Post #394 - June 17, 18, 1944 Harry Gave Diana a Name Last Night and it Cost Him $5, a Bottle of Good Whiskey and a Honey Cake and When We Arrived at the Odeon (No, Not the One in London), There were Queues for All Seats

 

   

June 17, 1944 

Dearest Mine, 

Your letters of May 30 and 31 came through this morning, both of which require no comment. I worked for four hours today and got my third pay, which amounted to exactly $42.08. I splurged by buying my dad a pair of blue gabardine slacks for Father's Day that set me back exactly $6.50. My folks gave me money to get Diana Jean something and I settled for a lovely pink sacque (sweater open down the front). Don't worry, baby mine, I didn't forget you—but the best I could do was a box of 5th Avenue bars. To accompany this I have a box of Nabisco wafers, a few boxes of chiclets, and the two packages of chocolate squares. I hope I get time to mail it off on Monday morning. 

June 18, 1944 

Dearest, I just couldn't finish writing last night. I felt lousy and this morning I awoke with a miserable head cold. My nose and right eye just won't stop running. To that, I'm “due” and feel twice as badly because of it. Harry gave Diana a name last night and it cost him $5, a bottle of good whiskey and a honey cake. I never thought to ask you, but did it cost you anything at the time you gave Adele a name? Goldie’s folks are here and these are the gifts they brought: $1000 bond from grandfather and grandmother, a $100 bill from Murray, Goldie’s brother, her stepmother made the kid three silk nighties and two gorgeous white lace slips. She also brought Goldie a pinafore, a bottle of good perfume and a box of candy, besides sending her a lovely bouquet of flowers. Several other gifts from Poughkeepsie are receiving blankets, an organdy dress, a linen pillow case and a toilet set. Mrs. Frommer got a bunting and Lena and Bob are giving her a cap and sweater set. Harry is terribly excited about the money, and I can't say that I blame him. Goldie’s stepmother made Adele a little blue playsuit, trimmed with white lace, but as usual, her work is very careless. Harry and Goldie send all their bonds to her father to hold. Goldie’s father would like to have Harry in his business with him, but I don't know what Harry thinks. I know he doesn't like the window-washing business. There is so much to tell you, sweet, that I'd rather save for when I see you—

We're having my mom and dad, Ethel, Al, (Al's brother) Ben and the Silvers for dinner this evening. Harry bought his father-in-law, a gorgeous summer robe. Do I have to say how much you are missed today??? Phil—I feel like a good cry. I've begun to realize how much of a break I had when I found myself able to return to work. Someday I'll tell you why, someday—when we can talk to each other, daddy dearest, your ever lovin’ wife and daughter want to send all their love on this, your day, and a prayer that we may have you with us on the very next one to come. Mr. Silver thinks the war will positively be over by the end of the summer. I'm afraid to even let myself think or hope in that vein, knowing what an awful let-down it would be if that were not the case. That dream you spoke of in your letter of the 31st was a queer one. I very rarely have distinct dreams but I did dream the other night—that our Jack made Sgt. Wonder if he did? I’m short on space, not to mention time, honey, so with a lingering kiss and a sweet caress, I again sign and remain 

Your Eve 

18 June 1944 

Dearest one, 

Two days have elapsed since I either heard from you or wrote to you. You see, Sweet, it is only rarely that I can find the time to write during the day, and when my evenings are also occupied as they have been, well, I just don't write. I'll have to ask you to bear with me, darling, when you miss getting a letter or two occasionally. Because I have no new mail to answer, I'll go right ahead and tell you something of what I have been doing these past couple days. 

On the evening of the 15th, as you already know, Sgt. Murphy and I went along with Klein on the Officers’ Liberty Run. Our intention was to see “Tender Comrade,” and, oddly enough, we succeeded in our intention. I say “oddly enough,” because we are so often side-tracked. Usually there are no seats to be had by the time we get into town and we are forced to settle for some inferior entertainment. When we arrived at the Odeon, (no, not the one in London), there were queues for all seats. I went into the lobby to see the doorman and to ask him what our chances were. Just as I approached him, he bawled that five seats were available. Of course I wasted no time procuring three of them. They were good ones, too, in the “circle” (mezzanine). 

The picture was very good, in spite of a good bit of flag-waving. Ginger Rogers was good, but far from perfect in her role of the young wife. At that, she would have had to be very, very good to keep Ruth Hussey from stealing her thunder. The latter consistently makes Ginger appear adolescent and generally incompetent as an actress, although her role isn't “sympathetic.” There is another gal in the picture who presses Miss Hussey closely for acting honors. I don't know her name, but her portrayal of the effervescent young bride is most appealing and perfectly played. She reminded me instantly of Marjorie Weaver in her first roles. The plot itself is simple and utilizes the expedient of “flashbacks” to get the story across. It is the type of story that is commonly described as “timely,” being the story of two young people who married shortly before “Pearl Harbor” and their ensuing history. Too many of the scenes hit “too close to home,” and I was embarrassed to find myself “spilling over” all through the picture. Richard Ryan, incidentally, who plays the part of the young soldier-husband, is very natural in the role, snd gives a highly polished performance which is more commendable for the fact that he is a comparative newcomer to the screen. His good looks are of the type usually described as “homespun.” Perhaps that is why I was continually reminded of the “young Abe Lincoln.” Miss Rogers inhuman restraint in the closing scene “loused up” the picture for me. The woman doesn't live who would have reacted as she did. No woman with the sentimental streak that she displayed, anyway. Her tedious soliloquy in this last scene is as “unmoving” as it is false. On the whole, though, Chippie, I think you would like “Tender Comrade”—if you aren't too critical of the several faults I have mentioned. 

We were hungry when we came out, so we wandered about looking for a restaurant. After some inquiries, we were directed to a small place where we filled up on pork sausage, baked beans, french fries (chips), and coffee. Then Klein took off to get the bus, while Murph and I walked back to the Officers’ Club where we waited for Klein to arrive. About ten minutes after we got there, Klein rolled up. There was still an hour to kill before it came time to start back to camp, and we sat in the cab and “shot the bull” until the officers showed.

The next day, (Friday, the 16th) was a full one. So full, that although I was just itching to get a letter off to you, I just couldn't find the time. I was busy all day, and in the evening something else came up (I can't say what) that prevented it. 

Yesterday (Saturday the 17th), I was on the rifle-range. We started just after lunch and didn't get back to camp ’til almost 10 o'clock. We hadn't eaten for about nine hours, and we were famished when we got to the mess hall. Then we had to wait a half-hour or so until the cook whipped up a hasty supper of corned beef and eggs. When I got back to the barracks, it was almost 11 o'clock and I was tired. Eleven o'clock here, besides being “date time” for us, is also time for “lights out.” So although I couldn't write, I could and did keep our “date.” As a matter of fact, Sweet, I fell asleep with you in my arms, which all brings me right up to the minute. Today is Sunday and things are pretty quiet around here this morning, for which I am grateful, since it has provided me this opportunity to write this long overdue letter. 

Last night, on returning from the range, I went to the Orderly Room to see if I had any mail. There was only Dot’s V-mail of the 9th. I’ll answer it as soon as I have completed this. 

If I receive mail from you this afternoon, Sweet, I may write again today, but only if I don't go out tonight. Tonight being my regular “night out,” I thought I might go in with Klein to see the Wolfs. As yet, though, I haven't definitely decided to do so. It all depends on whether or not I'll have time to bathe before-hand. 

Well, Baby, I guess that's about all for the time being. Give my love to the punkin. I love you more than ever, Chippie. Here's a kiss for you. My love to the Moms—and all. 

Your adoring 

Phil 

P.S. I need a new pipe, Baby, and since I can't get one to my liking around here, I wonder if you wouldn't be good enough to include a “Yellow-bole” in your next package of candy? 

June 18, 1944

Dear Phil:

Have not received a letter from you for some time, but this time I'm not berating you for it. You must be quite busy, but I will wait until you have time to write. 

You must have received my letter by this time telling you that Snuff leaves June 24th for Uncle Sam's Navy. It isn't too much of a shock to us as we have been expecting it momentarily. Of course, I can't say that I don't feel the shock of it, but we can't help but think how fortunate we have been thus far. 

As you can see by the stationery, we are down Atlantic City for a few days vacation. The baby is home, but I am having a brainstorm that I might like to bring him down here for a few weeks. Of course all this depends on where Snuff is stationed. If he is stationed near home, I won't go away, but if I can't see him anyway, we might as well go away. 

We have been getting around quite a bit lately. Movies shows, Atlantic City, etc. God Bless my Mom! If it wasn't for her, we wouldn't be able to do all these things. 

Snuff got a beautiful, Eversharp Repeater Pencil and Skyline Pen from the fellows in the shop. His two bosses gave him a shockproof, etc., watch, which was very nice. 

I don't know whether you have much time for entertainment lately, but don't miss “Up in Arms.” Danny Kaye is really a riot. You probably know more about what's going on than we do, but the news on this side is very promising. According to the news (Walter Winchell) the war with Germany will definitely be over by August—according to military records. 

The programs were just interrupted with a news flash from Honolulu that the Pacific fleet had just been in the biggest air battle since Midway. You also must know that Japan has been bombed again. Isn't that wonderful! 

The pictures of the baby didn't come out, so I'll have to wait until we take some others. 

Back to our trip, the weather, when we arrived Saturday night was delightful. Sunday was nice, but it poured at night. Today it rained off and on, so we’ll probably take in a movie tonight. Tomorrow night we are going back to the city as Snuff’s sister is coming in from Florida Wednesday morning. Snuff will then have three days home before he leaves. 

This letter, as you can see, is one of the longest I have written to you. You really rate. I wonder if I'll write such long letters to Snuff? There isn't much more I can say right now, except write as soon as possibly can, even if it is only one line. 

As ever, 

Dot 

Post #393 - June 15, 16, 1944 I Read the Headline that the Germans were Bombing England with Rocket Ships or Pilotless Missiles and If I Could Save the Life of Just One Man by Spending an Extra Year Over Here, I would Do It—Gladly

 

June 16, 1944 

My dearest, 

I couldn't write yesterday and you will learn why subsequently. I haven't received mail for two days now and I'm so disgusted with the mail that I have no appetite whatever for writing. However, here goes: 

Yesterday morning I cleaned, as the girl was supposed to come in and didn't show up. She came today instead. When I finished cleaning I did a bit of washing and then it was time for me to eat, dress and get off to work. When I got home, I ate supper, dressed and went to see Goldie. This is what happened. 

Etta and Nat had promised to stop over during the week as they had bought Adele a belated 1st birthday gift and wanted to deliver it. In the meantime, they intended to visit Goldie, so Mom and I went along. The gift was a lovely red and white candy striped pinafore that is edged with white rouching, flared skirt, little pocket trimmed with rouching, small square above skirt to cover chest and crisscross straps over the back. It's very flattering and very pretty. Since there was no one to put Adele to sleep, (My family had to go away) Sarah and Betty offered to look after her, thereby enabling me to go. 

We got to the hospital at 8 and stayed til 9. Goldie looks fine and we couldn't get a good look at Diana Jean. Yes, it will be Diana Jean, even though G.'s dad didn't approve at first. Diana Jean struck me as being a very thin baby with a largish nose, but then Adele has me spoiled as far as new offspring are concerned. Of course, she has fine possibilities and no doubt will be quite an attractive young lady one day. I don't blame Goldie for wanting to nurse—I think it would do Diana good. 

By the time we got home, it was rather late and I was much too weary to think of writing. It's kinda late now, but write I must. Enclosed you will find the latest snaps of Adele, which I think are mighty cute. Look closely at her hair, sweet, as it looks very natural in these pictures. It falls all over her head in little ringlets and curls. You know dear, I'm very much afraid that Adele has the Strongin legs meaning a trifle bowed, as picture with handbag will disclose. It may be this that is causing the pigeon-toedness I spoke of. I'm giving her to the end of the summer to straighten out, and if she doesn't by that time I shall definitely take her to a doctor. It isn't by any means that bad, but nevertheless I would hate to see any girl with legs even a teeny weeny bowed. Doesn't she look as though she's at least 3? Lil keeps telling me I'm nuts and to stop giving it any thought, that it takes time and will straighten itself out. 

I sort of caught my breath when I read the headline that the Germans were bombing England with rocket ships or pilotless missiles, whatever they are. Can't help wondering where you were. 

Honeybun, it's getting close to Father's Day and you will be missed terribly. Wish I could do something as surprising as you did, but would you mind very much if I said we miss you so much, daddy? 

Ethel and Rae were also at the hospital last night and I must repeat one of Ethel's remarks. She said as we left the hospital, “I'm sure you'll give Phil a son as soon as he comes home, (meaning I'd start in). I said I wasn't sure, but if it was a real long time since we got together—who knows? All I want right now is for you to come back to your loving 

Eve 

P.S. Mom sent Goldie a lovely bouquet of flowers as a surprise. G.’s folks are coming here Sunday for the day and the Wymans are coming over also for dinner. Sure do wish you could be here! 

15 June 1944 

(P.M.)

Ev, darling, 

Your V-mails of 6, 7 June just arrived and because I failed to answer the one of the 5th (arrived yesterday), I now have three of your letters to answer. Before I start, I want to say that the weather was lovely today and not a single thing of interest took place all day. I'm wondering on what day you began to receive my mail again, and how many arrived at once. The weather you're having sounds screwy. A few weeks back we were talking about the heat. Now it's so cool you're wearing your suit to work. 

Hope you get the opportunity to accept Tante Bosh's kind invitation to visit her at the shore. I'll bet the punkin will love it! 

Again, you mentioned her ability to jump rope! Seriously, now Mrs. Strongin, do you mean to sit there and try to convince me that my daughter actually does so? You can hardly blame me for appearing incredulous—after all—!

At last: your D-Day letter!—And “all (you) can think of is—when will it be over.” What am I supposed to say to that, darling? Next week? Next month? I'm disappointed in you, Sweet, I really am. I know the typically human failing to think of oneself and one’s dear ones first, and others—later, if at all. I thought you could be more unselfish about the whole thing and be more concerned for the safety and welfare of the boys who are going into the thick of it, than for your hubby, who is too darned “safe” for his own peace of mind in his present situation. I just can't get it out of my head that thousands of guys who have every bit as much right to peace and family and happiness as I, will die in France and possibly all through Europe in order to make it possible for the rest of us to realize the dream common to all of us in the Services. Believe me, darling, if I could save the life of just one man by spending an extra year over here, I would do it—gladly. So you see, the date of my homecoming isn't so important, when one thinks what worlds of suffering and dying must be accomplished before, and in order to make this “happy ending” possible. I'd rather you wept a thousand tears for the fallen, than that you breathe one sigh of relief or gladness prematurely on my account. Only then could I take pride in returning. I don't know how much you have thought about it, Chippie, but I feel very deeply about it knowing as I do how similar are the hopes and aspirations of all soldiers, and realizing what of both dies with the man. In all conscience, I am not unduly morbid—I flatter myself my sense of values is more matured than yours. Therefore, my own, pay heed when I say Cheer our gallant fighting men; rejoice with and for the liberated peoples; applaud each and every victory—but only after you have taken sober cognizance of and breathed a prayer for the eternal comfort of those who fell to send the rest forward to that particular goal. Remember, when you read in the papers that “our casualties were light” that the dear ones of those light casualties would find it most difficult to subscribe to the spirit of such an assertion. Keep all this in mind, my dear, so that when Victory and all it entails and produces, is one day ours, you can and will bring the proper spirit of humility to the joy of our reunion. 

The “D” in D-Day stands for nothing more nor less than “Day”—the day, get it? Just as the “H” in H-Hour stands for the hour. 

Sorry Cy Benis couldn't find the time to stop. 

How do you like your new pen by now? What kind is it? Glad and proud that you are making good progress in your new job. I'm especially happy that the punkin has been a good girl. Keep an eye on your Mom. If caring for her proves to be a strain on her, and frankly, I can't see how she will fail to be, I'll thank you to conclude the “arrangement.” I don't want my daughter to be a burden, especially physically, on anyone—least of all your Mom. 

If Harry’s concern with the invasion was chiefly with the fact that it closed all the race tracks, well—I won't get abusive until I know that such was definitely the case. I truly hate to hear that it was. Please, Chippie, tell me more about how you first heard the news, what your first reaction was, what the others said about it, etc. If I seem to be very much interested in all your reactions to the news, let me hasten to verify this impression—I am. You should understand why from some of the foregoing. 

You seem to be having trouble again in your quest for new shoes for the punkin. Hope you succeed in getting her a good-fitting pair this time. 

Just how much was the gas bill this past year that the gas company owes you money? 

I was surprised to hear that the guy who rented the garage reneged on three months rent. He seemed such an honest, upright man. 

Your description of Adele's treatment of Varton’s picture of “us” is highly edifying. I begin to have hopes that perhaps she will know her dad when he shows up in the flesh. As to that—I have a plan to test her on that score. I've thought about it often. Someday, when my homecoming is more imminent, I will explain it. The time is not yet, Chippie, so don't press me for details. 

If Mr. Bellet thinks I look like a movie actor in my picture, he'll soon be disillusioned once he’s seen me. That picture did flatter me, if I remember it. As for your own private views on the subject, I agree you are prejudiced, and how! That's one prejudice, though, that I’d just hate to have you lose. 

You probably are well acquainted with the fact that the “G.I. Bill of Rights” is law (at least it should be by the time this reaches you). Just in case you overlooked it, though, I am sending along the clipping from the “Stars and Stripes.” Got any idea in this connection? Let's hear, Baby. 

I have to go now 'cause I'm going into town tonight with Klein and Sgt. Murphy to see “Tender Comrade.” Tell you all about it tomorrow, Sweet. 

Hasta mañana, then, sweetheart. My love to the punkin et al. 

Always,

Your Phil 

Post #392 - June 14, 1944 Goldie Went to the Hospital at 1 A.M. this Morning and Diana was Born at About 9 and Fifty Years from Now, or a Hundred, Darling, that Profession of Love will be Every Bit as Earnest and Heartfelt as it was Yesterday and is Today

 

June 14, 1944 

Darling, 

Today, a miserable rainy day, is the day Harry and Goldie's daughter Diana Jean Strongin chose to be born. Yes, dear one, it is a girl and she weighed 6 lbs. 10-1/2 ozs. Goldie went to the hospital at 1 A.M. this morning and Diana was born at about 9. Goldie knew nothing of the delivery or how she gave birth as they gave her an ether enema—a sort of twilight delivery. I never got to bed til almost 4 A.M. and after a hectic day of calling everyone, six hours of work, and a workout with our own little Adele Bara, I'm kinda worn out. Your letter of May 28 came through this morning with the poppy enclosed. Adele ripped it apart before I even learned what it was. I'd like to know what happened to your letters between the 21st and 28th. In this letter you say you didn't write the night before, simply because you weren’t in a writing mood. Honey, I'm never in a writing mood when night time comes 'cause I'm tired. I'm tickled for an opportunity to sit down and just relax my nerves. But, nevertheless, I write, tired or no. When, on those rare occasions when I do skip, it is simply because there was absolutely no time. It's okay, baby, but don't be mad at me if I to happen to skip. Goldie's father called a short while ago and doesn't seem satisfied about the name. He insisted the baby be called Dora after Goldie's mother, and I think it will be a great disappointment to him if Goldie decides to stick to Diana Jean. Harry says, well, Phil and I have the girls, let Jake have the boys. He thinks, as you did, that the baby is an ugly duckling and this is the closest description I can get: The baby isn't as well rounded as our Adele was, but it does have a full round face and little curly black hair. Harry says it looks like Goldie and Goldie says it looks like Harry. I'm sure the baby will be a blonde when it is a little older. Harry thinks it has Goldie's nose—aw I could keep this up for hours. Goldie feels fine and I think she is going to nurse for a while as the doctor thinks it is better that way. Considering the way she carried, the baby is rather small. I was half Goldie’s size and Adele weighed 6.14. Goldie, however, did carry very nicely and gained 20 lbs. altogether. I'm not making paragraphs 'cause I have a lot to say and it is very, very late. Adele says “tank dou” for thank you and listen to this: This morning, I kept telling her about Dodo and her having a baby, so that when I asked her who's going to have a baby, she said “Dodo.” What's the baby going to do and Adele cries. When asked what she's going to do to the baby, she squeezes herself with her arms, meaning that she'll hug it to bits. She said “baby” distinctly. In fact, Adele says most everything. She repeats everything I say, though it is indistinctive times. She's learning very quickly though. I called Gloria at the hospital where she works and she says she's going to mail you another package. And I think, sweetness, that I've just about had my say for the day. Please excuse me, honey, and incidentally you haven't heard from Lil and the reason—she's very ill with a sinus infection and can hardly use her voice. I'd like very much to have you gather me close at this moment and hold me tight. Phil, darling, I love you so very much and I'm so terribly anxious to see you. Still keeping our date, though I have to do so at work. A big hug and a hundred lingering kisses from 

Your Eve

15 June 1944 

Darling Ev,

Though this is dated 15th, ’cause that is the date today; know that it is to all intents and purposes, to serve as my contribution for the 14th. Why didn't I write on the 14th? Don't be so impatient—I was about to tell you.

In the morning (yesterday), I was busy on the Officers Pay Vouchers. In the afternoon, it was occupied with the “Informational Roster”. In all, a very full and satisfying day.

Earlier in the afternoon, Klein had stopped in the Orderly Room to ask me to wake him at 5:30, which is when he must start getting cleaned up for his nightly chore of driving the bus on the Officers Liberty Run. I told him I wanted to go along to see Mrs. Wolf and her new baby.

We met Bert and Rita at the store, and the four of us, and the dog "Toppy", who is a very wise-looking Sealyham, taxied out to the Nursing Home where Evelyn was confined. She looks and feels wonderful. Her son weighed 6 lb. 2 oz. and appeared a healthy-looking individual. Rita keeps asking everyone if he don't think her new nephew is a "smasher". By that, I take it, she means he is good looking. I'll take vanilla! I’ve only seen a few three-day old infants, and I’m invariably astounded at what everyone else is saying about the kid. Either they are victims of a universal delusion, or I’m just plain blind!

Bert, of course, is every inch the proud parent, and walks around muttering (in various shades and inflections) "Nigel Keith - "Nigel Kenneth.” I volunteered the opinion that Neil was is a nice name. Whereupon he started a new rigamarole "Neil Kenneth" - Neil Keith", etc., etc.

Evelyn, though, is far the most interesting character of the three. If I were forced to describe her with one word, I could think of none better than “placid.” Yes, placid is definitely the word for Evelyn! I think if the roof suddenly come down on her head, she would hardly turn a hair. I can’t put my finger on the reason for this impression, but there it is. She is soft-spoken, untroubled, and is possessed of a pair of big, blue eyes that hold very steady on one's own when she is listening or talking to him. She is either very clever, or not clever at all—I haven't quite made up my mind, although I'm inclined to favor the former. She is very much attached to "Toppy,” who is attached to anyone and everyone. Bert and Evelyn have been married three years and, if I know the signs, still very much in love.

When they learned I am married and have a daughter, they wanted to see pictures. That was last Sunday, no, Saturday. I only had the Brighton Beach snaps with me, so I showed them. They were duly impressed. (And why wouldn’t they be—I still am every time I look at them, which is oftener than you think). At that time, I promised to bring some more pictures of you and the punkin the next time I visited them. I particularly liked the way Evelyn kept saying matter-of-factly “the next time you come". It was "don't bother to bring your soda next time you come,” and don't forget to bring the pictures next time you come, and so forth. I hadn’t known them more than two hours before they made me feel one of the family. You know how lonely I have been these past ten months, Sweet, so you can appreciate full well how grateful I am for my newly acquired friends, and their warm hospitality. Almost the first thing that Evelyn said when I saw her yesterday was, “did you bring the pictures?" To say I was surprised would be putting it mildly. I had remembered them, but it seemed to me that they would be the last thing she would think of under the circumstances. Accordingly, I decided to let it go 'til a more appropriate time, and left them behind. All this, Ev, should give you a pretty good insight of the characters of Bert and Evelyn Wolf.

Later, Bert and Rita, Klein and myself, visited another couple named Cohen. Her name is Sadie. I didn't catch his. They are an odd pair. She is young and blond and attractive. He is much older, bald and gray, and has a great leonine, Jewish head. He can’t be very old, though, ’cause he is tall and well-built and athletic. They, too, received us most cordially, and I hope to know them better. Bert is something of a comedian, and has a well-developed sense of humor. Between Klein and him, there was never a dull moment.

The weather was unsettled all day, turning cool in the evening. At date time, I was sitting in the cab of the bus, while Klein went into the Officers’ club to inform them (the Officers) that the bus was waiting. I made a mental picture of the scene with the express purpose of describing it here. It is 11 o’clock, but the sky is still light in most parts, but dark rain clouds hover off in one direction; cast a gloomy, gray, darkness over the ancient town, and the small shops that line both sides of the narrow, winding, street are asleep for the night, blanketed by the all-pervading gloom. The breeze is cool and fresh. A solitary civilian, hands in pockets, bent over so that he couldn’t possibly see anything but the pavement hustles by, as if anxious to avoid meeting the brooding glance of the closed shop-windows. A few G.I.'s wander about forlornly, or drunkenly in the shadows. Over all is a great silence that creates a sense of suspense in the listener. So, I sit and contemplate the cheerless yet interesting scene; but my thoughts, at the moment, are many, water-filled miles away. I picture myself in a certain well-remembered, well-loved living room, more specifically, at my ease in the cosy chair that I used to think wasn’t quite as comfortable as it might be! (Now, I can’t conceive how I could think that). Close and warm, and filling my being with a sense of sweetness, is my very own Chippie. In fancy, I kiss her brow and, most deliberately, her eyes, first one, then the other; then the thrilling pulsating sweetness of her throat; then the exalting communion of lips on lips. Finally, the earnestly whispered “I love you, Baby.” Nor does this ritual lose anything of fervor in its endless repetitions. Fifty years from now, or a hundred, darling, that profession of love will be every bit as earnest and heartfelt as it was yesterday, and is today. Good-night, my lovely. Kiss Adele Bara for her daddy. Love to all!

Ever,
Your Phil

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

 

June 12, 1944 

Dearest Phil, 

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

Your Eve

13 June 1944

My Darling,

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Phil

June 13, 1944 

My darling, 

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your Eve

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

 11 June 1944

Darling Eve,

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

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

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

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

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

Your own
Phil




June 11, 1944

Dear Phil:

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

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

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

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

As ever,
Dot

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

 

June 10-11, 1944

Dearest Sweetheart, 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your

Eve