Post #341 - April 11, 1944 Adele and I Had Our Pictures Made at Clair Pruett as Per My Promise and My Former Luck with the Cards is Very Conspicuous By Its Absence These Days

April 11, 1944 

My darling, 

Before I hit on the unpleasant aspects of this missive, I shall get off with the good news, namely: I received two letters from you today, those of April 4 and 5, one of which dealed with my returning to work. Adele and I had our pictures made at Clair Pruett as per my promise. The total of my bill (for four pictures, two 8X10 and two 5x7 all in color) will be $17.40. Adele and I posed separately, and they will probably be bust length. We were only entitled to two proofs each, but he made three of Adele. He did this cause I asked for one serious pose of Adele and he thought I might not like it. He made two smiling and one serious. I'm smiling on both. Frankly, I think the price outrageous and had it not been for your constant pleas I should not have had them made. I had originally planned to pose with Adele. Since we could only have two proofs and couple pictures rarely flatter both I thought the single poses the best, I hope this will be to you liking, sweet, and that you will be pleased with my selections, for I cannot forward the proofs. Adele wore the little blue dress Sarah gave her as a birthday gift and I wore my suit and the white blouse Ruth gave me. I walked up and back, using the walker. I wore my new high heels for the first time and Phil, though I walked 18 blocks (back and forth) I felt as if I was wearing bedroom slippers. They are the most comfortable pair of high heeled shoes I have ever possessed and I didn't mind the high heels at all. Hereafter I shall endeavor to buy good shoes or I don't want any at all. I didn't like the way my hair looked (it never looks right when I want it to) and Adele kept me from giving myself further attention. She was quite troublesome at the studio and I sweated plenty before I got her to let me comb her hair, quiet her down, etc. The proofs will be ready on the 15th, so keep your her fingers crossed. 

Phil, I don't think I have to tell you how much I love you or how much it means to me to adhere to your wishes. However, I will not be swayed against my intention to return to work. I've also thought about it for a long, long time and after much thought and discussion and talk I do not feel that I am injuring anyone’s health or well-being, let alone my own. I'll grant you that your arguments against are stiff, yet, I am looking at it in the same way we looked at the arguments for and against my going to Columbus with you. It, too, is not a necessity (Thank God) but one that will satisfy my desire for accomplishment. As for my health, I shall then be able to afford those vitamin pills in quantity and give myself every attention I need to make a nice appearance. There is no need for me to repeat the arguments for it, you know them full well. Where did you get the idea that I got sick working the first time back in ’41? I didn't get sick working, I got sick worrying about you and our finances. I’m not the type to get sick working, that is not in working too strenuously. A job sitting in an office all day will afford me a much needed rest and will free me of all financial worries and give us a future such as we have hoped and planned for. I say free me, cause I have had to bear the brunt of finances more so than you. I know too well the expenses entailed in having and raising a child and they are extremely high. A good income at this time would solve many problems of today, tomorrow and the future. As for the house, we could get a girl part-time, perhaps one day a week would be more than sufficient, and when Goldie gets on her feet after having the baby she too can chip in. I would only work five days a week and that would give me Saturday to do whatever I choosed to do in the house and Sunday for relaxation. 

Phil, you say you are taking a selfish attitude by asking me to remain in the house for your "peace of mind". Would you stay in camp indefinitely for my peace of mind? No! You, too, seek relief from the consistency of routine and the monotony. Not that Adele is in any way monotonous, but being with her so constantly without an entire day off is just as trying as your Army routine. We both know we wouldn't mind it if we were together, regardless of any routine, but I, just as you, do need a break once in a while. I don't think you are selfish about the being home, that's only a natural instinct where loved ones are concerned. Sweet, there are times when I heartily wish that you would remember that I am still a young girl that can stale from frequent sacrifice. I can't help feeling old at times, A job will give me a new outlook for a time and help my morale, which has an inclination to teeter of late. I'm thinking about myself a great deal of late and mean to give myself some thought and attention, as you may have noted.

 

I won't have to dodge automobiles, etc. for I told you that the boss drives my dad to and from work. I could accompany them in the morning, but I doubt if I'd wait for them in the evening. I'm not going to work of necessity and therefore, can be independent. If I wish to take a day off or even a week I'm sure I could arrange 

it. I intend to explain the whole situation to the boss and get him to see things my way. Perhaps I can even work less days a week if the salary is sufficient. I'm sure he'll understand my predicament and give me a break. 

Please, baby, don't be mad at me for disagreeing with you. Phil, do you think I'd be so foolish as to disregard my health after suffering so hard and so long? Do you think my mother would suggest caring for Adele if it were not my health that interested her most?

Do you think so little of me as to think I would't do right by all if I did return to work? My mother has no desire to go against your wishes, as you well know. She thought the break would do me good. She is not influencing me nor has she ever influenced me. In fact she didn't care to offer her services up to now knowing full well that she would be working harder than I. We both think the change will do Adele lots of good also. Adele has reached the point where she simply refuses all food and I literally stand on my head to get her to take enough to keep her properly nourished. However, she'll eat anything my mother or Sarah will feed her. Kids go through screwy stages and this is one of them. She wants everything she can't have to eat. Furthermore, she does not require the exacting care of a few months ago. After all, honey, I don't expect to work for more than a few months for I'm hoping you'll be home next year this time. Phil, things must be right and good for us when you do or else I'll be heartbroken. If we must be separated then why not use that time to our advantage so that we may enjoy life more fully once you return? 

Both Moms are with me and why shouldn't they be? After all, if we benefit they will too. My grandmother hasn't moved yet, but expects to shortly. I thought she would move earlier, but she hasn't been well and put it off again. Please, dearest, respect my views in the matter and rest assured that I respect yours and shall abide by them to the best of my ability. 

Adele does something new - you ask her a question and she nods either "no" or "yes" in reply. Sometimes she says "yes" or "no". She knows how to hug and gives a great big one. You know how you say "uh" when you squeeze someone real hard, well, she says that at the same time. She likes to drink from her glass alone and tries to chase me away. However, she does spill it all over herself at times and I must watch at close range. Her sleeping habits have improved somewhat and I'd deeply appreciate it if they would improve still further. I'm sure they will once she has cut all her teeth. In the meantime it's murder. I've been staying up too late for the past couple of weeks and now that I am making it my business to get to bed earlier I don't mind her interruptions as much. She's averaging two interruptions per night and that's not so bad. About three of clock the other night she got up in the middle of the crib and yelled "momma" at the top of her lungs, She had to make a "sis". She puts her dolly in that little broken down carriage Ruth gave her and pushes it all over the place. Natalie said Adele can have her doll carriage, which is quite a large one. Adele shakes her hands with the forefingers pointed (like the jitterbugs do) when dancing. She points her finger, shakes her head and says "no, no, no!”

"Our" date at 5 P. M. is always kept, but I'm doing various things at that hour now. I try not to feed Adele til 5:30 hoping that the later feeding will hold her til later the next morning. If I'm out with her I bring her in at 5 P. M. and am busy undressing her. Sometimes I'm busy preparing her dinner. Whatever I'm doing, sweet, you can be sure I'm very close at that time. In fact I've got my arms about you and am kissing you (mentally) if you really want to know what I'm thinking about at that time. I'll close now with all my love (while I'm in your arms) for I know of no better place to call heaven. 

Your 

Eve

11 April 1944

Eve, dearest,

No mail at all today—not even a V-mail! I'm missing quite a few of your March letters, Chippie; hope they come through soon.

Managed to write two more letters today—one to Brother Jack and the other to Eddie. Tomorrow I mean to write to Mom and Ann Furr.

Was busy with the officers’ pay vouchers for the morning. In the afternoon I wrote the two letters.

This evening, after supper, I strolled over to the Red Cross to sit around for a while, read the papers, and listen to the records. A fellow I know, “Oiving” (I call him that ’cause it burns him up), introduced me to a newcomer on the base, a Leo Silverman—of Brooklyn and Atlantic City. We gabbed a while about Brighton and Coney Island—then he had to report for K.P. Oiving asked if I would care to indulge in some checkers. I had finished with the papers, so I agreed. We played about an hour, during which time I managed to win five of the six games. Feeling myself in need of a “soda,” I hiked back to the barracks, and had the “soda,” and looked in at the Day-Room. Two card games were going full blast. One was for the small stakes we play for around here (6d-1s—or 10¢ and 20¢)—the other was 5s (one-buck) limit. When one of the fellows in the cheaper game dropped out, I took his place. After an hour or so of “ups-and-downs,” I called it a day (not mine)—I only won about 90¢. My former luck with the cards is very conspicuous by its absence these days.

That, my Sweet, was how I spent the day—and many many more like it.

Since there's nothing else to say (that I can think of at the moment),—you've “had” it, Chippie. My dearest love to you, today and always, my darling. A great big hug for Adele Bara, and my love to all.

Forever,

Your Phil

Post #340 - April 10, 1944 I’m Anxious for a Glimpse of My Adored in His Present Circumstances and I’m Dying to See Adele, and Spend Long Minutes Trying to Picture Her as She Must Look Now

April 10, 1944

Precious Daddy, 

Ylppee! I hit a sort of jackpot today, receiving four letters from you, I had thought I had all the mail written in March, but I didn't. They were your letters of March 23, 25, 26 and April 3 (to make up for your London letter). In one of them you were terribly disgusted with the mail situation and I don't blame you in the least, sweet. I have been too. However, my mail has been arriving more regularly than yours. I'd hate to think of how I’d feel if I didn't get some mall at regular intervals. So you saw "Madame Curie"? I’m sorry you didn’t care for it ’cause I did. Perhaps I haven't seen enough movies to judge properly. 

I called Anne this morning, after reading your most welcome letters (and that took quite a bit of time), and arranged to go to Broad St. with her. Ruth had promised to mail your packages and didn't get around to it. One of the packages contained a box of peanut chews and a box of choc. almond bars, the other a box or Hershey’s choc. bars. The former was four ounces too heavy and necessitated the removal of three peanut bars to make an even flve pounds. You should understand, then, why one box is three bars short. The girl at the post office was good enough to allow me to unpack and repack it there. Then I went over to the bank and withdrew (without notice) the $53.82 to pay Adele’s ins. and am malling it off today. The balance in our account is $125. God but it feels good not to owe money! 

Phil, do you have access to film and a camera? I'd like very much to have some snaps of you riding a bike, in the office, or such. Most of the gals have such snaps and I should like to have a few, could you manage it. I would try to get you some film if you can borrow a camera. I'm anxious for a glimpse of my adored in his present circumstances, if’n you don't mind, We’re having stormy, windy weather today, and it's not the type to induce me to walk to C. P. I've got my fingers crossed for tomorrow. I'll definitely go one day this week no matter what. I'm terribly sorry about the delay and hope you understand, baby. 

I note in your letter of April 3, to wit: "I am almost broke". Does that mean that you cannot get through the month without borrowing? How come? I’m sure the London trip didn't cost you your entire pay, notwithstanding the bond deduction, 

Today is Sarah's birthday. Petey (whose real name is Max) bought her a I lovely birthday card (something he has never done before) and enclosed a fifty 

dollar bill. It’s the first time I ever saw a fifty dollar bill, though I have seen hundred dollar bills. Lou's real name is David.

Ethel bought a second-hand washing machine as she could not get the diaper service. She is on her feet already and shouldn't be. You know Ethel! 

Glad, too, that you approve still further about single-spaced typed v-mails as they are quite lengthy. I'm in favor of them and I think they reach you in better time than the air-mails.

I'm hungry, so hungry, baby, for you and your love. The evenings are getting longer and longer and I get lonelier and lonelier for you. Gosh, darling, we were together in Columbus last year this time and I was able to hold you so close to your adoring 

Chippie

10 April 1944

Evvie, darling,

Yours of 30 March, (V-mail) just arrived. I notice the V-mail comes through regularly while the Air-Mail seems to be snafued most of the time. Your mention of Stuart Chase is the first intimation I have had that Ethel’s “blessed event” is a thing of the past. I tender my congratulations and await the details. Where in the world did you get the impression that I'm “waiting patiently” for that Claire Pruett picture? The way I've been importuning you for it recently gives the lie to that statement. Really, Chippie, nothing is farther from the truth. I'm “waiting,” yes, but most impatiently I assure you.

Last night was another dull one. There was no show after all. Nor is there one tonight. Seems the projector keeps breaking down. Finished making up the payroll shortly after lunch. Also found time to write a long overdue V-mail to Phil.

You talk about playing “hide and seek” with the punkin. Do you suppose she might be able to seek out her dad? I'm dying to see her, and spend long minutes trying to picture her as she must look now. Now that Spring is here, my longing and hunger for my girls is intensified many-fold. I'm ever conscious of a gnawing emptiness inside me that refuses to be placated. Everything that happens to me is strangely insignificant without meaning and wholly unappreciated.Tthe desire to be with you, my darling, far and away transcends any hope or wish I have ever experienced. Warm sunlight; the wonder of creamy white clouds moving serenely through the turquoise vault that is the sky; the zephyr winds that are so many sighs of content; new-green grasses covering the long-bare earth with a lush carpet—are all segments of a frame that once encompassed a happier picture, and for that reason moves me only to sadness and a tearing regret that the vision of love and ultimate contentment that has vanished has left the setting without a reason for being. (A rather long-winded sentence to impress on your woman's consciousness, Sweet, the very simple, and equally painful fact that I miss you like the very devil—to use a “man's” phrase.)

I remembered yesterday, when it was too late, that I had failed to answer your “anniversary” letter. On reading it over, I find that it wasn't meant to be “answered.” My own “anniversary letter,” I think reflected all my thoughts on the occasion. I am a fool, I know, to admit it, but, believe it or not, I had completely forgotten that first anniversary present of Gladiolas and the moonstone necklace. Frankly, I don't follow your reasoning that leads you to say the army made a sentimentalist out of me. I won't argue the point 'cause I'm not entirely sure you aren't right, but if I am what you say, then I certainly got that way through three years of catering to your own leanings in this direction. As to my falling asleep later that evening, I can only say that if such was the case (and it must have perplexed you greatly that you remember it), it was probably a subterfuge on my part to get you upstairs to bed. (Well, anyhow, you can't prove it wasn’t!) At this point I quote a couple of your well-intentioned (I hope) sentences, after which I'll leave it to your sober reflection as to why I'm insulted. (Did I say your letter “wasn't meant to be answered”—I'm just getting warmed up!)—I quote “I never dreamt (the word is “dreamed,” dear) that you could surprise me so completely, and I loved it. Perhaps it was because I never expected it of you.”—(and why not, pray?)

Don't think for a minute, Baby, that I feel any resentment for any of the above. Your first paragraph told me very well what our marriage has meant to you, and I'm most humbly grateful for your kind words of tribute. I'm merely intrigued by your typically feminine little trick of teasing and flattering in the same breath, and I'm very curious as to the way and in what terms you will impute that I am the veriest doll for “misunderstanding” you. Ah, Evvie, you are so much the woman, and I love you so much for it!

Sorry, Sweet, but I've worked myself up to such a pitch (blame it on the Spring Night), that I find it impossible to think in words that would make sense—I can only feel—and to the exclusion of everything else in the world, I can only feel that I want you. Good night, my darling.

Your Phil

April 10, 1944.

Hello Phil,

Priding myself in the fact that I don’t indulge in hackneyed clichés and corny quotations, I won’t say “Sweets to the Sweet”—and I finally complied with your request for chocolates (neat, eh what?) At any rate, I hied me down to Loft’s today, trusting the pell-mell of Easter candy shoppers had subsided (which it did) and ordered some said chocolates—one box of assorted fruit and one chewy chocolate crap of some sort. Anyway, I do hope they reach you in good order (and service). I left the wrapping and mailing to the tender mercies of Loft’s Service de-luxe. Any hopes I had of using your request again vanished when I beheld the clerk circling your (well and clearly written) request to facilitate Postal matters. Anyway, I have hopes of getting a box of Hershey’s from a girl friend who works in a drugs concern—do kindly request this for future reference (Ev says you have a sweetness for this stuff, right?)

Didn’t think I had much to write when I started, which I haven’t, but it sure takes me a lot of space not to write much, so will have to continue this on another sheet—

To be continued—but you get this in sequence).

Hello again!

Get about one letter a week from Ev and guess you‘re better informed of news on the Strongin home front than I judging from Ev’s aerial letters. Of course, you heard about Ethel’s new addition so won’t go into that.  Was in Philly 2 weeks ago and your wife’s family looked swell. Adelle Bara is a chip off the old block as you well know and is cute in spite of it all (heh, heh!). But you know about all this.

Jack is fine from what I gather and still Control Clerking—Imagine our Jackie a white collar worker in khaki (that was wicked, ’excuse please, just slipped out). He even likes it (so he says). He sent me some snaps which are witness to the fact of his daily swims and general unattire. In one picture, he looks as pleased as punch, wearing only a bath towel and a smile. I found a clipping in the Post War Program for Veteran’s and sent Jack a copy—Re: Aid Consideration in the Plan, Ev says you are thinking of taking advantage of it in regards to Journalism—a swell idea, I think, as you certainly have the literary bend. What do you think of Jack taking the Commercial Art phase of the Program?

Say—where did you learn to write so swell and get so much on one little V-mail form—next time I’ll write a letter and be comfortable (and that’s a threat). Please send a request for chocolates and, by the way, did you ever receive my Xmas package mailed from Krum’s Confectionary? Incongruous, but conserving space.

Love,

Gloria

Post #339 - April 9, 1944 I Had Plenty of Luck—All Bad!

 

9 April 1944 

My Darling Ev, 

Your V-mail of 27 Mar just arrived. I thought I would get this off early today 'cause I want to take in the movie on the base tonight. The picture is “Heavenly Body” with Hedy Lamarr and Wm. Powell. Hope the projector is in good shape 'cause this promises to be a good one. 

I spent the evening yesterday in the Snack Bar listening to a G.I. play the piano. I liked the way he played boogie-woogie and sat around for over an hour, sipping coffee, eating buttered biscuits, and listening. When he left, I wandered into the lounge and reading room where there was a radio-phonograph. I loafed here another hour, enjoying the records a guy from Bklyn kept putting on. When this palled, I came back to the hut and made up my bunk. Later, I played cards in the Day-Room. I had plenty of luck—all bad! I haven't been able to win at cards for three months now, and I'm seriously considering giving it up as a bad job—but I'll take a little more convincing yet. Luckily, I play very rarely these days. I don't think I've played more than four times in the past three months outside of the few games of pinochle which we play more for amusement than anything else. When we play poker, the only thing that amuses us is to win. 

I finally managed to write that letter to Mr Silver. I spent part of this morning and part of this afternoon on it. I'll try to get Mom’s off tomorrow. Slowly but surely I'm beginning to catch up on my correspondence again. 

I feel just as badly as you do, Chippie, that my mail is so irregular reaching you, but there isn't a darn thing we can do about it, so don't let it get you down. (I'm talking?!) 

Hope Mom got that allotment business straightened out O.K. 

That was certainly a handsome present Eddie sent you as an anniversary gift. Glad you didn't find it necessary to spend it. 

I gather from the few lines you wrote about Hal Chase that he is appearing on the stage. What I can't make out, is whether Goldie and Harry and Gloria saw him in New York or Philly. What “gang” went to see him? If it was in Philly, why didn't you go? I guess some of the letters I am missing will clear that up. Just goes to show how confusing it is to receive letters in anything but consecutive order!

There isn't much more to write about, Sweet. Today is Easter Sunday, but you wouldn't know it from any other day around here. Everyone is working just as usual. Tomorrow I start on the pay-roll, but it's fairly simple this month and I don't expect it will take me very long to knock it out. 

Well, darling, I’ve thought and thought of something else to say, but all I'm registering is blanks, so I'll sign off with the startling information that I love you very dearly—surprised? Give the punkin an extra special kiss for me as a reward for sleeping uninterruptedly all through the night of the 27th of March. A kiss for you, too, my Sweet. My love to all.

Ever, 

Your Phil 

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