Post #297 - February 16, 1944 Yale Stopped Over in the Afternoon and Sgt. Peppler Agreed With Me that I was Damned Lucky to Get Out of the Infantry When I Did

 

February 16, 1944 

My dearest Phil, 

Yours (3 Feb.) advising me that you already know Izzy G. is in England reached me this morning and you don't have to explain the asterisk either—I catch on. 

Adele is about the same, but I now have a beautiful running nose. I’ll bet I sneezed a hundred times today. 

Yale stopped over in the afternoon. He looks well, having put on 10 lbs. Shirley had’nt seen her father and visited for him instead of coming over with Yale. 

Harry bought a blue coat (I haven't seen it, as it has to be altered a bit) $34.50, and a pair of cocoa brown pants, $14.50. 

Adele says “boy” clearly. Sarah came in this afternoon to see Adele and when ready to depart, said, “I'll see you later.” Adele threw a kiss. Guess that shows how well she understands everything. One usually says goodbye or so long. By the way, Yale said he took his overseas physical and passed. He says men at his field are shipped suddenly, so he has no idea of whether or not he'll go. Room to say “I love you, Phil.” 

Your Eve 

February 16, 1944 

Evvie, dearest, 

Tonight I am CQ. I have just finished some unfinished business, put my bunk in readiness, and built a nice, warm, cheery fire in the stove to keep you warm. Now I am quite ready to talk to you. The fact that no mail arrived from you for the second consecutive day, however, doesn't promise much for the volume of this letter. However, let us hope for the best, eh, Chippie? Who can tell—if I sit and think and stare at the keys at the typewriter long enough, I may get an idea. It just occurred to me—the greatest story in the world is contained somewhere in these very keys. If I only knew the combination! Today was a very ordinary kind of day, except perhaps that it was the first one that carried a hint of Spring. This morning, it was my turn to be Room Orderly, so that by the time I finished sweeping, mopping, and cleaning the hut up generally (after which I shaved), it was 9:30. From then until 11:15, when I went to lunch (roast beef, mashed potatoes, peas, b & b, coffee, sliced canned peaches—are you jealous, Sweet?), I was kept pretty busy about the Orderly Room. In the afternoon, I am usually busier, and today was no exception. Red stopped in at 5:15 and we went to chow. Supper is usually a pretty loose affair. They just slap anything they have at you. But we weren't so concerned with the meal as we were with dessert, which, today being Tuesday, was VANILLA ICE CREAM. After we had finagled ourselves three helpings apiece, we decided that we had had enough. After supper, I came back here to the Orderly Room to make myself comfortable for the night—and that's where you came in, Darling, at least figuratively. I guess it would be too much to hope for to wish you “came in”—actually. Believe it or not, I often tease myself with that very idea. I ask myself how I would react if I saw you walking through the door of the hut; or sometimes, in the midst of a London crowd, I'll look for your dear face, half-hopefully, knowing full well that you are some thousands of miles away. When I I take cognizance of what is in my mind that these times, I always wind up wondering what I would do or say if I had seen you. I guess I'll never know the answer to that particular question. Sgt. Peppler just dropped in to borrow an envelope and we “got to talking” about this and that. Somehow, we got wanted the subject of the infantry and I told him something of my experiences at Ft. Meade and A.P. Hill in ’41. I find that certain nights (the more difficult ones) stand out in my memory. I compared the grind of those days with our present, easy-going existence and he agreed with me that I was damn lucky to get out of the Infantry when I did. Which all brings me right up to this moment. And right at this moment I am wishing very hard that you were right here beside me for me to fondle and pet and kiss and, a little later, if you didn't mind the roughness of the blankets, I would take you to bed with me. You understand, of course, that we’d be rather crowded, ’cause the bunk is barely wide enough for one, lett alone two; but then, we never do take up very much room in bed, did we Sweet?In fancy, whether you know it or not, you are always by my side when I am in bed. If I close my eyes and concentrate real hard (as I invariably make it a point to do), I can almost “feel” the sweet velvety warmth of you next to me. Tonight in the quiet solitude, without extraneous distractions, I feel you very close indeed, my Darling, and feeling you close, I am reluctant to say goodnight. Instead, I'll say as I used to once upon-a-time “sleep tight, Baby/ I love you.” My dearest love to my other little girl. My love to all. 

Your adoring husband, 
Phil 

February 16, 1944

Dearest Darling, 

Today was definitely a good day, for the afternoon mail brought loads of mail for everyone. I received five letters from you, namely 20th, 21st, 22-23rd, 24th, 26th January. The sixth letter was in the nature of the surprise (I still don't believe it!). Phil came through with a letter of six pages (no less). Can you blame me for disbelieving my eyes? It seems he took exception to my chiding him for not being a writing man. Some guys will go to any lengths to make liars of their critics. He seems to be having himself quite a time around Washington. This unprecedented cordiality was also great surprise to me. No kiddin’, Ev, he's almost demonstratively affectionate. Now, if I am to save face, I must send him at least a seven-pager. 

Your own letters, darling, are a joy to read. I only regret that time does not permit me to answer them individually. They are written on your new personalized stationary and are very neat. I'm hoping you get the typewriter repaired soon—then you will be able to write so much more on each sheet. It is now 9:30 and there are still some things I have to do in preparation for tomorrow when I'm leaving from London to meet Eddie (I hope). I know you will understand, Sweet, if I don't take the necessary time to answer your letters in the manner to which you are accustomed at this unfavorable time. I hope to get the opportunity within the next few days in London. I'll do better than that—I hereby promise to make the opportunity. 

Before I sign off, and in order to keep this letter from being a complete “washout,” I’ll give you the “news of the day.” 

As you know, last night I was CQ. One of my duties on this detail is to awaken everyone at 6:30; anyone who wants breakfast badly enough to climb out from under the warm blankets to get it, arises at that time. The others continue to sleep until about 7:30. I don't have to tell you in which category I belong—. Who ya callin’ lazy? I just don't like breakfast! All right, let's not argue the point or I'll never get on with the rest of the story. Anyhow, in order to insure that I get up in time to wake the others, I tell the operator to give me a ring at 6:15. I was on South St. trying to buy myself a suit of civilian clothes (with one buck in my pocket) when I was suddenly aware that the operator was making desperate efforts to rouse me. When I “came to” and heard – – – on the phone bell, I realized that it was the operator’s gesture to signify that he was giving it up as a bad job. I tumbled out hastily (br-r-r-r!) and answered the phone. Then, still shivering, I scrambled into my clothes and made the rounds of the huts and awoke all the men. That was the beginning of a day that was, to all intents and purposes, exactly the same as some other hundred days in the ETO. Even the weather was typical (if’n you know what I mean). The only dissimilarity from most other days occured about 4 P.M. when I received those six scrumptious letters (Which is where I came in). And now it's almost 10 o'clock—and I must run—but not before I say to you and the punkin and the family—I love you all. (But especially you, my Sweet). 

As ever, 
(and I do mean lovingly) 
Phil

Post #296 - February 15, 1944 Adele Must Be Teething and A V-Mail From Sister-in-Law Gloria

 

February 15, 1944. 

Dearest Sweetheart, 

Five days since I had mail and I'm getting mighty anxious to hear from you. I did have a letter from Ed and know that you were unable to meet. Just a bad break. Better luck next time, though. I do wish you could get together at least once. We also received the enclosed letter from Anne Furr and I'm sending it along as it is very informative. 

Adele’s cold has settled in her chest, making her hoarse. I called Dr. Gayl and he said she must be teething as there is no fever. I was up most of the night with her as she had difficulty breathing. He advised me to rub her chest down with Vicks. I have to take her to his office Thursday morning. 

Last night the telephone rang. When I picked up the receiver and said hello, a fellow said “Hello Evelyn.” I hadn't the slightest idea who it was, even though he said “your cousin.” It turned out to be Yale. He and Shirley came in on a furlough last night and called here almost immediately after arriving. I was flattered. He said, “How's my kid?” 

Goldie finished off her working days to the tune of the following: a gorgeous light blue Swedish tailored robe with rose braiding along the edges and her initials GSS sewed on the lapel, blue bedroom slippers, $10 in cash for the newcomer and a rattle. A close friend gave her a lovely corsage of gardenias. Harry, took the day off. 

Adele is getting more consonants. She says tie clearly. Today, she said cheese. (She loves to eat pieces of American cheese.) She makes a good attempt at many words, too many to mention. Hal Cohen’s valentine to Adele read as follows: “Your as nice as angel cake, And you're as sweet as candy, And if you'd be my Valentine, then that would be just dandy.” I think its wording is perfect for Adele. 

I finished writing Len and Anne and I'm kind of worn, hence the poor handwriting. Think I'll sign off now, baby, not however, before I send all my love 

Your Eve 

February 15, 1944

Hello Corporal, 

Surprised you, huh? Well, I'll be surprised if the above is your latest address—my address book being littered with your various troop movements. 

It's rather difficult writing you, Phil, as I'm sure Ev covers the news on the Strongin home front very adequately. The last time I was in Philly—the family was swell— with Goldie and Ethel Wyman swelling (sorry, that slipped). Anyway, your little daughter is quite the young lady and getting cuter n’ cute—looks more like you all the time (are those 2 last observations contradictory?) 

Anyway, to get to the crux of the matter and to the point—your birthday is coming up? (How can I forget it—the date being as near that unforgettable 15th of March?)—These are strange times—so it's not too strange that I am requesting you to request something for your birthday as, of course, I can't send anything without said request. And while requesting, please requisition for something you would like or need—or both. 

You hear from Jack, I presume—he’s quite busy in the Supply Division—but I won't go into that. 

Please write soon. Let me now how you’re doing and REQUEST! 

Love—Gloria. 

Post #295 - February 14, 1944 My Dad is Accepting the New Position and “My Kingdom for a Cook”

 

February 14, 1944 

Darling,

I liked the enclosed dress and fully intended to buy it. Sarah and Betty were in town today and promised to see if it was as nice as it looks. It's a black and white check, trimmed with red grosgrain ribbon and buttons. They said it was so raggedy looking they were shocked. By the way, Lit Brothers called me today saying they were sending me a coin to open a charge account. I said it was okay. It doesn't hurt to have a charge account, especially if I need something and don't have the cash on hand at the time. I'd like to know whether you like the print dress. It's rather different, and since I was unusually curious as your opinion, I hope you'll give out and not get the wrong impression. It sort of seems as though we're shopping together. 

Adele received an unusually sweet Valentine from none other than Hal Cohen. Mom received your letter, one from Zelda, Jack and Gloria. She hit the jackpot today. Zelda was shocked, as who wasn't, by the passing of Tante. My mother acted like a 16 yr. old today. Reason: My dad sent her the lovingest valentine—“to my sweetheart—my wife.” My dad is accepting the new position, hrs. 8 to 6 daily, 8 to 12 Saturday, somewhere in the forty bracket per. The owner is a resident of Logan (4800 or 4900 9th St.) and can take my dad to and from work in his car. That's not all—think of the advantage to us—we can get everything wholesale. Yeh man!! Both my mom and dad are elated. Need I say more? My dad couldn't have picked a better line to fall into as both my family and “us” need to completely furnish a house. Now I will change the subject. 

Adele seemed much better today, though her nose is a pain to both of us. It just doesn't seem to stop running. I've done nothing but rest most of the day to get on my feet. I'm also writing to Jack N. this evening. 

I had hoped to go to Clare Pruett this week, however, with Adele’s cold and my next “due” Feb. 18 I think it will have to wait a short while. Rae hasn't brought me the candy, so I can't send off the package yet. 

Yesterday the kids were really something. Snuff has taught Hal the art of balance and he (Hal) stands on Snuff’s hand, arms outspread, while Snuff raises him almost to the ceiling. He throws the kid around like a rag doll and Hal loves it. Adele called him Harold. Adele has been saying many new words, not distinct yet ,such as “ba-a” (butter), “tie,” “arah,” (Sara), and those are all I can remember at the moment. Dot, incidentally, paid me a compliment—“you're looking better than I ever remember seeing you.”

Today Mrs. Frommer came in to visit us and Adele (I only kept her in bed in the morning), walked over and sort of said hello. A few minutes later, Mr. Frommer walked in. Adele walked over, greeted him with a sort of hello sound and then pointed to Mrs. Frommer as if to say “here she is and bade him to sit down beside her. She knows them well, knows they belong together, and sees to it that they are. Gosh, she surprised me! 

Goldie stops working tomorrow. Harry (after much persuasion), is going to buy a much-needed coat. And now, my darling valentine, I love you, I adore you, I am 

Your Eve 

February 14, 1944

Darling Chippie, 

No mail today, so I'm back to V-mail. Last night I wrote a lot in answer to your mail, but I failed to get around to telling you what I've been doing these past few days. Not that there is anything out of the ordinary to write about, but I may as well keep the “record” straight. Let's see now—Yesterday was the regular routine day. In the evening, Red and I went to the Base Theatre to see Charles Coburn and Marguerite Chapman (very, very lovely) in a light comedy about an English novelist and his daughter who come to America. The title: “My Kingdom for a Cook.” Very entertaining and containing some rib-tickling situations. After the show we stopped at the Snack Bar for a coupla of sandwiches and “cokes.” Then back to Barracks, where I managed to get off the five pages of yesterday's letter. And so to bed. Today—the same old thing during the day. After work I got to feeling lazy (remember?) so I took a nap for about an hour and a half. I woke up feeling very chilly, so I got up and stood by the stove. There are only four of us in the hut tonight, and between us we managed to make a conversation. Then I decided it was high time I attended my “daily stint”—and this brings me right up to the minute. Good-night for now, my Sweet. I love you so much! A kiss for the lass. My love to all. 

Always 

Your Phil

February 14, 1944 

Dear Phil:

Not waiting to receive an answer to my letter in which I disclosed why I couldn't meet you I rush this new address to you which, starting today, is my new one. 

Everything is fine. Heard from Eve and all the folks. Last few letters I received came over in five days. Hope you are in good shape. 

As Ever, 

Your Brother-in-law, 

Ed. 

Post #294 - February 13, 1944 I Feel I’m Cheating You When I Send V-Mail instead of an Honest-to-God Letter and a Letter to Phil’s Mom from Cousin Anne Furr

 

February 13, 1944 

Dearest,

Today, I’m as happy as a lark—(well, almost). The afternoon mail brought me four eagerly awaited letters: yours of 27, 28 and 30 Jan., and Ruthie’s of 29 Jan. Your personalized stationary is very smart, Honey, but don't be too sparing of it on that account. By the way, how many sheets and envelopes did you get? Is that all? And how long do you expect that to last? Or are you going to “ration” me to a single sheet per day? (At that, I prefer it to V-mail). Y’know—the more V-mail I get, the less I like it. I feel cheated—just as I feel I'm cheating you when I send V-mail instead of an honest-to-God letter. Your solicitude for my “jealousy” is very sweet and touching, Baby, but I think you misunderstand the reason. You evidently think that I am not sufficiently convinced of your love and devotion, and probably attribute my jealousy to that. It isn't that at all, Sweet, God knows you have tendered me every evidence of wifely affection and devotion a man could possibly wish for. No—it’s something deeper than that—something that defies elucidation to an “un-jealous” person such as yourself. However, the important thing is that you reckon with my jealousy—and I know you will. I know, Sweet, that you had no idea what your innocent remarks were doing to me—and I hold no brief with you for it. To close this subject, which is as distasteful to me as it must be to you, I want you to know that I'm humbly grateful for your understanding and unhesitating desire to cooperate. Thanks a million, Chippie. 

I note you're still teasing me about the “next one.” Don't stop it, Baby, I love it! Coming from you, that particular brand of “music” is the most wonderfully exciting it has ever been my privilege to hear. Nevertheless, to get back to earth, in this case, “actions speak louder than words”—and I refuse to be convinced by mere talk and protestations of willingness. (Now, who's teasing?) But we shall see—we shall see. 

Your paragraph about Harry and Goldie is very confusing and contradictory—as I shall someday point out to you. 

I don't exactly know how I can get that discount for you on those Combevita Tablets. I would suggest that you call Mr. Kerr at Sharp & Dohme (sales dept.), identify yourself, and ask him if it would be possible for you to procure a few bottles at the old price. If he can't oblige you, forget the price angle—and get some anyhow. Sounds to me like you need them, Sweet, and I think they did you a world of good when you used them. After all, what's a few paltry dollars where your health is concerned? I won't tolerate skimping on your part in this instance—I'm warning you! 

If Harry and Goldie show a reluctance to discuss a name for the newcomer—just forget it. After all, it's their baby; but I don't know why they should feel that way about it—and deprive me of my fun. I think it's very narrow of them. But if they aren't interested—then I'm not either—so there now. 

Yes, Chippy I have visited the “nearby towns and villages,” but I am not at liberty to tell you about them, and that's that. 

The picture you draw of the lassie—rubbing the sore spot when she faws down—kissing you voluntarily in the morning—is almost too sweet to be borne. I get an overwhelming urge to hold her in my arms and sample some of that sweetness. She is precious beyond words; therefore, just reading about her is just so much whetting of my hunger for her. It leaves me maddeningly unstated. God, what I wouldn't give to hold her close just for an instant. I'm still congratulating myself for realizing in time that I would be doing myself a favor if I didn't let myself become “attached” to my daughter—my very own child—Phil’s baby—Philip Strongin's daughter—it's no use—no matter how I look at it, it still doesn't seem real. I hate to imagine what my feelings would be at this time had I “let myself go” when I was seeing the punkin every so often. Bless her little heart—I'm afraid you're going to have some real competition for my time and attention when I come home to you, my beloved girls. 

That letter of mine that reached you within five days must have broken all records. Too bad that kind of speed is the exception, rather than the rule. 

I'm going to hold you to that promise to have Clare Pruett make your picture. Don't wait so long that I have to pester you for it. 

Sorry, Sweet, but it's “lights out” for now, so I'll close with a great big hug and kiss (where did I hear that before?) for you, your daughter and mine, and my love to all the folks.

Yours,
(as of yore)
Phil

Sunday, February 13, 1944

Dear Baila,

Received your letter and it was good hearing from you. I’m glad to hear that you are going to be a Grandma again—wish you lots of luck and happiness. How does she feel, Goldie, and I bet Harry must be very happy. How’s Evelyn and her baby—her baby must be adorable. When does Ethel expect her baby and how are they all. I know it’s a long time since you heard from us. Mickey was supposed to come and visit us and then she was ill and I haven’t heard from you all since. Well things are not so pleasant with us here. Jack is in England and I’ll write his address at the end of this letter and you send it to Philip. My brother-in-law is in England also. My husband is in ?[hole in paper] since October but expects to leave from there—for all I know he may be on his way somewhere. I guess you know the feeling. All we could do is pray for their safety and quick return. I got a V-Mail from Harry N. Yuman, but I can’t make out the return address—so will you please send it to me. I’d appreciatae it. Also Phil’s and Jackie and Ben Wyman’s address. And I’ll write them.

Ma is not feeling so well about coming to Philadelphia. It’s very hard for her being that I’m working and Papa. She can’t leave the house because because Pop comes home very late at night and leaves very early in the morning and he must have a hot meal anyway. Betty is coming in this week from Springfield to stay for a week or so and Sol will come down for the weekend. Did you know that Emma and May were in Florida and are due back this Saturday. Why not come down here. It would be swell have you. Rose Emma’s met Gloria’s sister. She’s going to have a baby also. Not Rose, follow me.

Well, I guess you’d be glad to hear that Sheldon is going to school now. He in the first grade and does he enjoy going to school. George expects to enlist in the Navy in April. Seems so impossible but it is so. That’s about all the news and I hope this letter reaches you all in the best of health.

Regards to the Wymans and Evelyn and Harry and Goldie.

Your loving cousin,

Anne

Jack’s address
Pvt. Isadore J. Gutkin 3125 0260
97 Station Complement Sqd.
A.P.O. 638, C/O Postmaster, N.Y.

Post #293 - February 12, 1944 Harold is a Regular Grownup Kid Where Adele is Still Quite Babyish and I was Actually Homesick—Painfully So

 

February 12, 1944

Sweetheart Mine, 

Had a nice letter from Jack N. and he finally consented to suggest a birthday gift. He wants a khaki shirt (not an OD), but neglected to mention his size. Enclosed is his letter. The part about the gift was written on the back of the envelope. 

Evidently the Good Lord thought we didn't have enough snow, for today, it snowed again. It snowed all morning and called it quits by noon. Ruth borrowed a sled from a neighbor. Adele was dressed in a long sleeve jersey, overalls, fine knit long sleeve sweater, snowsuit, and outer sweater, knitted cap, mitts and a scarf and no less than four large blankets bound about her and placed in the sled. The sled had a back against which we placed Adele and then strapped her to it. The sun shone brightly, the wind was high and mighty, and we ran all over the place, Ruth, Adele and I like a couple of six year olds having a helluva good time. Adele loved it and I would have kept her out longer than a half hour if the wind had not been so powerful. Adele did something else today, that is something new. Betty held her hands and danced the while, lifting one foot and then the other, when Adele suddenly did the same. We all got quite a kick out of it as you can well imagine. 

February 13, 1944 

As you will notice, I didn't manage to finish this yesterday. It was clear and sunny today and, in spite of the snow covered grounds, Dot and Snuff showed up as per schedule. Harold, whose picture is enclosed, is really sumpin’. He's a regular grownup kid where Adele is still quite babyish. She, however, wasn't in the least timid and shoved him all over the place. Adele got mighty excited when she saw him and we all enjoyed the “show.” I’ve little time to write again, as they just left and I’ll describe he kids more fully later. 

(Please don’t let Jack N. know that I told him your birthday date; after all, his intentions are good.)

Adele had me up all night and I could barely stand up this morning. She had been bothering me entirely too much these past few nights, and I suspected that she was not feeling well. Today her cold broke out and she was miserable and whimpery most of the day. It's very hard on me when she's ill and I'm dog tired, too tired to continue writing. That's my trouble, I'm too tired to write clearly. I know I can do better. The spirit is so willing, baby mine, but the flesh is weak. I know you will bear with me. I love you so terribly much Phil. I was interrupted by Adele while writing this after each paragraph and it's got me thinking of one thing—that I love you, I love you, I love you! More tomorrow, sweetness. 

Your Eve 

February 12, 1944

My Sweet,

Your V-mail of 29th Jan. arrived today—and I'm reciprocating in kind. Dottie's V-mail (same date) arrived at the same time. She says she hasn't heard from me since September. That isn't true—I've written at least four times since then—probably more than that. As a matter of fact, I wrote to her just lately and was awaiting her reply. Talk to her, Honey, and set her straight will you? I'll drop her a few lines tomorrow. 

Still nothing of interest to report. The day was spent just as usual at routine duties. Today, in Yank magazine there was a pin-up version of Olivia to Haviland, and there was a disturbingly familiar quality about her legs. This evening I had a rare case of the blues and couldn't understand why—until I happened to note those legs again. I was actually homesick—painfully so—for another pair they reminded me of—which I knew so well—it seems so long ago. I find I'm perfectly content and carefree—until I start remembering the delectable Chippie I left behind. Then I'm so filled with conflicting emotions, with loneliness and longing predominating, that I'm very sorry I “remembered.” Memories are OK, I guess when one is in happier circumstances, but under existing conditions I can only crave the reality those memories once were. Goodnight, my lovely. 

Your Phil

Post #292 - February 11, 1944 Someday We May be Mighty Grateful for All It Taught Us and Some Day, Sweet, I’ll be in a Position to Tell You Some of the More Interesting Aspects of “War”

 

February 11, 1944

Darling Phil, 

Today we had a small blizzard. I was supposed to go to Miss Hahns this morning, but had no intentions of going out into a blizzard to do so. She rearranged her day so that I could go this afternoon instead. I’ve thought of something I'd like very much to have for a third anniversary—a stripe, a repetition of our second anniversary gift—if it's at all possible. I started the second paragraph with Ruth’s pen—or did you note difference. 

While waiting for the bus, I met Mr. Weiss, formerly of the candy store, at 7th and Louden and he asked me to send his regards. We chatted a short while about the Strongin boys. An oncoming car lost control and skidded all over 10th St. before regaining control. 

I borrowed a book from the neighbors—a best seller—”A Tree Grows in Brooklyn.” I hope to read it shortly. I understand it's very risqué with lots of descriptive language. Yeh, man! 

Now that I've got those few irrelevant subjects off my chest (lest I forget), I can relax. Still up to my old tricks, did you say? I'm used to getting mail regularly and miss your daily communique keenly. I find it difficult to write without a letter from you at my side. I was awakened by “Her Majesty” several times last night—on second thought, I'd better not complain, for she did her ablutions, etc. in the bathroom, instead of her bed. I arose at 7, dressed us both, gave us breakfast, cleaned “our” room, the dining room and living room, washed a few personal pieces, etc. Miss Hahn had saved her important work for me and was disappointed, to say the least. I made arrangements for Ruth to take care of Adele when she got home from school, and worked from 1 to 5. Anne ordered the stationery I bought in blue with blue printing. Sarah took care of Adele til Ruth came. Adele has acquired a mind of her own, and it's difficult to swerve her train of thought. She is determined and when refused takes a tantrum of sorts, by laying down on the floor (rear raised) and bawling for all she's worth. I pay no attention to her at these times. When such is the case, she looks to someone else for sympathy. Not so dumb, eh? She was over-elated to see me and when I put her down, only to remove my outer clothes, she clung to me for fear I would go away. I'm surprised Miss Hahn had any use for me at this late date and I'm sure she will not need me again. Her business has slumped, and I'm only an overhead she really cannot afford at this time. Perhaps there will be one or two more occasions, though I doubt it. Hope that covers any illusions you may have had. Don't worry, Sweet, I don't go out of my way to leave Adele—I hate to. There is another question—what are we supposed to do about our income tax? Is it alright for me to fill it out, if I can? It's a complicated mess, that I detest. Hm—maybe poetry is my line. 

Mom is leery about receiving your allotment. I said she required approximately $60 to live, as previously I had written approximately $140.00 for her, Adele and myself. If she should continue to receive the allotment as she did last month, ($37 from Jack and $20 from you), where would Harry shine in (from their standpoint). I stated our income as follows: 
    Harry $120  Goldie—I explained about her in the “remarks” 
    Mom $20 (from Jack) plus $62 for Adele and me
The form asked your contribution to her. I merely put “total earnings” $120, and board, etc. $120 meaning that you contributed your entire income to the upkeep of the house and its occupants for I do hope everything favors continuation of the allotment for her. 

I'm wondering whether or not Dottie will postpone our visit this Sunday due to the nasty weather. 

Mr. Weiss was telling me that Phila. will be the APO for all packages due for shipment overseas. Good ole Philly is gettin’ places or is it? 

After “talkin’” to you awhile, I get very lonesome. I want to cuddle up and feel you close. Oh God, please make it soon! I never cease wishing—that's about all I do these days. I love you, looks good enough on paper, yet I want, as you do, to tell you or even show you. I'm not going to let you out of my sight for a second when I do get you back, sweet. Don't think me queer if I persist when you are home to keep you ever before my eyes, for I know I shall. I dreamt of you all night (or whenever “Her Majesty” permitted) and you were close and I touched you, yes, really touched you and that feeling of deliciousness has kept me in a reverie all day long. Again, I repeat—I adore you my sweet, more and more as the times between us grows. That is our compensation for our long wait and who knows, someday we may be mighty grateful for all it taught us. A warm, heart-given kiss from 

Your Eve 

February 11, 1944 

My Darling Chippie, 

Today, just when I was more or less expecting a pile of mail—nothing! C’mon tomorrow! Finished up on the payroll this afternoon. Tomorrow I'll take care of the Officer’s pay vouchers and the most pressing business of the month will be completed. I mention this because I want you to know that I will be leaving for London on the 11th with a clear head and nothing on my conscience. Now if both Eddie and Izzy will show up, everything will be hunky dory. 

Nothing new to report tonight, Sweet. Life is strangely uncomplicated around here, as I've told you repeatedly. When something out of the ordinary does happen, and there are “incidents,” occasionally, we are permitted to talk about it. By the same token, the work we are doing—the very reason for our being here, is impossible of enlarging upon without risking the displeasure of the censors. Therefore, while I would very much like to tell you what “our” planes and “our” boys are doing, (and they're doing O.K.), I have to settle for nondescript items of news—such as what I had for lunch, the unexciting routine of the Orderly Room, etc., etc. Someday, Sweet, I'll be in a position to tell you some of the more interesting aspects of “war as she is fought in the ETO.” Until then, I'm afraid you'll have to be content with my usual dull brand of blather. 

I always leave an inch or two at the bottom of the form to bid you a fond good-night, and to remind you to give my love to the punkin, to the folks, to remember me to all our friends and neighbors, and finally that I am, indubitably 

Your Phil

(or had you noticed?)

Post #291 - February 10, 1944 My Grandmother Keeps My Mother Up All Night With Her Heart Attacks and Right Now I am Visiting Red in Hospital

 

February 10, 1944 

My Sweet Hubby, 

Yours of Jan. 31 brought my mail from you right up to date. The creases at the bottom of this page were made by Adele, who unsuccessfully tried to grab it and tear it. Guess she doesn't think much of my letters, huh? Your letter was so charming and tender that I hereby bestow a kiss on each precious finger and an extra special one on your well-loved lips. When you write of the uncomfortable cold, I want to run out and catch the next boat or plane for England. I'm sorry you had so much trouble deciphering my v-mail of the 17th. I use v-mails only when time is lacking and the days is too routine to encourage a regular letter. Excuse, please. 

As far as birthday and anniversary gifts go, I hardly know what to suggest. I've already mentioned a pin and earrings (gold with a zircon-colored stone), but I’ve priced them, and a good looking pin of the type I'd like runs into $50 and that's entirely too much for imitation jewelry. If you see anything nice in a pin, earrings or bracelet, okay, though I'm inclined to believe that items in England are costlier. I'd love to have a pair of good satin lounging pjs, but I'd much rather go shopping with you for such an item, and besides, I'm leery about the fit. If you decide to send cash, I'd settle for a dressy suit of aqua color to go with my aqua hat and gloves. On the day I see you again, I want to dress and be very like the girl you married one March 20th. I’ve shopped around for all items mentioned in my letters and find merchandise is “shot,” hardly any selection and no quality unless you pay extremely high for it. If I have the money I can always buy when I see something suitable. However, I've not really come across anything I'd like to buy. 

The heater has been “percolatin’” fine this year and it runs on 72 constantly. The house is much warmer than I ever recall it being when you were home. You needn’t be a “worry-wart” either, for Adele is permitted freedom to a certain extent. She falls many times a day herself, and there are many falls that cannot be prevented. As long as she doesn't really hurt or bruise herself I’m getting used to the idea that children will fall many times, and that's that. I'm jittery when I let her walk outside, but not when she walks in the house. I work hard to keep the rugs and sundry immaculately clean to be sure she won't pick up any foreign matter. I have to laugh at a remark Goldie once made—that I rush too much and do too much. Wait til she has a baby to care for! I hate rushing, but if I didn't, Adele and this house would be filthy. I can never accomplish anything without numerous interruptions, which I detest, so naturally, I try my utmost to finish whatever is at hand to be done in the least possible time. Reminds me of your “files.” 

Rae bought Adele six Hershey Bars and Adele warmed up instantaneously. Rae slept over and went to work from here. As soon as she has the chocolates for me, I'll send off the next package. I'll try to include everything you asked for and I promise to take that picture shortly. 

Betty was laid off as the company had been trying something new and having completed the project, no longer required the services of a few girls. A few days ago, Betty fell in a bus and banged her head when the bus stopped short. Today, the PTC paid off —$15. 

Did I tell you that through my mom, who has become quite friendly with a woman with good connections, politically and financially, my dad has an excellent opportunity to change his job? The position in question pays well; day work with a wholesale furniture house that sells everything from soup to nuts. If the deal goes through, my dad will quit Parkway very soon. By the way, he took your moth-eaten pants to a weaver, and they only wanted $18 to reweave, same. He did an expert job on them himself and that covert suit looks wonderful on him. 

Miss Hahn called to inform me that my double order of stationery had arrived and since I intended to call for it, I'm going to work four hours tomorrow morning while my mother cares for Adele. My grandmother keeps my mother up all night with her heart attacks. Consequently, they visited a doctor today and I don't know the outcome. 

Adele was “making believe” today. Sarah gave her a clean plate and Adele made believe she was eating. She would reach out, take imaginary food off the plate, chew it, and repeat. Then she would pretend to lick the plate. I can't get over how she says “sh” every time she has to “go.” It never fails for her to pat her cheek when she has “made,” and this habit is very lovable and cute. She sort of “crows” when she's especially excited. And she adores dancing—anytime, anyplace. She swings her arms as we dance and looks so dreamy. 

The last few days we've had freezing weather. I don't take Adele out when it is so cold. Mom sent Jakie, a Jewish letter as he said there was a fellow in the company who reads and writes Jewish. 

I've got a great big yen to love you up, so look out mister, ’cause here I come, ready or not. I love you so much, Phil. Started out like a lion, but I'm only a lamb at heart.

Your Eve

February 10, 1944

Ev, dearest, 

The big news today is that I received your two lovely letters of 31 Jan. and 1 Feb. But “first things first”—and I want to explain something in yours of the 8 Jan. that seemed to puzzle you. That phrase “your lover, as always,” was one I had never used in a complimentary closing. When that particular evening, I had typed a V-mail letter for Sgt. Trombetti, and he had used that closing. When I wrote my letter—I was stuck for an ending, so I “lifted” the phrase. Hence the (Courtesy Sgt. Trombetti). Fershtay? O.K. Your letters reached me in such screwy sequence, that I don't really know what goes on. Yesterday, your V-mail of the 25th told me that Jack had come in and that you were all going out in Milton's car. Naturally, I could hardly wait for your next to learn where you had gone, and what you had seen, and how you had enjoyed yourself. So what happens? So today I receive your letter of the 31st. But where are those of the 26-7-8-9-30? Do you understand how annoying this sort of thing can be? Don't get the impression though, Sweetness, that I didn't enjoy the letters I received today. Quite the contrary! Your description of “Miss America” and her amusing antics and her almost mature understanding of “what it's all about” makes very entertaining reading. You might send that stationery along, provided it's not too wide (like this), nor too heavy. 

You want to know what you can send in your next package. Once and for all—CANDY! (as often and as much as you can send). Don't forget there are about a dozen guys around to help me eat it—so you can imagine how much I get out of it. Of course, the “arrangement” is reciprocal, and I help them dispose of their spare chocolate when they get some. 

There is really very little to write it about around here. Can you imagine? I almost forgot to tell you that I received a V-mail from Richie Lieberman. I can now definitely assure you that he is still in Iceland. How in hell did that other rumor ever get started—anyhow? 

Right now I am visiting Red in Hospital. He developed a bad cold shortly after getting back, but he's O.K. now and will probably be out tomorrow. 

Sorry I have to sign off now, Baby, but here in Hospital they put the lights out at 10 sharp and it's now 10 minutes of. I'm sending all my love, and returning that big kiss, you sent me. Lady, just you wait until I get my hands on you—! Better start looking around for a muzzle, Baby, 'cause I'm gonna eat you alive. Better hide the punkin when you see me comin’—she's only one good mouthful. Love to all. I am, hungry 

As ever,
Your Phil