Post #338 - April 8, 1944 What Surprised Me Most was the Completely Renovated Logan Theatre and Almost Two Thousand Showed Up to Attend the Festivities

 

April 8, 1944

 

Dearest Phil, 

As I expected, no mail from you today. I'm looking forward to that London letter and hope it’s the usual longie. 

Adele's sty has disappeared and she is looking well once more. I plan to take the C. P. picture about Tuesday. Don't count on it though for I've been sidetracked too many times and don't want to build up your hopes. I'll let you know about it the day we take a picture. 

The weather has been changeable all day. First it's cloudy, then it's sunny, then it rains. In the morning it was cloudy so I placed Adele in the playpen and proceeded to press. After her nap it cleared up and got unusually warm. I stayed out most of the afternoon with her. After dinner I let her play on the porch. Harry is working and Goldie went to the movies. Mom joined me on the porch. Betty, Lou and Natalie were also on the porch. A relative of Sarah's came over with her little girl of 2. Well, sweet, you should have seen Kathy and Adele in action! We all laughed until tears came, I don’t remember laughing that hard in all my life. We asked K. to sing and dance. She wouldn't, but Adele took the cue. She sang, dubbing in all sorts of baby words and expressions and shook and pranced and swayed and danced. I asked her to take the baby's hands and make "ring around a rosie". K. was a bit shy with the new people and Adele had to pull her into it. Adele was pleased with herself and clapped and patted herself. She also has a habit of throwing her head backwards til she almost falls when she's pleased with herself. Then we asked them to sit down on the step (leading from porch to living room). K. had no trouble obeying this particular order. Adele, on the other hand, had to go through the process both Jack N. and I have described on various occasions. She was a sketch. Later she kissed K. and she then she pulled her hair. K. hugged and kissed her too. Adele noted the nail polish on K's fingernails and her little identification bracelet. She said, "Uh", as if to say why don't I have those? Adele hated to see her leave and looked after her long after her departure. What fun! 

April 9, 1944

Adele stayed up later than usual, falling asleep at 8:30. I had intended finishing this once I was dressed. However the gang next store asked me to tag along with them to see *Madame Curie" with G. Garson and W. Pidgeon, which I did. I enjoyed the picture immensely. Did you see it? What surprised me most was the completely renovated Logan Theatre. Phil, you ought to see it! It reminds me of the theatres in town. They took out the box seats near the stage and covered the walls with lovely drapes. They have new modern fixtures with indirect lighting. They have the glass framework built across the last row as the theatres downtown and drapes to cover this. What a difference! Their prices have raised due to the 20% tax recently passed for all luxuries. Upstairs 44¢. Downstairs 55¢. 

I stopped over to Helen's yesterday afternoon while out with Adele. Helen is working at the Jewish Hospital, doing clerical work. Spends two nights a week taking dramatics at Hedgerow. Jean is back in town, planning to join the Army. The Breslows can't get over our lovely daughter. I haven't seen Jean yet. 

. 

Friday night at about 11 P. M. my cousin Bella and her beau dropped in. I had been sleeping since 10 and didn't know about it til the next morning. She gave Mom the dress she promised me for Adele's birthday. Phil, it’s a beauty. It's light blue silkish material with six pleats in the front and six pleats in the back. It has a pink collar trimmed with blue and two bands of pink across the bosom widely separated, so that the second band forms a portion of the belt, which ties in back (in the blue material.) There is a pink bird embroidered on the left side above the pink band and another pink bird below the band on the right side. It's a size 3 and a bit large at the moment. Adele is beginning to grow out of some of her present dresses and many have to have the hems lowered. About three weeks ago I told you that Adele measured 31 inches. I measured her recently and she measured almost 33 inches. That ought to give you a good idea of how fast she is springing up. She was almost the same size as two year old Kathy. She's a tall, well-built girl for her age, our Adele, and has loads of personality. She looks mighty purdy in her blue skirt, white blouse and white and blue socks today. The skirt is getting small too. 

Goldie has been doing quite a bit around the house and is taking a great interest in cooking. She’d better be a good cook if she wishes to please Harry. She starts her eighth month tomorrow and is carrying nicely. It won't be long now! 

Fay isn't going to join her husband after all. He is expecting a furlough in two weeks and they have decided to let things go and wait til he can come home. Fay doesn't think Adele has ever taken a picture that flatters her or even looks like her. She keeps saying, "Phil ought to see what a pretty daughter he has !" 

April 13 is Harry and Goldie's first anniversary and I'm going to give them $5 as a gift. By the way I wish you would time yourself correctly and try to get a baby greeting here for them about the last week of May or first week of June. She is expecting about June 9th. 

 

The weather was so warm that people went coatless most of the day. I didn't know how to dress Adele. I have no "in-between" clothes. I think I shall try to get her a sort of gabardine overall and bonnet set to see me through, if such an outfit is obtainable. 

Jean and Helen stopped over this evening and we gabbed for a while. Jean prefers the Navy to the Army and is waiting to hear from the Navy, not the Army, as I said previously. She cut her hair short and is bleaching it a bit. She looks well. 

Phil and Emma stopped over shortly after they left. I'm beginning to acquire a liking for Phil, slowly, but surely. When he walked in Goldie called hello to him. Betty happened to be in the kitchen and didn't see who is was. She turned red and all the colors of the rainbow, thinking, for a fleeting moment, that it was, of all people, you. How I wish it was! I don't know where you got the mistaken impression that Phil doesn't like to write. He has emphasized, on many occasions, this shortcoming of yours. He is patiently awaiting a reply from you. He writes to Emma daily even though he sees her every weekend. He is very devoted to her. 

There isn't much else to say, baby, excepting my traditional "I love you, Phil, dear". I might add that Mr. Frommer is coming along nicely. I try, whenever possible, to end my letters differently, as you do, but usually I feel myself overflowing with such a keen desire to kiss you, or hold you, or caress you, or even touch you that I fail, mentally, to express my true meaning. Darling husband, words cannot express the extent of my longing and desire for your presence. Do we have eight more months to go??? I wonder! Be it eight months or longer I shall be waiting, as always - 

Your Eve 

8 April 1944

Darling,

I just knocked off emails to Ruth and Gloria and I'm all set to give you the low-down on my trip to Norwich last night. To begin with, I knocked off work a little earlier in order to wash, shave, and dress in time to get on board one of the two trucks that left from the base. There were about two dozen of us, including two officers, and we had to install three extra chairs to accommodate us all. The trip, thanks to the antics of Klein and the general air of camaraderie, was pleasant rather than otherwise. Our hosts in Norwich had hired the largest dance-hall in the town for the occasion and had filled the place, including the balcony which ran across all four sides of the hall with tables and chairs. They had expected and made preparations for a thousand. As usual, they underestimated, sadly—almost two thousand showing up to attend the festivities. This number isn't surprising when you consider the fact that the proportion of Jews in the Services is (as I learned recently), eight percent. This ratio is just double that of the percentage of Jews in the United States in proportion to Gentiles—(4%). The Protestant chaplain at this base (Capt. Wheeler) is wholly responsible for these Holiday excursions. He has made every effort to see that the Jewish fellows want for nothing as far as he is able to provide it. This warm cooperation and friendliness strike a responsive chord in each soldier’s heart, and he is well-loved by all who are fortunate enough to know him. He attends many of our services and once talked to us on the “Christian Religion and how it Resembles and Differs from the Jewish.” Never before had I listened to a speaker with more interest. Never have I learned so much in so little time. I know it surprises you, Sweet, that I am taking an increasing interest in religion, but it is true that such is the case. Someday when I have a lot of time and little else to write about, I will enlarge on my new attitude. Right now I'm way off the subject. To get back—when we arrived at the Hall, every available seat was filled and soldiers milled about in the cloak room, in the foyers and entrances, and in the aisles. Most of us hadn't eaten since lunch. I was one of that number, and I was famished. My first reaction to the situation was to get out of there and find a restaurant, but the crowd was so immense, and the reason and nature of it so unprecedented, that I couldn't tear myself away. I was greatly intrigued at the spectacle, and would probably still be gaping at the wonder of it, had not Rosenzweig come along to ask me where we were going to eat. Klein, to be sure, managed to snare a seat at table and was already eating. Rosy and I hopped a bus to the center of town where we managed to find a restaurant. We feasted on fish n’ chips. An M.P. Sergeant took a seat at our table and we were soon engrossed in the three-way conversation. So preoccupied were we, that we failed to take account of passing time. When we finally thought to look, it was just past nine o'clock. The trucks were scheduled to start back at 9:30, and we were at the other end of town. We jumped up out of our chairs as if we were sitting on hot coals—paid the bill hastily, and made a wild dash for the last bus. It was gone—and we thought we were “goners.” Looking about for a cab, we learned from a Bobby that a woman cabbie was in a nearby pub waiting for two more fares before she would consent to take a British civilian and his small son where they wanted to go. While she waited, she was “tanking up.” When we arrived on the scene, she said she would take us. When Rosy tried to explain to her that we were in a great hurry, she said, “O.K., O.K.,” and proceeded to take her own sweet time. I was so disgusted with the whole situation that I didn't even bother to get mad about it. Rosy, however, was literally hopping in his impatience to get started. Finally, at 9:20, she decided to be magnanimous about the whole thing and told us to get into the cab. She came out shortly afterward, fetching a fellow from the pub to get the cab started. This consumed another precious three minutes. In spite of everything, we arrived at the Hall on the dot of 9:30! Had we known the distance was so short, we could have saved time by walking. We hustled frantically through the dozens of parked G.I. trucks for our vehicle. No soap. After checking each and every one, we failed to find them. We were plenty apprehensive by this time 'cause we had no business in town over-night and would certainly have been picked up by the M.P.’s on that account. Visions of the guard-house stared us in the face as we groped about disconsolately and hopelessly in the deepening dusk. We're truly at our wits’ end when two big trucks came rolling past. Just as the second one was opposite where we were standing, I heard Klein yelling lustily “Phil,—Phil.” He got no further ’cause just about then, Rosy and I let go with our best yells (made even better, I fancy by the added note of desperation). The fellows in the back of the truck immediately set up and unholy din of yelling and whistling and stamping their feet to attract the attention of the driver. After going a block further, (Rosy and I running like mad to catch up), the driver was suddenly aware of the turmoil behind him, and stopped the truck to find out what was causing all the commotion. While he was finding out, Rosy and I clambered aboard. Klein had found time to get a few drinks in him, as had some of the other fellows, and a true Holiday spirit prevailed all the way home. Klein sat on the tailgate, precariously supported by the safety strap and made like Hitler. His version is comically exaggerated and, although I've seen him do this particular routine a hundred times, I couldn't help but laugh. Then the rest of the gang got into the spirit of the thing, and every time Klein would raise his hand as a prelude to his spouting, they all shouted “heil!” in unison. Klein made a dozen false starts this way, his suppressed zeal mounting with each interruption, until he seemed to be filled to bursting with all the things he wanted to say but couldn't because of the constant “heiling.” Finally, the guys let him “work off steam,” whereupon he immediately became convulsed into a fit of coughing—pounding his chest and gasping for air. We all got a great kick out of this impromptu comedy client. Klein attempted to lead the singing that followed, but soon found he was so hoarse from his previous rantings, but he had to give it up. Klein’s singing, incidentally, is in a class by itself. He purposely starts on a high key and goes along “rippingly” (as the English say) until he reaches a note just out of range, or I should say—tries to reach it. His voice cracks wide open, and he strives mightily to attain that note. His antics, at this time, are wondrous to behold. He raises himself on his toes, lifts his face, beats his chest, coughs, groans, tears his hair, and does everything but tears his throat wrote in his frenzied efforts to get that note. (Any day now, he'll work himself up to that point.) You can readily imagine, Chippie, that when Klein is around, there is never a dull moment. When we arrived back in camp, we all headed for the Mess Hall. Most of the fellows still hadn’t eaten. I wasn't hungry though, having filled up on the fish n’ chips. Just keep Klein and Rosy company, I fooled around with the bowl of corn-flakes. We walked from the Mess Hall to the hut in bright moonlight—And so to bed. What a night!

I had intended to answer your “anniversary letter” of 20 March, but I haven't had any mail for two days now, so I think I’d better save that for tomorrow.

Good-night for now, Sweet. I haven't missed keeping our date yet—have you? Kiss the punkin for me Give my love to all. I adore you.

Your Phil

Post #337 - April 6, 1944 Mr. Frommer was Rushed to the Hospital from Work Yesterday and What a Vindication of My Judgment!

 

April 6, 1944

 

Best Beau, 

(Some thing new - for a change). I received three letters today and that, counting the three letters I received yesterday brings me up-to-date for March, with the exception of the 31st. No doubt that is the London letter you mentioned. Need I add how happy I am about the letters? 

Before I comment on your letters I'll "give" with some "news". Harry Weinman is in England and his address (the latest I have) is Pfc. H. W. 33,072,683, Co. "D", 507th Par. Inf., APO 813, c/o P. M., New York, N. Y. Perhaps you will be able to contact him and vice versa. Here's hopin'. 

I also had two other letters, one from brother Jack and one from brother Ed. Jack S. expects a furlough shortly and will spend it in one of the large cities of Australia. He said he made a: sketch of one of the fellows with colored pencils and it turned out swell. In a letter to Goldie he said, "The way I feel now I could knock out a dozen kids!” Yeah, man! Eddie's letter was short and contained nothing in the way of news. 

Mr. Frommer was rushed to the hospital from work yesterday with a turned over hernia and had to be operated on instantaneously. It happened so suddenly that they could not find time to give him ether and gave him a spinal instead. So far, so good.

Adele's cold is vastly improved and I had her out for a short while this A. M. The weather is nice, but still too chilly. I took my black silk skirt to the tailor in the meantime. When I put her up for her nap, I headed for Wolpe’s and Broad St. to do. some shopping. Wolpe made up the serious pose and I like it very much. Then I went to the Acme and got an order of groceries, etc. If everything is alright this weekend or the beginning of next week with both Adele and myself, and the weather is nice, I’ll positively head for C. P. without a shadow of a doubt. I'm sorry that I must apologize again for the delay. Adele doesn't look well and that is the main cause of delay. Her nose runs continually, and while she is vastly improved, she doesn't look as well as usual. It should be completely well by this weekend. 

Sarah has a lovely pair of gold earrings and whenever Adele chances to see her when she is wearing them she begs her to put them on her (Adele's) ears. Adele looks like a little gypsy girl with those gold earrings and holds her head erect to show off. Natalie and I had a catch with the ball to amuse Adele, but she joined in and did alright. All this took place on the porch in late afternoon.

Honey, it is now after ten and I shall relate, in due time, what transpired to keep me from posting this. 

I have it from Bob that Richy is now definitely in England so you should be hearing from him in the near future. I can't understand why you haven't heard in reply to your letter. I do know that Richy has been "commuting" between England and Ireland. Why I don't know and you wouldn't expect me to. 

Ben made Cpl. and they received a letter from him from New Guinea. Jack is dyin' to see someone he knows and he'll be happy to meet up with Ben, if and when they do. 

I intended to go to Ethel's this evening to help out a bit, but they seem to be doing nicely without our help. We're so darn busy trying to get the house in shape for the Passover holidays that we don't have time to breathe, let alone helping someone else. 

I was dressed and since my mother received her refrigerator (Frigidaire), which is one of the best on the market, and the maple bureau and bed she bought for Ruth, I stopped over to the house to see all. Everything is very nice and will be put to good use. My mother ordered a few things for my father's boss for Passover and he was going over to deliver it. His boss lives at 4937 N. 9th St. and I offered to go along, being anxious to make the acquaintance of my boss-to-be (I hope) and I had a nice time. You ought to see that home, with wall-to-wall rugs - need I go on - I'm not in the mood for descriptions - suffice it to say everything was lovely. I met Mr. & Mrs. Bellitt (I think that's how it’s spelled) and we talked of many things, including you, sweet. They have three sons, two of whom are in the Army. One of them is also in England. Funny that I don't know them. Their pictures didn’t even strike a familiar note. They were very friendly with the boys who used to live in our house. I didn't talk about a job, cause I have no definite plans and want to wait til I do. I asked him about a metal stroller and he said he expected to have them in stock shortly and could let me have one for about $9 or $10, which is much less than I thought they would be - wholesale. I showed him the picture of you and he said it was nice - but why didn't he smile? I also showed him the large serious pose Wolpe had made, and which I happened to have with me, and he liked her and it immensely. They remember seeing me around, but I don't remember them. 

Yesterday I told you that I have three boxes of various 5¢ chocolate bars to send off and a box of Stevens candy. I tasted one of the chocolates in the latter box and they don't taste so good. I guess the three boxes will hold for a while, huh?

Now for some comment on your letters. Both contained requests and will enable me to send off the two packages tomorrow. Ruth works at the five and ten and will drop them off at the sub-post office station on Broad St. You returned the clipping of the shoes I bought and I, too, like the oxfords. However I don't think I'd care for a pair of the same leather - one pair is enough. I need a pair of Oxfords badly and can't do a thing about it just at present. I don't have a ration stamp - I used it for Adele. The new stamp goes into effect on May 1 and I'll get them then.

 

You say you received the package containing candy, cookies, chiclets, underwear and a hanky. Did you like the cookies? Can you use the underwear? Was the candy in good condition? Was there much left after you passed some of it out? Do you still wish me to send chiclets and chewing gum? I can't get chewing gum, but I think I may be able to get chiclets. I'm concentrating on 5¢ bars, which seem to be a great favorite with you. Am I right? . 

Everyone raves about the "Happy Birthday, Evelyn" poem and I'm extraordinarily proud of it. Betty is taking it to the office tomorrow. She begged me to let her show it to one of the girls, who also has a knack for writing. Betty couldn't get over the poem. Everyone thought it clever and original and so it is. I could eat you for being so sweet, my darling. (The girl thought it excellent.) 

I'm wearing my new brunch coat today with varicolored flowers and everyone seems to think it is exceptionally pretty. I kind of like it myself. 

Phil, dear, I'm having trouble keeping my eyes open and there not being any rush about getting this off tonight, I shall continue on it tomorrow, with, of course, your permission. What do you say, honey, do we or don't we go to sleep instead. Ah, if only we could - we wouldn't sleep, would we, dear? Good night, baby, I'm right behind you, as always, with all my love. 

April 7, 1944

Don't look now, but here I am again! Good morning, baby, it's time to get up - or shall we turn over and take another forty winks": I'm in favor of the latter, if'n you don't mind.

 

No mail today except the notice to pay Adele's insurance. Once that is paid we haven't a debt in the world til next year. YUM YUM! 

Adele has a new one. When she doesn't know exactly how to express herself she says "dub dub dub dub." Of all things she now has a sty. She likes variety it seems. 

Goldie, Mom and I chipped in (for a change) and got some real work accomplished today. This place got the "once-over" and it needed it badly. The weather was lovely, but I had no time to take Adele out. The knick-knack shelf hanging near the living room window fell down and two knick-knacks broke, the old-fashioned couple that Tante Bosh gave us and a flower-like vase. Hope it means good luck and that you'll soon be with me. 

We had a delicious dinner this evening though I doubt whether you would call it "delicious". Tante Bosh gave us a half gallon of delicious wine (I'm acquiring a taste for wine) and just a drop of It made me just a little bit woozy. (Don't you just wish you were here now to take advantage of me?) (Everything seems to be "just".) 

I took our picture out of the black frame and put the serious pose of Adele in. I want to buy a frame for the picture and until I do I shall use this one. I have our picture, standing as is, on the chest against the vase of leaves. I hope to get one from my father's place when I go down for a stroller. 

My sister bought a yellow spring coat, box style or chesterfield, as they are called. She paid $25 for it and I doubt if it is worth it. The coat is nice, but the material is of an inferior quality, and not to my liking. She is one of the "Sinatra Swooners" and I give her hell for it. No, dearest, I'm not a follower of the "voice". I like his singing, and don't mind listening (minus scream) but he isn't that good. I'll take Bing Crosby any day. 

 

Ruth gives me a tin ear on every occasion about "her" Arthur. That's the red-headed fellow I told you about that sings on the Horn and Hardart hour. I guess you'd call him her first "crush". 

Fay is joining her husband next week - with the baby. He is in S. Carolina and thinks he may go overseas in about two months. He got her a three room apartment to share with another couple at $35 each per month. Elsie's husband leaves in May. Yep, the Army is cleaning them all out. Enclosed is the address of Fay's brother, who is a nice guy. I have a hunch he is on the same base with you. He won $125 in a card game recently - whew! - that's a lot of winnings. If you want to meet him go to it. 

I can't seem to think of another things to say, except, of course, that I love and adore you, my own, and hope that we will be reunited this time next year. I'm wondering how you spent the evening (I'm sure you are having a Passover dinner) and I can't wait to hear from you. I wish, very much that you were here this evening. "I'm in the mood for love" - aren't I always - 

Your Eve

6 April1944

Ev, dearest,

This morning I cleaned up all my work that has been hanging fire. It is just after lunch and since I expect it will be a pretty slow afternoon, I thought I'd take advantage of the lull to answer your last three letters. I forgot to mention that I also received a BIG birthday greeting from Gloria—you know, the kind you unfold and unfold and, well, you know. Hope to find time enough today to drop her few lines in acknowledgement.

You started your letter of 11 March by telling me what you did with the $12.00 you had put aside for Betty. It was kind of all you Strongins to buy Bea those pajamas on her birthday. She's a good kid and deserves that kind of consideration. I'm not surprised the Browns are so good to you. You're pretty nice people yourselves. The brunch coats sound cute—wear them well. I'm glad to hear that you got acquainted with ”Dotsy's married sister” (whatsa matter, hasn't she got a name of her own?) 'cause I like pretty people—and she is definitely pretty people.

You mentioned the pinafore that Goldie's mother made (for Adele, I presume) and deplore the fact that the stitching is poor. It struck me it might be a good idea to go over the stitching in a heavy colored thread (saddle-stitch I believe it's called) like you have on the collar of your brown slack suit. Is it practicable? Which reminds me you haven't told me what you decided to do about that fur hat.

In discussing the merits of nighties as compared to pajamas, you say they (nighties) do have their advantages, don't they, dear?” How the hell would I know—dear?

Sorry, the mail isn't reaching you regularly, Sweet, but those letters you say you are missing will get there eventually.

What's all this about Mayer Taylor? I haven't heard or read anything.

You continued the letter next day (Sunday)—and the Browns were over. Dottie's new address duly noted and recorded. You remind me that our third anniversary was approaching and pray that it will be our last one apart. I'm sure it was, darling. Those tender sentiments you included are deeply appreciated, and if you think the first three years proved anything, then I can only say, “Lady, you ain’t seen nothin’ yet!”—reminds me of a cute joke I read someplace.—Here it is in Reader’s Digest, March/44)—I copy it verbatim: A well known actor notorious for his caustic wit was having a quarrel with his wife. After a particularly biting remark, she burst into tears and said:

“How can you treat me like this when I've given you the best seven years of my life!” “Good Lord,” replied her husband, “were those your best?”

Tant should be grateful for the way you are corresponding with Milt and Syd. I think it's swell of you, Chippie, and I'm mighty proud of you for it. I think a good many people have had cause to change their conception of you since those days when we lived on Chestnut St. You are, whether you ever realized it or not, the strongest personality in the entire family (and I include the Browns, Wymans, and the other section of the Strongin clan), and, unless I'm greatly mistaken, the most admired and best-loved. What a triumph for the “kid“ that everyone “looked down their noses at” a few short years ago! What a vindication of my judgment! Do you wonder why I'm so proud of you, my lovely? Surely, no woman ever gave her man more cause for feeling so!

Jack's valentine is a damn good effort, I think, and a perfect example of what foreigners are pleased to call “Yankee ingenuity.” Just goes to prove that nothing is beyond the talents of the Army—even in the jungles of New Guinea. Bet it's more than Gloria ever dreamed of getting under the circumstances. That about covers your letter of 11–12 March, except for the closing paragraph, to which I can only say “I love you, too, Ev.”

You took advantage of Adele's nap to start the letter of the 13th. Glad you like the idea of my allotting $18.75 of my pay every month from for a war bond. Sort of gives us some compensation for the length of the war, doesn't it? I mean, the longer, the more the more bonds we’ll have, get it? Not that it detracts any from my greatest desire—to see the war end tomorrow—not a bit of it!

Those compliments you were paid on your letter-writing ability were not sheer blarney, I assure you, Sweet. Like good whiskey—you improve with age.

That letter of mine that reached you in six days set some sort of a record, didn't it? I repeat—no one will know about the bond.

Out of the clear blue sky, and apropos of nothing, you switch to talk of the next baby—again. I didn't say a word—honest!

Yes, Chippie, you do make quite a few typographical errors. (But who am I to criticize?) Incidentally, the word is d-e-v-i-a-t-e (not diviate), which takes care of that letter. Now for the 14th.

The hint that Harry W. let drop is good news. I certainly would like to see the Limey again, but I'm having so much difficulty with Eddie and Jack Gutkin that I'm not counting on being able to see him even if he does come to England. Ground troops and combat outfits get very few passes and are usually located in out-of-the-way places. However, here's hoping.

Keep me posted on how Mom is coming along with her diet. Isn't it time you visited the dentist again, Chippie?

It's good to know you are contemplating going to C. P. I suppose that's better than if you ignored it entirely, huh? I've used all the inducements and artifices of which I'm capable to get you to oblige me in this matter, and I've been waiting for action since early December. I don't intend to mention it again—I'll leave it to you and your conscience.

Which all takes care of the current mail. If I get a coupla letters today, I won't be mad.

Until tomorrow, then, sweetheart, I'll bid you a fond adieu. Buy the punkin an ice-cream cone for me—chocolate. Have a Sundae on me while you're at it—(I don't care how I spend your money.) My love to all.

Your adoring

Phil

6 April 1944

Dearest Darling,

Just finished cleaning up and dolling up in my “Class A's” preparatory to attending the Passover Seder in Norwich. I have about an hour and a half to kill before starting, so I thought I would get off my “daily dozen” to you.

Yesterday afternoon, after I had finished writing, the mail came in. I received two of your letters (19 and 20 March), and Ruth’s of the 19th. After supper, I was uncommonly tired and laid down to grab 40 winks, meaning to get up in time to catch the second show at the Base Theatre. Next thing I know, someone was shaking me and saying “get up and go to bed!” It was then 10:30—I had slept like a log for almost four hours!

In reading over your letter of the 19th, I find there is very little that calls for comment, although it is very well written and altogether interesting. Two things pleased me. First, your opinion that Adele “has a nice little figure and pretty legs—etc.” You wonder, you say, what my reactions would be to some of the things she says and does. I think I can answer that for you, Sweet. As you are well aware, by nature I am shy and diffident. Demonstrativeness (especially toward an infant), somehow always had the power to embarrass me, make me ill-at-ease and uncomfortable. Therefore, my Chippie, do not be too greatly surprised if I fail to make the customary “fuss” over the punkin when she says or does something exceptionally cute. Inwardly, no doubt, I will be fairly seething with paternal pride and affection, but it may not be reflected by any overt action on my part. Of course, there is always the possibility that I may outgrow this “backwardness” and talk “baby-talk” and make a great to-do over my daughter, just as any normal dad might be expected to do, but if I know myself, and I think I do, I wouldn't encourage you to expect it of me. On the other hand, you know better than anyone that I am far from being “cold potatoes” when it comes to reacting to feminine charms and wiles. If the punkin is anything like the charmer, everyone would have me believe she is, then she can expect plenty of lovin’ from her dad, but only in private and not for public display. Does all that give you a pretty good idea on the subject, Baby?

The other thing in your letter that warmed the cockles of my heart, was the favorable comment your outfit drew when you dolled up to go to Dottie's. I love to picture you decked out in your finest, ’cause the image in my mind's eye is most attractive and pleasing.

Forgive me if I seem to cut this short, Sweet, but if I'm to go along to the Seder, I'll have to hustle. See you tomorrow. All my love, Baby, to you and my other dear li’l Chippie, Adele. My love to all.

Lovingly,

Your Phil

P.S. Tell Mom she'll be hearing from me within the next few days. Give her my love.

April 6, 1944

Dear Phil,

At this moment my thoughts too are jumbled and I hardly know which thoughts, and much less the sequence, come to mind on receiving your long looked forward to letter, despite the fact that it was at 5:45 I received same and it is now but 6:20 of the very same P.M.

I do know however, that you still have to make up to me for the meal I could not enjoy in the keen anticipation of reading your letter when I was done with it, the meal. I took it out at the chow table but hastily replaced it from whence it appeared on admonition from “sarge,” who made a face when I walked in about 15 minutes late. At any rate, I did finally finish, and honestly Phil, it's little things like what occurred immediately after, that bring to light the qualities of our friendship that receive nourishment from a bottomless well that our association has created; for I actually ran to my barracks, threed up the stairs pounced my posterior on my foot locker, withdrew your letter and hungrily started to read. Why can't you write more often? Anything you have to say is such interesting reading that my appetite for same is insatiable. I admit that after about the seventh reading, familiarity dulls the text somewhat, but never to the extent where it's just put aside for good. That my friend is the truth, unseemly as it may sound.

(Honest, censor, this is no bullshit. We've known each other all our lives. O.K.?)

Phil, it's strange how our feelings parallel one’s another regarding reference to last letters before starting a reply. I’m not too certain though that downright laziness doesn't play a prompting role where I'm concerned. Of course, having just read and reread your last, it's simple to refer only to my mind to comment on all your writing, and I think I shall, for it is certainly all deserving.

May I compliment you on accomplishing what I had thought was, even for you, impossible. You’ve kept hidden from me your jealous streak. May I, at the same time, thank you for disclosing it to me as you did, crediting me for not arousing it where it is the most easily apt to manifest itself, Evelyn. Oh how swell that makes me feel!

Now, -- --- I can only say, That’s it ! Your “fitness of things” analysis is so exact that it scares me a little to learn how very well you know my subconscious mind. (Your “Adeline” exposé being no small contribution to said feeling.) It seems that I've inherited from the dearest person to me, a trait that is self provoking, that of being overly sensitive to convention. Despite that it bothers me not one whit, oh well, not one half a wit that laziness shall cause me to address a near future “news” letter to “Dear Phil and Ev.”

It was interesting to know, that, of the similarity of the description between me and Ev. Of course the cause might lie in the fact that we were both describing the antics of that same, sweet, snip of a Strongin. (It seems I've heard “snip” used degradingly. I refer to it only as a cut off the cloth.)

About three weeks ago Lenny received an assignment to photograph en route via plane from Nashville to Reno a radio outfit group. He returned by train and somehow happened to be delayed in Pando, site of Camp Hale. (How he explained the delay to parties concerned does not concern me.) But he was here. During the thirty six hours we spent together it was make believe world we were in. We ate in the same mess hall. We slept under the same roof. We bowled together. I “one day passed” to Denver to ride by his side when he had to leave. What more is there to say? Of course I'm a little ashamed to say that I had him working with me in my darkroom to help me catch up on my printing but compensation was enjoyed because we developed and printed a picture or two of us that a timely present civilian “surveyor” from Washington had made of us. “Surveyor” calls for more pay than photographer, hence the deception. All of which brings to mind a bit of reparteé that tickled the shit out of me as the South would have it. Though terribly lacking in literacy this Southern boy is gifted with a rare sense of humor and wit unabounding and the smile, infectious.

In my jeep, a surveyor had left the tools of his trade. Rod (the boy) on seeing contraptions which boxed and with tripod appeared not unlike my own outfit, said to me, “O.K., Jack,” striking a stance “take mah pitchuh.”

“But Rod,” I remonstrated “this is no camera, but a transit.” (Engineers had taught us both what a transit is.)

“Hell, then,” he acquiesced, “survey me!”

Your pal always,

Jackie.