign and god only knows how much longer she can last. I intend to go down to see her one day this week, with Adele. 

I called Dot and learned that Snuff is definitely leaving for the Navy June 24th. There is no question about it this time. I completely forgot to send them a card for their anniversary and apologized to Dot. She said they were married in Jewish on June 15th, so I still have time to send a card.

Today, as I've already told you in a previous letter, was the unveiling. Harry and Mom represented our family. I wasn't in the mood to go and besides someone had to remain with Goldie. The doctor asked Goldie if she would like to have the spinal and she refused. He said if she doesn't show signs of having it by Wednesday to call him and undoubtedly he'll make her take a good dose of castor oil. He said the heartbeat sounds a bit faster and it might be a girl after all - but he still says a boy. 

I swept, dusted and mopped around the house a bit to make things orderly. Aside from that I was outside the entire day with Adele. It is warmer today and the sun shone brightly. Adele wore her blue skirt and white blouse; I, my brown slack suit. 

Before I go on I do want to say that I accomplished quite a bit last night. I bathed Adele, washed and set my hair, bathed myself, washed some clothes and washed all the combs and brush. Yes, dear, I even found time to write that v-mail I tore up and have an ice-cream cone, My dad got me two packages of Suchard chocolate squares (they're delish) to start off the next package. I shall wait for a later letter and if one does not come through in the next few days I'll send off one package anyhow, cause I want to keep my promise to mail something every two weeks. I mailed the last package on May 22 and that's more than two weeks ago. 

I am alone in the house at the present moment - Mom is at Ethel’s and H. & G. at the movies. I thought I’d catch in a movie this evening, but decided to let it go in favor of catching up on my correspondence, My conscience bothers me if I don’t get a longie off to you every so often. Baby, I love you so much! 

Phil, there is so much I could write about Adele! Yet, sometimes I just don't care to. I do want to have some things to tell you personally when you come home. If, at any time, you're inclined to feel that I have plenty to write about, remember that I don't want to tell you every little thing, nor can I write detailed letters as you do.

Mrs. Frommer thinks I look better since I returned to work. Well, I do have to keep myself looking neat every single moment. While at home, I'm not as meticulous about my appearance. Generally, I was too tired and as long as I was clean, I wasn't that meticulous. Of course, the routine has affected me some, but I think it is all to my advantage. I eat on time, I sleep the same amount of hours and I'm more regular in everything. When the weather gets warm my appetite disappears and while I'm not eating as much as I did before, I expect to eat twice as much as I did formerly when the weather again becomes cool. 

I think I shall give you an idea of some of the things Adele did today. She slept late. (til almost 8) had a nice breakfast and did her duties. Immediately after, we went outside in the driveway and played ball. Adele throws the ball to me and I roll it back to her. She throws it and then chases after it. She can keep it up for hours without a break. I can't! At any rate, she came in at 11, had a glass of milk and then her nap. She slept three hours, had some lunch and got back to the ball playing. By the way, Adele does not know enough to take care of herself with the toilet paper, but she is making fast strides. She prefers to do it alone. Adele makes believe she is jumping rope by stamping one foot. She sort of shakes her body and gives that impression. She makes believe she is turning rope, too. She watches Goldie take her vitamin pills several times a day. Goldie has a habit of shaking the bottle and it makes a pleasant sound. Every time we talk about vitamins, she starts shaking her hand, imitating Goldie. Adele likes to pick up every piece of dirt she sees. When she does, she brings it right to me and says, "Momma, dirt!" I tell her to throw it away and she does - sometimes. Nine times out of ten she does. She says the word "dirt" clearly.

You may wonder whether or not. I pay close attention to the news. Well, sometimes I do and sometimes I don't. It all depends on how much time I have. Rest assured that I know what is happening daily, though I may neglect to mention it. 

I do want to write a few more letters this evening before I get out of the mood, sweet, so I hope you won't mind very much if I bring this to an early ??? close. It goes without saying that I adore you to bits. I miss you ever so much and that I'm most anxious to have some late mail and I do mean recent. God bless you, beloved, and keep you safe and well for 

Your

Eve 

Post #388 - June 9, 1944 Life is Still Very Young for All of Us, and Who Knows What Fruits of Love and Affection We Have Still to Reap?

  

9 June 1944

My Dearest, 

Just received your three V-mails of 31 May, 1 and 2 June. Having just completed a letter to Jack N., I am now ready to get this off to you. 

When I was writing the date above, it occurred to me that this is the day I'm supposed to become an uncle. I'm wondering right now what my status is. Guess it'll be about ten days yet before I'll know. I'm still host to the conviction that it will be Dennis Jay—and not Diana Jean. Incidentally I think they are both lovely names. Since nothing of moment occurred (that I could write about) today, I shall now look  thru your recently arrived V-mails to see what I can say about what you said (silly sentence).
 
Your first sentence in yours of the 31st hit the nail right on the head, as you well know by now. The mail from England was “frozen,” and when you guess in your next that it “has something to do with the invasion,” you scored a “bull” again. Why, Chippie, if you are so discerning, do you rant so against the Army for holding up the mail? Knowing, or guessing the reason, and realizing the necessity of it, you should be more resigned to mail-less days. I suspect you should have heard from me by this date. As closely as I can figure, you should have received about ten letters at once. Now will you be good?

I hope Dr. Gayl knows what he is talking about in the matter of Adele's feet. I myself, would take her to clinic, if only for the added re-assurance they could give. However, since you are satisfied that there is no cause for concern, I am too.
It's good to know that your checks are arriving so regularly. I notice that Seymour goes into the Navy today. I'm hoping he’ll adopt the habit of writing to you regularly as have at most all the rest of us of the family in Service. When you have occasion to write to him, Chippie, wish him well for me. Don't let your mother worry about him, cause if I know Seymour, and I think I do, he'll love the Navy. 

It was nice of your Dad's boss to give you the clock as a gift, even if his generosity may have been prompted by an ulterior motive. 

Yes, Baby now that you mention the address, I remember Mr. Bellet’s place, Didn’t we also try the place across the street at the time we were shopping for the crib? Happy that you found the work interesting, Honey, and more than a little proud, too, that he liked your work enough to make concessions in the matter of working hours, etc. I feel a lot better about your going to work, knowing that Mr. Bellet takes you and your Dad in his car. However, and I’m most curious about this, do you really think it's worth your while? As far as I know, you'll clear about 23.00 for 34 hours' work—out of which you'll realize about 13.00 after paying for Adele's care. Of course, if your main purpose is to get away from the house for a while, or to help Mr. Bellet out of his present difficulty, that's another story, but I just can't see you going out of your way for a measly 13.00 per week.

I would have given much to see you jumping "double-dutch,” Chippie. Bet the other ladies the neighborhood, if they saw it, had plenty to say about it. I can just see them wagging their heads disapprovingly. For my part, I like to think that you are still young enough, and light-hearted enough to amuse yourself in a “little-girl" pastime. As for the punkin not wanting to stop—well, I just can't believe she even started as precocious as she no doubt is. Care to clear up the picture for me, Chippie?

Mr. Silver must be overjoyed to have his son back with him so soon. I must write to him again some day soon. 

You end your letter of the 2nd with a reference to our date at 5, and add "if you only knew what I were doing to you- - -.” Mind if I guess? Lets see now—you're- - - no, I can't write that! Let me put it this way—you're- - - no, I better not write that, either. Oh, hell, you know I know that you know that I know that you—(there must be an end to this someplace!) Lest you think it's beyond my capabilities to convey—you're doing exactly what I see you doing at that very moment (at least in your mind’s eye). If that doesn't convince you that we see "minds eye to mind's eye” nothing ever will!—If I only knew—! Indeed! 

And with this pleasant thought (to put it as mildly as know how) to mull over, I leave  you for the nonce.—Just remembered something I haven't thought about for months and months. It just flashed across my mind. Scene: Chestnut St.—my room—I’m sleeping (or pretending to ) with Jack N.—when you come in, I’m hoping like everything that Jack is really asleep—but you, my darling, either don't give a damn, or—you just don’t give a damn! (Or should I have forgotten the whole thing?) Oh, lady, lady—If I loved you for nothing else—I would for the memories (you count ’em!) Guess what, Chippe! Uh-huh! C’mon sumpin! I adore you, my little——, but no less than I love my wife, or my Chippie, or Mrs. Philip Strongin, or my mother's daughter-in-law, Evelyn; or Adele Bara Strongin's “mommy;” or Jack N's buddy's wife; or some others I could name, but the strange and exciting thing is—contrary to what you may think—to me, they are all separate and distinct individualities! I wonder if you ever knew this, my Ev. And knowing, does the fancy intrigue you as much as it does me? The grand thing about all this is this, (and this should interest you), that if, conceivably, I ever stopped loving one of “you,” it would in no way reflect on all the other “yous".—But it seems to me I was about to end this a coupla paragraphs back. So—good-night, my darling(s). My love to Adele Bara, who, as yet, and unlike her mother, has only one hold on my heart—that being that she is the daughter of the love I bear you. But life is still very young for all of us, and who knows what fruits of love and affection we have still to reap? And,—oh yes! 
THE END!! 

By 
Your Phil 
(whew!)



June 9, 1944

Dear Phil:

Again my inability to express myself handicaps me, but as soon as you get a chance, drop a line this way.

Everyone here wishes you loads of luck in whatever you do and wherever you are.

Snuff didn’t leave yet, and we are still waiting for his notice.

Took pictures of the baby, and shall send you one as soon as they are ready.

The Postoffice wouldn’t accept your package, so, I guess we will have to be a little more patient. You’ll get it someday.

This is not a newsy letter, but its main purpose was accomplished——That of letting you know that our best wishes are with you.

As ever,

Dot

Post #387 - June 8, 1944 I Don’t Think, Sweet, That You’re Going to Make Adele’s Second Birthday and Don’t Get the Idea I’m Complaining, Chippie,—I Couldn’t. Not with Thoughts of the Boys on Normandy’s Beaches Almost Constantly in My Mind

 

June 8, 1944

My darling,

Today was a very tiring one for me, but I'm very happy! Yes, dear, two of your letters came through, those of May 17 and 18, the former with the $10 enclosure. I'm surprised you sent it along as you did and that it got through. I was very surprised to put it mildly. I'm very happy that the packages got through. Next time I'll wrap them better. I haven't sent off any packages since I sent off the one with the pictures and the peanut chews. I'm not going to send off any til I hear from you. Don't, worry, honey, I'll make up for lost time when I do start sending them again. When I say “hear from you" I mean til shortly after D-day so I can be sure of your correct address and of whether or not you have moved. I think your suggestion as to the disposal, of the $10 is very nice, but would you mind very much if we save it til you can accompany us? No one seems to be in much of a "going-out" mood what with Seymour going into the Navy tomorrow and Goldie about to pop. 

In your letter of May 18th you say if I cut my hair so much as an inch you'll give me the same dose I hand out to Adele when she's bad - wouldn't mind taking that licking right now! No, dear, don't worry, I shall not cut my hair. 

And now for why I'm so tired. As I told you yesterday Goldstein's put a pair of shoes away for me. So o - I took Adele down to try them. Ruth went along and brought Adele back, while I went on my way to work. I took my lunch along and ate at the office.

I was terribly disappointed, cause the white shoes he had set aside were of a different make and were too narrow across the instep. I had to settle for brown shoes, honey, and no one, including me, likes them. However, that does not detract from the fact that they are good shoes, well-made, and that her walking has improved noticeably in just one day. The fellow at the shop told me that he is expecting a few pairs of white buckskin in about the first week of July so I'll try to get her another pair then - for dress. The brown shoes are a pleasure, honey, cause they look neat and don't have to be cleaned twice a day. They are a 6-1/2 D and cost $3.50. 

Adele was a good girl going down and Ruth reports that she slept all the way back. I carried Adele to 5th St. to save time and Ruth carried her from 8th and South to 10th and South. I boarded the 47 trolley with her at 9th and South and bought an 

exchange for the Market St. trolley. I was 15 minutes late for work, but Mr. Bellet didn't mind. Nor did he mind that my dad brought me in a large container of hot chocolate and some cough drops. Both Adele and I awoke with colds in the morning and I hesitated about taking her downtown, but the fellow refused to hold the shoes for me and I simply could not wait any longer. That's what made me so tired. My resistance is good though and I'll throw it off in no time. Same goes for Adele.

Mr. Bellet isn't a bit strict, in fact, he sometimes sits and talks to me. The job is easy 

and will be easier once I get on to the work. I feel wonderful when I get home- not at all tired. 

This evening we have company for dinner - Rae and Mickey. Rae brought Adele a half dozen lollipops and a lot of chocolate squares. Adele sat and sucked a lollipop for about a half hour. She loved it and got all “stuck up", if’n you know what I mean. I also learned that the girls have bought Adele a birthday gift long in advance of her 2nd birthday - a doll. They didn't bring it along, but decided to tell me about it. They really intended to hold it til it was closer to her birthday. Gosh, honey, I can't get it through my head that Adele is just about 18-1/2 months old. I don't think, sweet, that you're going to make her second birthday, regardless of how early the war does end. 

June 9, 1944

 

Your letter of May 19 came this morning, along with a nice v-mail from Milt. He writes to me often, as you may have noted. He's a fine boy and it makes me feel badly when I don't have time to send off a letter to him. I shall try to get one off this weekend. No comment on your letter, sweet. 

I was so sleepy last night that I literally fell asleep on the typewriter and decided to let it ride til today. We have company for dinner again this evening - Paul and Mr. Chase (who is in to attend the unveiling on Sunday). I was fast asleep by 10:30 last night and both Adele and I slept thru til 7:30 this morning. I awoke at 6:30 (force of.. habit) but stayed relaxed til 7:30, at which time I dressed us both and made breakfast. I wore my tweed suit four days this week (the weather has stayed remarkably cool), but tiring of this, I decided on my soldier suit today. I don’t have sufficient clothing to dress properly, and will buy a few things when I have the opportunity.'

Miss Hahn nearly fell through the floor when she called and found I was working steady. She told me she was getting a new girl in (just to write orders) and I didn't think she would need me. How ever she is worse off than ever before cause the new girl can't come in, as her mother had an emergency operation. She begged me to come in, so I'm giving her a break and I'm going in to her place for a short while tomorrow. I have to work for Bellet in the morning from 9 to 1 and after lunch I'll go direct to Miss Hahn's for a few hours. Her sister is terribly ill too and she is entirely helpless. I'm a jerk some time, but I do feel sorry for her and as long as I have Sunday off I guess it won't kill me. I don't feel half as tired now as I did when I was 

at home all day. Gosh, honey, today is exactly a week I'm working for Bellet. Today, for instance, I was finished working ??? at 4:30 at which time Mr. Bellet left and his son, the bookkeeper and myself indulged in some interesting conversation. The bookkeeper is not German, as I first thought, he is Austrian and has only been in this country a few years. He doesn't like Phila. weather or its dirt. I agreed with him on both scores, George, Mr. B.'s son drove my dad and I home this evening. Seymour was supposed to leave at 1 P. M. but the time was extended to 11:30 this evening, giving him another day. Goldie feels wonderful, so I guess the baby isn't due just yet. I guess she'll hold out for a few more days.

There isn't much else to say, baby, except that I'm unspeakably happy now that the mail is coming through regularly. I love you dearly, my darling Phil, and each day brings us closer together and closer to the attainment of our dearest wishes. I feel good, knowing that I'm doing all I can to make our reunion a good one, both mentally (physically) and financially. I didn’t feel that way before. Let us hope it will be short, but let us make the most of it, as we are now doing. My cold has practically disappeared and I'm once again the same old 

Your Eve 

I like my new pen, don't you? 

 

8 June 1944

Dearest Darling, 

No letter from you today; and though the place is fairly humming with activity, it don't know of anything that I would be permitted to tell you without risking the censor's displeasure.

Last night on CQ was a tough one. If there's anything more aggravating than being awakened by the ringing of the phone bell, I'd like to know what it is (and don't tell me the crying of the baby, there's some consolation in that, at least). Anyway, four times during the night, I had to get up, throw some clothes on, and go to rout someone or other out of bed. I'd have felt much better this morning if I'd stayed awake all night. Don't get the idea I’m complaining, Chippie,—I couldn't. Not with thoughts of the boys on Normandy's beaches almost constantly in my mind. I’m merely relating what yours very lovingly has been doing since last writing (After all—one must have something to write about!)

Forgot to tell you that night before last I saw you in a dream, more plainly than a has ever been my pleasure to see you thus heretofore. You were wearing the black-jersey with white collar (with the yellow flowers), just as you are in the picture on my chifforobe! When I awoke, I realized with regret that I had failed to retain the details. Only the image of you remained. Last night, I saw you again, Sweet, only this time you didn't wear anything and the “details" were vivid and excitingly fresh in my mind when I awoke. I don't have to elaborate on the “details.” We've lived them hundreds of times—need I say more? 

This afternoon, I broke away from the Orderly Room long enough to ride down to the Finance Office to dispatch the money to you. Remember, Baby, it is for the punkin's shoes, and your dress. Wear them well, my darlings.

Sorry this has to be such a “shorty,” Sweetheart, but I really have nothing else to 

say for the moment. My dearest love to you and Adele. My love to all. 

Ever, 

Your Phil