Post #396 - June 20, 21, 1944 I Expect to Hear that Dennis Jay Strongin (What a Monicker!) was Born on 14th June

 

20 June 1944

My Dearest,

Looks like I'm slipping, don't it? In my correspondence, I mean. Instead of my usual letter-a-day, I've been falling into the habit of writing every other day. This isn't as I would have it, sweet, and I’m sure you much prefer that I write every day. Sometimes, though, in order to do so, it would mean sacrificing a whole evening in town, and i'm most reluctant to do so, now that I've made some friends there. Really, sweet, my letters, if I wrote daily, would be very dull indeed. Because this would preclude my "going out” and thus deprive me of the means, the material for a readable letter, I’m sure you will agree, Chippie, that you gain by this arrangement, in the end. The alternative means that by the time I could get a letter off to you in the evening, Klein will have left. Since I must depend on him for transportation, I must either go with him, or spend the rest of the evening wondering what in hell to do with myself. However, in spite of all this, and because I am as anxious to write daily as you must be to receive a daily letter, I will continue to make every effort to write every day. Moreover, darling, I don't expect to go to town more than twice a week, and most weeks I'll go only once. I tell you all this, Chippie, so that you won't chafe at a delay of a day or two in receiving my mail. It is four days, now, since I've heard from you and i'm wondering if there'll be anything for me today,

Last night, as you must have gathered, I went out again. It had been a very nondescript day, with nothing much happening to break the monotony. There was no mail to answer, it was a lovely afternoon, and I was in the mood for a movie. There were two pictures to choose from. "Heavenly Body" and "Hers to Hold". I was in a quandary, ’cause I hadn’t seen either and wanted to see both. Klein was indifferent. I finally decided that I'd rather see Deanna Durbin than Hedy Lamarr. After all—Deanna also sings! Fortunately, it was a happy choice. Deanna is as lovely in this one as I’ve ever seen her, with the possible exception of her role in "His Butler's Sister.” Her singing, always thrilling, must, nevertheless, take second place to the charm of her as she plays the starry-eyed young thing romantically and unashamedly in love for the first time The tenderness she displays in the “clinches” makes Joseph Cotten, a pretty good actor in his own right, appear lifeless and insipid by comparison. I thought he was terribly miscast as the dashing young lover. Off-hand, I can think of a dozen guys who could have played the part more convincingly. The story, itself, is hackneyed with constant repetition. Deanna Durbin proves her true worth and stature as an actress by taking these two great handicaps (leading man, story) in her stride. She makes the picture a good one by the sheer power of her personality. To my mind, she is one of Hollywood's finest actresses, in the histrionic sense of the word. Add to this the fact that she owns the best singing voice of all the stars, and the added fact that she is undoubtedly among the prettiest, and you begin to understand why I'd rather watch her perform than anyone even Hedy Lamarr).

After the show, we went to see the Woolfs. Evelyn is still at the Nursing Home and doing nicely, as is her son, whom they have decided to name Nigel Keith; (over the objections of Klein and myself—imagine!). Bert and Rita were expecting us, and the table had already been laid. We dined sumptuously (as the books say) on fish most excellently prepared by Rita. To “go with” there was pickle relish, french fries, tomatoes, b + b, coffee. By the time we finished eating, and I had helped Rita with the dishes (guess I shouldn't have mentioned that—it may give you an idea) and examined some of the pictures of you and Adele, which I remembered to bring along this time, it was time for us to leave. Rita exclaimed appropriately over the “beautiful baby;” she thought my wife was very nice, too. (Little does she know!) Bert, always the comedian, glanced briefly at the snaps and placed them back on the table, looking exaggeratedly bored. When he volunteered no comment, I said well?" He made a show of being startled out of his lethargy. "Oh” he deprecated, "what do I care about other people's kids." I could have killed him, even though I knew he was teasing me.

After he had invited us to the "bris", which is either tomorrow on the next day (he hasn’t decided yet), we said our "cheerios" and took off.

Klein entertained with his usual goofy brand of singing all the way back to camp— and so to bed.

—Which just about completes this particular letter.

So-long for now, Baby mine. I'm expecting the package containing the pictures any day now. Hope it’s today.

A fond kiss for you, darling. The same for the punkin. My love to all.

Your Phil
adores you.

21 June 144 

Sweetheart,

I've just finished reading your two letters of 8-9, 10-11 June and your V-mail of the 15th. To boot, I received the package containing the pictures, the box of Peanut Chews, and the Bond's Cookies. For the past four days now, I've been glum ’cause I hadn’t received anything in the mail. Yesterday there were four mail-bags full of packages and mail for the company. Imagine how I fell, when, for me, there wasn't even a V-mail! Today, though, made up in full measure for my disappointments of the last few days. I'm sitting on top of the world again, and feel so good, that were you and the punkin here, I’d put away the candy and the cookies and eat you instead. Truly, sweet, you both look good enough to eat. Right now, the picture sits on the shelf over my bunk, and I'm having to exert real will-power in order to keep my eyes off you long enough to get this letter written. The package arrived in perfect condition, even though you had piled everything on top of the cookies, and they were slightly mashed up as a result, I've already sampled the Peanut Chews and Cookies, and they were just as good as I thought they would be.

To keep you up-to-date on my doings, Chippie, I'll say a few words about what I've been up to since I wrote yesterday (and I do mean a very few words.)

Last night, having nothing better to do, I grabbed a nap between 6 and 8:30. Then I rode down to the theatre to see Kay Kyser and his gang in "Around the World. It is a very short musical, but what there is of it is pretty good entertainment. After a bite at the Snack Bar, back to barracks and to bed.

I was fairly busy all day, today - and late in the afternoon the mail arrived. I was in the middle of typing a company notice, when your three letters were handed to me. I stuck them in my pocket until I should finish the notice, but so eager was I to get at the reading of them, that I couldn't concentrate on what I was doing-—and screwed it up. Whereupon I said to hell with it, opened your letters, and read them. Then, having curbed my impatience, I proceeded to put fresh paper in the typewriter and started over again. When I finished, it was just 5 clock, so I gathered up pictures, candy, cookies, and letters, and made for the hut. Very slowly, then; relishing each word, I re-read the letters. Then, I looked long and earnestly at the pictures. Suddenly, I was terrible homesick. When that happens, I know only one remedy—I went to sleep. When I awoke an hour and a half later, the ache was gone, and I could once more bear the thought of not seeing you for some months yet. Immediately afterward, I commenced this. Now, let's see what comment your letters call forth. First, though, I guess you would want to know how I liked the pictures. In a sentence, they are up to my fondest expectations, and I can't thank you enough for them.

I'm so glad, Chippie, that my mail started coming through to you so soon after D-Day. Hope it's never held up again for the duration, but I expect it will be. Next time, though, you'll know the whys and wherefores of it, and will be more reconciled to the delay.

No, sweet, we haven't moved yet, but it is not without the realm of possibility that we'll be crossing the channel one of these days. No one knows, of course, whether we will or not, but, it is a possibility. I'm not worrying about it, though, Baby, and you shouldn't either. I told you long before I came overseas how the company would operate, and you should remember enough about tl to keep you re-assured, wherever we are sent. Believe me, darling, you need never suffer a moment's anxiety for my welfare.

Sorry you couldn't see your way clear to using that ten bucks, as I suggested, but, under the circumstances prevailing at the time, I agree that you couldn't very well do otherwise than postpone that “night out." However, I don't see why the opportunity shouldn't present itself soon—long before I could possibly join you. Please keep it in mind, Baby, and avail yourself of the first favorable opportunity. When I come home, and can join you, I'll find another ten dollars someplace. So just leave me out of your calculations in this matter. Fershtay?

Happy to learn that you finally managed to snare a good pair of shoes for the punkin. That leaves you exactly $16.50 for a dress. I figure you ought to be able to get something pretty nice for that. I remember a time when you could get two very nice dresses for that kind of money.

Nice of you, Honey, to remember to tell me what you are wearing now that you are “dressing up" again Didn't you give the “soldier suit" to Ruth a long time ago? And I thought you had discarded the “black net," too. Both were favorites of mine - but what wasn’t, for that matter? Do you wear a hat? I don't suppose you do.

Glad you find your work easy, Chippie, and that Mr. Bellet is so easy-going. True enough, Sweet, your mention of riding down to work with Mr. Bellet's son made me squirm inwardly (that's how bad I am), but I'm not holding any brief with you for mentioning it. The fault lies entirely with me, and I'll never stop being ashamed of my unreasoning jealousy.

22 June 144 

Just couldn't finish this by lights out last night, Chippie, so I'll continue this morning where I left off:

I don't think you're a “jerk", Sweet, because you gave Mrs. Hahn a break by helping her out when she needed you so badly. Especially if, as you claim, you don't feel "half as tired” after a day at the office, as you did formerly after a day at home. As to that, I suspect you're smearing it on a bit for my benefit. One thing I am happy about, in connection with your working. The days will go much faster for you, now that you have an added interest to keep you occupied thru the day. You'll have a lot less time to think of me—and that is good. Don't forget that 5 o'clock is mine, though!

How did your Mom take it when Seymour finally left for Camp Perry ?

Your letter of 10-11 June advises me that your grandmother is in a bad way again. Somehow, I can't feel properly empathetic; nor am I hypocrite enough to express a sorrow I do not feel. Of course, it would be nothing less than inhuman to refuse her her wish to see Adele again. It proves, too, that she is not entirely heartless.

Your remark to the effect that you are keeping up with the news makes me wonder if Mom still tunes in as fait fully as she used to to Mr. Fleischer.

The V-mail of the 13th conveys the news that Goldie was finally getting the labor pains. The suspense must have been terrific. I expect to hear that Dennis Jay Strongin, (what a monicker!) was born 14th June, between 2 and 3 in the afternoon. I'll also lay a little bet that Harry will drive you all crazy at about that time.

Well, Chippie, that just about covers your three letters, except for your sweet closing paragraphs. To them, I can only say that your honeyed words are a soothing balm for the aching loneliness that is always with me. My heart leaps to instant and eager response to each endearment, and echoes my equally fervent love for you, my dearly beloved. Never will I aspire to a greater joy than the one I await now with the greatest patience I can muster—that of holding you once more close to the heart that beats mainly for your sweet sake. My love to our daughter, who, as time goes by, lays increasing claim to that same heart. My love to all—and don't forget to include the newcomer, my first and only nephew, the inimitable Dennis Jay (can't get over that name!) 

Always
Your Phil

June 21, 1944

Dear Phil:

How are you? I am writing to you from Atlantic City and I’m going to stay here all summer. I came here the 17th and I’m staying with Mrs. Cohen again. We came down by car and the ride was wonderful. The weather here is beautiful and I love it here. I’m going home in July for a few days since Seymour is expected home some time that month. That’s all the news so I’ll end my letter here.

Love & Kisses (45)

Ruth

Post #395 - June 19, 1944 Most People Didn’t Get Too Excited, Wondering How High the Price Would Be and Who Would Pay with His Life and A Letter from Brother Seymour

 

June 19, 1944

Dearest Hubby,

I meant to write this letter yesterday, as you will note by the date line. However, today is the 20th and it is just getting written. I have a lot to say (for a change) and want to get started right at the beginning.

I didn't get an opportunity to describe the Fathers Day dinner—did I? Well, first I want to say a word about my mother and daddy. They were here for the dinner and both of them looked fine. My mother wore the dress we bought her shortly before Adele was born (I wonder if you remember how pretty it is?) and white shoes. My dad wore a white sports shirt, the blue slacks I bought him for Father's Day and brown and white sports shoes. I don't think I remember my folks looking as well as they did that day in a long time.

Al's brother Ben who was also supposed to attend didn't show up. As it was the following people were seated about the table: Mr. & Mrs, Silver, Murray Silver, My mother and dad, Al and Ethel and Paul, Harry, Mom and myself. We had a lovely dinner consisting of the following: grapefruit with strawberry jelly centers, chopped liver on lettuce leaves, veg. soup, roasted meat and chicken, peas and carrots pickles, tomatoes, cole slaw, mashed potatoes, fruit salad, all sorts of soda, brandy and whiskey. Sounds good, doesn't it - and it was! After dinner, we sat a short while and then the Silvers departed. Ethel, Al and Paul left a short while later. Al was telling Harry and me that Stuart and Paul each have $1000 bonds. It seems like everyone you talk to has thousands these days. Al mentioned that they spelled Stuart's name "Stewart" on his birth certificate and it's too late to do anything about it.

Monday morning I arose feeling spry, though Adele had gotten me up more than eight times the previous night. I cleaned the entire house (light dusting, etc. and was finished at 10. I took Adele for a walk and met up with the mailman, who had a stack of mail for widdle me - goody, goody! Your letter to Phil, along with the one for me dated May 16 were piperoos and you needn't feel badly about not writing a special Mother's Day letter, honey, cause, as you say, it was not necessary and that letter to Phil certainly made interesting reading. At the same time, I received your letters of May 24, June 4th and June 6th. It was then time for me to leave for work and I hadn't sufficient time to read your mail. I read most of it on the subway going to work and coming home with my dad. I called Emma immediately and she came over last night to pick up the letter. I didn't feel tired til I had gotten Adele bathed and into her crib. After that I was exhausted and not even bothering to clean up the bathroom I stretched across the bed and caught myself a short nap. Mom woke me to tell me that Em was downstairs and it was a little after nine. I hurriedly cleaned the bathroom and then came down. We chatted til 10, then Em left. It started to pour shortly before 10, but let up enough to allow her to į return home.

And now for some comment on your letters, sweet. They did me a world of good and I feel deliciously happy about receiving so much of you at one time, Gosh, did I tell you I love you. I didn't!? Well, suppose I take time out and tell you, my dearest, that you are the sweetest thing this side of heaven and I love you ever so much!

So you turned out a perfect payroll. I don't think you made a bit todo about nothing - that is sumpin to be proud of! More power to you, baby! That just about answers your letter of May 24th.

The first letter you wrote in June, on the 4th, advised me that you had received 7 V-mails and two packages. The C. P. pictures should be coming thru any day now. As for getting sick while riding in trolleys, etc. I've noticed that it was due to the fact that I hadn't actually ridden in them for a long time and was, therefore, unaccustomed to the sway which always made me ill. Now, however, I don't find myself getting any ill-effects whatever, and I'm glad of it. Mom liked "Song of Russia" immensely and I'm darn sorry I didn't get to see it. Thanks about wanting me to get the earrings. Suppose we save that too, so that you can pick them out for me. If I do run across anything I would particularly like to have I’ll advise you, honey.

Your letter of the sixth eased my mind somewhat. Although I knew you were safe and everything would be alright, the lack of mail for three whole weeks did have its effect on me and you have to admit that it would be the same for you. I know you are okay, but I feel better when I hear it directly from you - fershtay!

The Invasion, for the most part, relieved the tension for one and all. But, then, as you said, most people didn't get too excited, wondering how high the price would be and who would pay with his life. It was good—yet bad, if'n you know what I mean. However, all seems to be in hand and the latest news - a statement by Churchill that the war would be over this summer sounds almost unbelieveable. I don't believe I'll realize the war is over til I am able to take

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way to keep him pleased and I only questioned him about it. So that I might know that I had been in the right. I didn’t like her remark, but nevertheless I know better than to let it mean anything to me. I'm getting used to having a big fuss made about everything I do and think.

Besides your mail I received the enclosed letter from Seymour, a short letter from Jack N. and a v-mail from Milt. There were also two postcards - one from Dot and Snuff, who are spending a few days, at the shore, the other from Ruth.

Mom, Harry and the Frommers went to visit Goldie this evening. Mom said she got a good look at the baby and it is sweet. Diana's small crib arrived today and Adele made quite a fuss about it. I put Adele in the crib to try it out (it's the same size as that little one I had for her) and she had a grand time. She's beginning to understand about the baby.

Adele knows how to say "yes" now instead of nodding her head. She also says such things as more, omb for comb, wah-wah, (for water. She calls people by their names. Whenever Petey sees her he shakes his forefinger and says no-no to whatever she wants to do. He has her so trained that when he tells her to sit down, she sits - and doesn't dare move. Whenever I chance to mention his name and this has become a habit, she shakes her forefinger and says, "no, no no." Her hair gets longer and curlier and I have more and more trouble combing it. Phil, you really are missing something now. She's a regular cuddly darling and this is the most interesting age of all - from a year and a half to two. That's when they, learn to do and say most everything. Oh well, there will come a day -

I'm terribly sorry, honey, that I haven't had the opportunity to mail off the package I have for you,' but I will do so within the next day or so. Forgive me, but it just can’t be helped.

The weather is remarkably cool again, after a hot weekend. I love the cool weather and hope it continues. I enjoy my new job immensely and the afternoon passes so quickly that I can scarcely believe it is gone when six o'clock rolls around. Ann asked me to cash her check this afternoon (her June check, which she hadn't even started to use yet) before going to work. (I should have said morning). Tony met me at 10th and Ruscomb and walked me up to the bank. I cashed the check, depositing the rest of excess cash (now making our account total exactly $200,) and then he rode on the subway with me, as he was going out to West Philly. He looks wonderful, has been home on a 14 day furlough and says he really became acquainted with the kid this time. We chatted about many things. He says his old job will be waiting when he gets back, but he doesn't know if he wants to go back to it. As I said - let's get the war over first - then -

It's getting kind of late, sweet, and I must get some rest. Adele slept through last night and I don't have to tell you how grateful I am when she does. I’m not good for anything' when she doesn't.

I've managed to get off a few letters now and then and wrote to Jack N., Eddie, Milt, Fay and Gloria recently. I still owe Mike Nerenberg a letter and hope to get one off in the near future.

I'm keeping our date regularly, honey, and I'm hoping we'll have a real date real soon. Guess you won't mind if I say it twice in one letter - I love you, Phil! A hug and kiss from

Your Eve,



Dear Eve,


How are you and Adele and the Strongin family? The Navy is not so hot. The chow was good, now it's getting lousy. You work and work and work—25 hours a day. Yesterday was the first time I had a full night's rest. We wash, scrub, serve, tailor, make up our bed, etc. There are two ways of doing things, the right way and the Navy way. We did not begin boot yet. Monday we start. We'll be here 6 to 12 weeks before we get a leave. We are not allowed to leave our area and when walking in two, always keep in step. The drilling is miserable out in that hot sun for 4 hours. They herd us around like cattle. Then we have to wait 5 hours before they bother with you. The Navy slogan “Hurry and Wait.” Boy, I'd give anything to be back in Philly. Don't say nothing to mother. I tell her it's O.K. All our hair was shaven off. I'm going to the movies tonight, I hope. Take care of yourself and write soon. Tell me hows things back in civilization. Oh yes, in the morning it's cold, afternoon it's 130° and storms at night.


Your loving brother,
Admiral SY
Commander of Camp Peary, Va.

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