Post #415 - July 15, 16, 1944 Yesterday Was Mom’s Birthday and I Had Practically Forgotten It Too and I Fully Intend to Take Piano Lessons When I Get Home

 

July 15, 1944

Dear Phil:

This letter would never have been written had I not met your brother Harry near 40th and Girard one day not so long ago. Thru your wife, I then received notice of your whereabouts etc. etc. It couldn't surprise me to learn of your being a pappy since I too am among that category. Yep, it's a little female. Nuff about kids. How have you been and just what are you doing of interest? Been so damn long since I've seen you, I don't know what you've learned about me in the past or what you've heard. My old outfit is now somewhere in Italy keeping busy and doing much more than I can talk about, or what might prove of interest to you. While at Fort Dix, awaiting orders to ship, I met with an accident which not only prevented my going, but, hospitalized me for almost nine months. Result of injuries were, both legs and toe broken. Serious at first but I managed to live. Had an opportunity to get out but this outfit I am with now was forming and they asked me to come here and do what I could. That was about the time I was being discharged. We are stationed in a school around the corner from the arsenal. It is mainly interested in fire control and artillery which it specializes with. Some of the top men in the country are stationed here and are sent on field trips all over the world. Course, this little cripple can't get to go anyplace anymore. Not really crippled of course, just can't make the boat. I intend having your wife come to our place for dinner very soon. We've written to each other and I expect to ask her over this week. You remember my wife of course??? Frances Segal by maiden name. I live at home and it makes things rather nice. Then again, one can't help becoming jittery and wanting to get away
for awhile. Sounds almost insane, yes? Am in my fourth year and lord knows I don't
care for another day of it. Perhaps by the end of the warm weather, we may be celebrating in grand style, once again. Let me know all about yourself when you get the time. Don't tell me you haven't any. I know too many boys there and many who have come back. You probably haven't a thing to do. (kidding of course, oh yeah)

Sincerely,

Mike Nerenberg

July 16, 1944

Dearest Phil,

I started to write you a v-mail yesterday and then tore it up cause I wasn't in a writing mood. I forgot to tell you that yesterday was Mom's birthday and I had practically forgotten it too. I haven't gotten her anything yet, but I will.

We had a new colored girl in to clean yesterday and she did the whole place in eight hours. It's a pleasure! She charged $4 and carfare.

I was busy with little things all day long. Adele was very cranky due to her teeth and was off schedule. In the evening I got dressed and took a short walk with Adele. I wore a blue and white pinafore, she wore her red and white.

Today Petey made three snaps of Adele all dressed up in her lovely yellow pinafore. Adele held the skirt of her dress out when asked to and even smiled for us! One of the snaps may be a little blurred cause she moved too suddenly, but the other two should be beautiful. If those pictures aren't the best yet, then I give up.

When Betty moved she told me I could have the shades from her house. They didn't fit the porch, but today my dad is cutting them down and although we may not have enough for every window, we should be able to cover the side facing the street and the one smaller window beside the front door. At least they will be sun protectors. On counting them, I think we'll have enough for all windows, except the door and extra large window.

Goldie is a regular "nut" when it comes to caring for the baby. She doesn't have time to eat or sleep nor does she care if she does. She can't make enough fuss about the kid. Diana is progressing nicely and is losing all her hair. She is almost bald at the moment. She weighs 8-1/2 lbs.

No one in the drive can get over the way Adele follows directions to perfection. They think she is very unusual indeed. They particularly like the way she says, "Da-dee - home" just as clear as a bell. She says "home" just as you and I would, only she enunciates more. She imitates anything and everything, For instance: Today my dad was banging with the hammer to fix the shades. Adele banged the same noise on the top of the table and said, "Pop". That's her way of saying the sentence before my last one.

Mom taught Adele how to tickle. Adele makes Mom and I lie down and then delights in tickling herself and us and we all laugh very hard and sort of put it on for her benefit.

I expect to go out to Esther's when Adele wakes from her nap, if she isn't cranky. It's very warm today. I just finished hanging a whole yard of clothes (Adele's and mine only) that my mother washed for me.

As you can see by my letter, there isn't much to write about in the way of news. I've been missing you more keenly than ever of late, baby, and I kind of think it's cause I love you so very much, huh. Oh - baby - how I wish you were here at this very moment! It's exactly 1:45 and for all I know you may be writing to me this very moment, too. If you'll move just a trifle closer, you'll get a big hug and kiss from

Your Eve

16 July 1944

Dearest Darling,

Last night being a very pretty one, I decided to take a ride into town with Klein. That is why I didn't write. First we took in a movie, "Andy Hardy's Blonde Trouble", which we found highly entertaining. Mickey Rooney gives his usual masterful performance. The Wilde twins are very attractive and talented, and Bonita Granville is very sweet as the sweet young co-ed. Herbert Marshall adds a note of quality to the cast with a very reserved and very fine performance. The rest of the cast is good as always. I must say some thing about the costumes of the Wilde twins. They wear the most attractive clothes I have seen on the screen in a long while. Take note, Chippie. The plot is the usual confused sort of thing that is typical of all Hardy Family pictures, but it still makes for a good evening's fun. I enjoyed it.

After the show, we walked over to the "Dees”. This time the older folks were not at home (they were out someplace playing poker), but the kids were, The Dees have two children, Fay, a very big girl of 16, whose quiet voice and general meek demeanor are a strange contrast to her amazon-like appearance, and Harold, 15, also very big and strong and matured for his age. They are both good-looking, talented musically, and very sociable. Fay, over whom Klein is always making a large fuss, treating her as if she were a baby, pinching her cheek and calling her "Faigele", and making the most ridiculous show of affection over her, plays the piano and accordion (both expertly). Harold plays the drums with an orchestra. Klein's behavior toward "Faigele" is really laughable, it is so inconsistent with her age and size. Whenever she comes near him, he's all over her like a tent (if you can picture it), flattering her unmercifully and constantly, hugging her, and saying the most ridiculous and exaggeratedly affectionate things. I describe it badly - one must see it to believe it. Everyone is used to Klein and his antics, and hardly notice it. Fay, for her part, tolerates him much as an elephant would tolerate a bothersome flea. When she gets really annoyed with him, which is much rarer than you might think, she merely grabs him and removes him, without showing so much as a flicker of impatience or annoyment. She is tremendously powerful for a girl, and handles Klein, who is no weakling himself, as if he were a pup. Perhaps the most interesting character of the assemblage, which included three other kids of the neighborhood (also musicians), was Murray, whom Klein fondly refers to as "The Professor". He is an undersized runt of a kid, about eight or nine years old, wears large horn-rimmed glasses, is remarkably intelligent for his years, and plays boogie-woogie on the piano to delight the heart of the most finicky lover of this type of music - no kiddin'. For that matter, the whole lot of them are boogie-woogie addicts. One kid, about 13 years old, plays the sax and the piano. Another, blonde and good-looking, and about the same age, plays the trumpet. Yet, in spite of their tender years, they are all unusually accomplished musicians, I was relieved to find that there was no violin around. I'm almost afraid to play for them for fear of being thought a rank amateur! I fooled around with Fay's accordion most of the evening, and acquired a great liking for it. I've decided to learn to play it after I learn to play the piano well enough to give me a good foundation for the accordion. Did I ever tell you, Sweet, that I fully intend to take piano lessons when I get home? I hope to know enough about it to teach the punkin by the time she is ready for music lessons. That'll be when she's about five years old. Anyhow, to get back to the subject, I fooled around with the accordion while Klein fooled around with "Faigele", while she fooled around preparing a snack of poached eggs on toast, cake and tea for us. I did manage to get her to play for me, both on the piano and the accordion. She also took the trouble to explain the bass to me. The reason for all the little white buttons on the left hand had always puzzled me. This was the first opportunity I had ever had of inquiring about them. However, it's a pretty complicated business, and will take a lot of learning. I don't have to tell you that I was most reluctant to leave such interesting and entertaining company when it came time to go. I don't have to tell you, Sweet, that I enjoyed myself immensely, you must have gathered as much.

Your letters of 4th and 5th July arrived this afternoon, and while they were very sweet, and filled with the latest doings of Miss Adele Bara, they require no particular comment. Your description of your duties at the office and the office itself were entirely adequate, I assure you, Honey. If you'll check on the address of the C & B 5 & 10, I think you will find it is located in Kennet Square, and not in Kenneth Square, as you had it spelled in that letter you enclosed.

It appears that Mr. Bellet does a much larger business than you led me to believe. If he handles such things as sink strainers, he must have a pretty miscellaneous line. I think I might like a job selling for such a concern, and I'd like to know a little more about the possibilities and opportunities there. Think you could enlighten me, Chippie?

Your bit about Adele's inquisitiveness and her need for her own room was very intriguing, to say the least. I think I drew a pretty definite picture of her actions from your half-veiled hints. Hell, I'm not surprised. After all, take me, - after long and intimate acquaintance with the “phenomena" you referred to, I never lost my curiosity, did I? It is understandable, then, that the punkin, having much more reason for being inquisitive (everything is still so new to her), reacted as she did. Yes, dear, I agree that Adele will need her own room shortly after I get back. It's going to be fun shopping for her furniture and planning the decorations, and, to tell the truth, I've been thinking about just that for some time now. I've given a lot of thought, too, to redecorating 4906 as a whole.

Glad to hear that Diana Jean (a lovely name) is picking up nicely. But you forgot to say how Goldie is coming along.

Well, Chippie, it appears there were a few things, after all, that excited comment.

Today has been just about the prettiest we have had to date, and I think I will go along with Klein again tonight. Tell you all about it tomorrow, Baby. I'll have to rush off now, if I want to catch Klein. Forgive me if I seem to cut this off rather abruptly, Sweet. Just remember that my love goes on and on. A fond kiss for the punkin. My love to all.

Your adoring
Phil

Post #414 - July 14, 1944 I Want Very Much to Get Back to How We Used to Live—And Soon and A Lifetime of All the Loving Devotion of Which I am Capable Will Not be Long Enough to Repay You

 

July 14, 1944

Darling Sweetheart,

Received yours of the 5th and 8th July today, honey, and they were especially welcome, since there had been three mailless days in between. I didn't write last night, as Fay's mother stopped over here and asked me to write to Fay for her. By the time I had Adele in bed and wrote her letter it was almost 11 and I was all tuckered (no comment, now) out.

I'm glad you had such a nice time on your pass and that you're not thinking of going to London. A small portion of your letter (where you get to talking about the flying bombs and London) was cut away. I feel lot(s) better now!

I'll try to get several pyrex bottles and send them along in my next package. I don't have any myself, but I think I can get some. I'll make up a whole package within the next few days.

I bathed Diana this morning since she was being initiated. Yep, it was her first bath. She was very hungry since her feeding came shortly afterward and cried most of the time. Goldie's permanent came out very nice. It's a little short, but it is becoming. Don't worry, honey, I have no intentions of cutting mine, Harry was out to the track again today, for the third time this week. That makes about six times in two weeks. I asked him if he was changing his address from 4906 to Garden State Park, and I don't. think he cared for that remark.

Thursday the terrible heat spell broke with a rainspell. It rained all day and cooled off delightfully in the evening. So much so that our darling offspring slept til five minutes after eight (I can’t get over it!). My pay today amounted to $20.28 and will probably be the same amount each week, now that I've stopped working on Sats. The truck driver at Mr. Bellet's place paid me a lovely compliment today. He came in to get some of the bills I had readied and let loose with this "I don't like to throw bouquets, Evelyn, but you're the best they've had in this place to date!” And he's been there with Mr. B. for many years ! I was flattered. In fact I'm almost tempted to hit Mr. B. for a raise. I don't think I will for a while yet, but I will - some day. Furthermore I certainly hope I won't work there more than a few months. I'd rather have you home any day. I don't know why the hell I'm so optimistic these days! If the war did keep up I don't think I'd care to work past Xmas, at the very most. I like my job immensely and the money it brings has freed my mind of any financial difficulty whatever, to say nothing of how good it has been to me mentally and physically. Yet I wouldn't like to think of staying there for say a year. I want very much to get back to how we used to live - and soon.

This morning Adele had a great time - she threw "pen nees" into the penny bank and didn't want to stop. As soon as she sees a pocketbook she says "mon-ee", Adele learned to say Gloria's name (she would have to learn after Glo left) and says "go ri a" so that it sounds almost correct. I wish you could see her imitate Petey burp. No one can get over the remarkable control Petey has over Adele and several of the mothers in the drive have asked him whether he would try to do something with their kids.

Sydney Taylor is in on an emergency furlough and I chanced to meet him in the drive this evening. He doesn't look as well as he did and he isn't too crazy about the U. S. Army - and he enlisted. He asked about you and Ed and Sy.

Rae is here for dinner this evening and asked me not to forget to send along regards. I read her a portion of one of your recent letters in which you | asked me to have either Mickey or Rae drop you a line.

Esther's George is in on furlough and I called him the other morning. He asked about you, too. I hope to see him this weekend if I can manage it.

Our Jack wrote the cutest letter direct to Diana Jean. One sentence was particularly cute, as only Jack can be - "I hope I get to see you before you get too big for your diapers -"

I got off four letters to other people Wed. night by sitting up til 11. I wrote to Ruth, Sy, Glo and Milt.

I'd better sign off now, baby mine, as it is late and I want to get some sleep. We're having a new girl in to clean tomorrow and I have many things to do besides helping her. I intend to go to either Esther's or Dot's in the afternoon. I'm able to keep Adele up late so I can spend the good part of the evening wherever I go

I have a date with Petey for Sunday morning - he's promised to make Adele's pictures in her yellow pinafore - all for widdle you. He has little time to spare on Sundays as he goes to visit his mother and is being very nice about it. I'm so sleepy right now, baby, that I can just about see to type this.

I love you so much, darling, and I'm so anxious to see you once more --

Your Eve

14 July 1944

My Darling,

Just got back from the Base Theater, where I saw " Thank Your Lucky Stars" for the second time. I still have time to get off a letter, so here I am to give you the latest news, and to answer your letters of the 2nd and 3rd July, which arrived this afternoon. You'll notice, Sweet, that I am single-spacing. That's because I would like to make this a real "longie". Will you settle for this long sheet typed and single-spaced? It's a pretty large order, but I'll do my best.

Last night I attended a "round table” discussion at the Aero Club. The speakers were four very learned gentlemen. Two were officers in the British Army, a Major, and a Lieut.-Colonel. The Major, in private life was a barrister (lawyer ), and the Lieut.-Colonel was a member of Parliament. The other two were professors at Cambridge. The idea was this: The G.I.s asked the questions, about anything they wanted to know about such as English institutions, education, taxes, current events, etc. The "Brains Trust", as the four gentlemen were billed on the notices around the station, undertook to answer each question put to them. It was a very entertaining and educational evening. I enjoyed listening to the precise English of the Britishers, and learned quite a bit about things in general. Did you know, for instance, that each British wage-earner pays a direct tax of 50% of his earnings to the government? This means that if a fellow makes ₤10 a week (40 dollars), he must turn ₤5 back in taxes? - And the Americans groan under their tax burden!

I went to bed at 11 o'clock, but, unfortunately, I didn't go to sleep. Somehow, Sgt. Overman and I got to talking, and just like a coupla old hens, we forgot to stop. It must have been past two o'clock when we decided to quit and get some shut-eye. We talked about everything under the sun, but mostly, the talk was about our wives, how they made us skimp and save before marriage, how we "sweated out” our babies, pacing the hospital corridors, what we planned to do once we got home, etc., etc., - far, far into the night.

It was kinda tough gettin' out of bed this morning, but by a supreme effort of will, I finally managed to roll out - fifteen minutes late. The morning was spent making out the Officers' pay vouchers and passed very quickly. About 2:30 in the afternoon, I became very sleepy, and not having anything to do that couldn't wait until tomorrow, I asked Sgt. Murphy if I couldn't have the rest of the afternoon off. He said O.K., so I headed for my bunk and proceeded to take a nap. I awoke feeling rested and ready for anything. When I learned that "Thank Your Lucky Stars" was playing at the theater, I thought it would be kinda nice to hear Dinah Shore sing "How Sweet You Are" and the “The Dreamer" again. I love to hear her sing, and these are two of her best numbers. I think I've told you that the former is my favorite,

Forgot to tell you, Sweet, that when I awoke after my nap, I found your two letters lying against my cheek on the cushion, where Cpl. Hegen, the mail-orderly had put them. They certainly were a welcome sight after three mail-less days!

After the show, I stopped in the hut, chatted a while with Sgt. Overman, and then picked up your letters, re-read them, and came over to the Orderly Room to type out this letter (which promises to be longer than I thought).

Now to your letters. After a few rather obscure paragraphs in which you attempt to say something in regard to my last "sermon" (I don't rightly know what), you tell me about Adele's pretty new yellow pinafore. It sounds, from your description, like the last word in what our discriminating young lady of nineteen months should wear. I'll bet it's even prettier than you say it is. It's good to know, Sweet, that I am contributing something to my daughter's wardrobe. Thanks for making such good use of the money I sent you. But when are you going to get that dress for yourself? The Limey told me about his being wounded in his letter, but since you made no mention of it in your last, I assumed that he hadn't told you at home. Evidently he reckoned without the War Department, who has no such qualms. That is why I said nothing about it when I referred to his letter in my last. Happily, he wasn't hurt bad, and is all O.K. now. He expects to rejoin his outfit soon, and thinks he may get some sort of a leave directly afterward. I sure would like to see the guy!

You had to cut that letter short cause Anne was visiting (a likely excuse!). Anyhow, give Anne my love and tell her I'm sore at her for depriving me of a few extra paragraphs. Your letter of the 3rd was nice and long (even though you had to cut it short on account of company again), and I enjoyed your account of the latest doings of the punkin. Knowing your aversion to bragging about the kid, I can well believe that she is even more remarkable than you imply. She must be adorable about now, and I'm not surprised that the pride and love you feel for her, repressed as it is when you write about her, is all the more evident for your obvious reticence and reluctance to make a fuss about her. Your modesty is most becoming, Mrs. Strongin, but it doesn't fool me. If you are not literally bursting with pride in our lovely and talented daughter, then I don't know my Chippie. Truth to tell, Sweet, I'm kinda proud of her myself. Not more so, though, than I am of her Mommy, who has done such a wonderful job of raising her. This in spite of very real and severe handicaps, which no one else can possibly appreciate as well as I. I'll never stop admiring you for that, darling, and a lifetime of all the loving devotion of which I am capable will not be long enough to repay you for it. The love and tenderness that wells up in my me whenever I think of you and what you have done for me are so heart-filling, that I think some times I'll burst with the fulness of it. Oh, for the opportunity to release some of that long pent-up emotion where it has always been welcome! Baby mine, I need you more than you can possibly know. Good night for now, my darling. I adore you. My dearest love to our sweet punkin. My love to all.

Forever,
Your Phil

P. S. Forgot to mention that baby-furniture circular you sent along. I thought some of the illustrated sets were very nice. Some day, Chippie ----

Post #413 - July 13, 1944 Things are Rapidly Approaching a Climax

 

13 July 1944

Dearest Evvie,

This is my first letter in three days. On the 11th, just as I was about to settle down to write, my dinner suddenly decided to disagree with me. I fought nausea the rest of the night, and was was only relieved after eating a whole package of the extra-strong peppermints we get in our rations. Last night, since I had had no mail from you on the 11th or 12th, I decided to write to Harry W. and our Jack. Don't get me wrong, Chippie. I didn't pass you up 'cause I was sore about not receiving mail from you (although I wasn't very happy about it), but because I really had nothing of moment to write about. On the other hand, I was most anxious to get off letters to Limey and Jack. Limey thinks he may be able to get a leave, and had asked me to arrange a meeting, or at least to tell him where to meet me. I thought it wise not to let any grass grow under my feet in this matter, and sent off the information he required. I am now waiting to hear from him, and hoping he can manage to get up to see me. Unfortunately, I cannot go to him, much as I'd like to. Brother Jack in his letter seemed a bit concerned for my welfare. I thought it might be a good idea not to waste any time re-assuring him. His letter, written on D-Day, shortly after he heard the news of the landings in France over the radio, arrived on the 11th. I remember complaining to you on the 10th that I couldn't understand why I hadn't heard from him in so long a time. Apparently, he was under the impression that I owed him a letter. Anyhow, Sweet, after finishing the two letters, I was pretty tired, but because it was only 8 o'clock and I still had time to catch the U.S.O. show at the Base Theater, I decided to forego writing to you another day and catch up on a little relaxation and entertainment. The show was swell, but I won't give you the details here because I just finished telling Dot all about it in a letter I just sent off to her. As I told her, I hate to repeat anything in writing, and instructed her to call you and read you certain parts of her letter. (She'll probably read it in its entirety, anyway). That bit about the dance should interest you, Baby. It was really sump'n! Watching that gal made me awful lonesome and homesick - more so than I’ve been in a long time. I think you'll understand why when you know the contents of Dot's letter.

As you know, Sweet, I have been pretty busy these last few days with the payroll. I finished it early yesterday afternoon. Today, which was the lull between the Enlisted Men's and the Officers' pay-rolls, was a dull one, and I took advantage of the break to get off that "longie" to Dot. This afternoon, I counted the minutes until the nail should come in. I thought there would surely be something for me today. However, when the mail did come in, there was only a handful - and not a single letter for yours very lovingly. To say I was disappointed would be putting it mildly! The PO is all balled up. We keep getting other outfits' mail by mistake. No doubt ours is going astray, too. In filing some of your letters yesterday, I noticed that I am missing quite a few of June's letters - some of them in the early part of the month. WONDER IF (S’cuse it, please) I'll ever get them?

The newspapers claim a good bit of my attention these days, and I'm following developments of all fronts very closely. On the whole, things look very promising. I can imagine how the news must be affecting all of you at home these days. No one can deny that things are rapidly approaching a climax, but how soon it will come no one can say for sure. But they can't keep us from dreaming, can they, Baby?

Can't think of another single, solitary thing to say, Chippie, so I'll sign off now with all my love to the sweetest, swellest girl in the world, and her daughter and mine, the inimitable and adorable Adele Bara, long may she wave! Good night, my darlings. Don't forgot to give my love to all the rest of the Strongins, their relatives, and their friends. Tell Mom my conscience is bothering me something awful at the delay in getting at the letter I promised her some weeks back. But she owes me a letter, too. Ask her how she feels. 'Bye now!

Yours ever-lovingly,
Phil

Post #412 - July 10–12, 1944 That’s All Ed Said—“I’m in France Now”

 

July 10, 1944

Dearest Phil, 

Thought I'd get some air this evening instead of sitting in and typing. I received your three short letters of July 2, 3 and 4 along with a letter from Ed, who is now in France. I guess I felt it, as I mentioned it a few days ago. The news depressed me terribly, but I'll get used to it. That's all he said—“I'm in France now.” He also said that he has written to you several times and has had but one reply from you. Guess the mail situation is bad. Your letters were short and sweet, and I'd prefer to say nothing concerning anything about the house, etc. I can assure you that everything is running as smoothly as is possible under the circumstances. I only wish, sweet, that you could have seen your dotter last night! She looked like a gorgeous flower or butterfly, dressed in her yellow pinafore, yellow flower in her hair, yellow socks, and snow white shoes. She drew “ew or ah” from anyone who chanced to see her. I must have a snap of her in that outfit, as I, too, want a lasting remembrance of her looking that way. I didn't get to see the Benis’ after all. I called them nine times in all and could not reach them. I finally left a message at the hotel. It was another hot day and I went to work as usual. I'm keeping our date faithfully, baby mine and I sure do love you up each time. A hug and kiss from 

Your lovin’ Eve

July 11th, 1944

Darling hubby, 

No mail today, for a change. The weather continues hot with no sign of a let up. The only break comes at night when there is a cool breeze outside. By the time the house cools off, it is morning again and the sun makes the house a sweatbox once more. I worked as usual, catching in some pressing before going to work. I washed my new navy and white pinafore and it shrunk just a bit. It was a bit large but fits perfectly now. This pinafore is just the type you'd love, baby. 

Goldie is getting a permanent tomorrow morning, in spite of what Harry says. Her hair is too straight and long and does not look well at all. Harry has been to the track three times in the past week. 

I brought home two more yacht chairs. It's a pleasure to buy things so cheaply. 

Adele knows that “mon-ee” belongs in a pocketbook. She's getting up in the world! 

I understand Petey has several of Adele’s pictures and I'll try to get them tomorrow and send them along. He says they are “cute.” 

Esther's hubby is home on furlough and I hope to get out to see them this week sometime. Now I'll sign off with all my love, my sweet. 

Your Eve 

July 12, 1944. 

Dearest Mine, 

I was thinking about last year in this time; if you will recall, you were home on a three day pass. Gosh, what a difference! No mail today, except a pillow case I received from Seymour. It's a white satin with Navy (navy colored) Insignia. 

Petey gave me the two enclosed snaps of Adele. I think they are fair. That doll she's holding is the one I bought her. That doll she’s holding is the one I bought her. The doll’s hat and pinafore are bright red. The sun suit Adele is wearing is the sailor suit she wore last year. As I suspected the bruise does show in the pictures. You will note, also, that her legs are much straighter. She still walks a little pigeon toed, but I'm hoping it, too, will straighten itself out. 

The heat continues with the mercury around 97 today. I sweat more than I ever remember sweating, but I feel good. I'm not half as tired as I used to be, though I do have a few very tiring days now and then. My new oxfords feel swell—why the h--- didn't I ever buy such good, comfortable shoes before this! 

Dot called last night and I hope to visit her with Adele either this Sat. or next.

I managed to get a v-mail off to Eddie last night. 

Harry was out to the track again today. It's getting to be his hangout. 

Diana Jean is passed 8 lbs. and going strong. She's still on the thin, long side, but she'll get there. She's losing all her dark hair. I have a hunch she's going to be a blonde someday. Adele's hair is very blond when the sunlight hits it, very much like yours is in the summer. 

Phil, I can't get any sense to mailing off packages during this very hot weather. Can you suggest something other than chocolate? I could make up a nice package of lifesavers and chewing gum if I can get them in reasonable quantities. 

Adele sleeps straight through the night without a break. Occasionally she doesn’t. She seems to be cutting teeth again and was a little cranky last night. 

At this point, my dearest, I find myself wanting you very, very much. I'm glad to report that I haven't had any trouble as far as sex is concerned for the past few months. All I know is, I want you—you, and all that goes with you. I love you, Phil—

Your Eve

Post #411 - July 9, 1944 They have Removed 15,000 Children from London and Your Description of Diana Jean Could Just as Well Be That of Harry When He was That Age

 

When this post was first entered, it appeared that there were missing pages from Philip’s letter. These missing pages (9–17) were discovered subsequently, attached to another letter of eight pages posted on August 1, 2021. The missing text and a second recording has been added here.

July 9, 1944

Sweetheart,

As I told you yesterday, I had planned to go downtown with Gloria to meet Thelma and take in a movie. We left the house at about 8:45 and were down town by 9:25. There was a slight mixup and we had to wait a few minutes for Thel. When she arrived we headed for the Mastbaum (finally got to see the place) to see "Going My Way" with Bing Crosby. Both gals told me this picture had gotten large raves, but I knew nothing at all about the picture. I enjoyed it immensely and at the very end of the picture I cried like a baby. The whole story is built about a church, there is a good plot, Rise Stevens sings Carman, there is a love angle and all in all I couldn't have enjoyed it more. The Mastbaum is a lovely place and I hope to go there with you soon. On our way out I met Shirley Strongin’s sister and brother-in-law. They asked about you, and asked me to stop over with Adele. Yale and Shirley are still in the same place and are very happy.

After the movie we headed for Loft's, but the place was closed. We settled for a drug-store right near the H&H at 15th & Market. Thel and I had a deelicious chocolate nut sundae and Glo had a malted. While there I priced the Combevita tablets and found that they are $3.33 per hundred, which isn't bad at all. However, I did not have sufficient funds with me to buy them, but will certainly get them now. I may try to get several bottles at one time from S&D if they will sell it to me.

Phil, I'm sure, by now, that you've heard the report concerning the German robots and you realize just how serious the entire matter is. Just the fact that they have removed 15,000 children from London and thereabouts is proof enough of how serious the matter is and I'm hoping you have made up your mind not to go to London again until this is over. If you care at all for my peace of mind you'll not leave camp for any reason whatever, if it even means giving up an evening of fun. Under the circumstances I can't help feeling uneasy and the lack of mail for three days doesn't help either. I'd do the same for you would you request it and I'm hoping you'll do as I say.

Still no word from the Benis’ concerning their visit to us. I tried to reach them at the Ben Franklin and the Levinsons without success. If they can't get in to see us, perhaps I can arrange to meet them somewhere. I guess that will have to wait til tomorrow's letter.

Today makes twelve days the mercury has soared over 90 and there is no relief in sight. Whew!! By the way, there was a terrible fire at the Barnum & Bailey Circus while it was at Hartford, Conn. that transformed a mass of 10,000 gay people into a terrific-panic-stricken mess. 100 to 200 people were killed and it is believed to be the worse circus castrophe in history.

I'll close now with my every wish for your safety and my usual, I love you, dearly, my own sweet Phil.

See you tomorrow, honey.

Your Eve

9 July 1944 

Sweetheart,

Received three letters today, and I’m just about swamped with correspondence. This happened at a particularly bad time, as I expect to be very busy all this coming week, and may not find the time to catch up, Those that arrived today were yours of 21-22 June, Phil's of the 23rd, and Dot's and Snuff’s of the 23rd and 22nd, respectively. The latter two arrived in the same envelope. Altogether, that’s nine letters from five different correspondents I have to answer. Is it any wonder I’m somewhat dismayed at the prospect?

It's really wonderful to know that so many people are thinking of me at the same time, and I really would enjoy writing each and every one of you a long letter in reply, but I really have very little time to devote to writing, and I'll just have to bide my time and write to each of you as I get the opportunity. It's a sad fact that I have my hands full just to keep up with you, Sweet. Please call Dot & Snuff, thank them for me for their very nice letters, and ask them to forgive me if I'm days late in answering. You might tell Dot that my purpose in writing that particular paragraph in my last to her that has her so curious and puzzled, was written with just that end in view, and I'm tickled I succeeded so well. Just between you and me, Chippie, I love to tease Dot, and although the incident that so intrigues her curiosity has its basis in fact, I wouldn't tell her just what the fact was for the world—not yet, anyway. I'll admit I half-expected her to know what I meant by my innuendo, and I'm disappointed that she doesn’t. At any rate, I'm still a little leary of her reaction, should I tell her what it's all about—in spite of her assurance that she'll understand. That is why I must be very sure before I commit myself. Perhaps you know what it was all about, Sweet—or are you puzzled too? I think if you read the text in question, and use your imagination, and put two and two together, and consider the sentimental and emotional nature of your Phil, that you should arrive at a pretty definite conclusion, But I better shut my big mouth before I give the whole show away. (Or have I already?)

Really, Baby, I hardly know where to start answering your letters, there's so much there! Suppose I just arrange them consecutively and talk about the things that inspire comment or curiosity O.K.? O.K.! Here goes, and I hope I don't get “wound up” again.

The first thing that catches my eye is your defense of your posture in that snap. Hell, Baby I knew you “when,” remember?—and your posture was always bad, remember?—and I used to pull your shoulders back and tell you to keep them there, remember? The snap just happened to remind me to remind you to keep it in mind. "Beg to differ”—indeed! You got a nerve “begging to differ"!

Thanks for finally getting the package in the mail—my mouth is watering already!

Oh! So that's what "one piece shorts and skirt” are, is, are! (oh, the hell with it—take your pick.)

Your welcome—to the money, I mean.

The censor must have mislaid that last page to Dot's letter, 'cause I'd have found it on my desk if I had left it out.

About that gift for Diana Jean—I didn't suggest anything ’cause I didn't know what she had already received, but I would have left it to your judgment anyway, darling. Anything you decide on is bound to be O.K. by me! Your description of Diana Jean could just as well be that of Harry when he was that age. If you don’t believe me, (and looking at Harry now, I wouldn't blame you if you didn’t)—ask Mom. He, too, was long, skinny and dark.

I'm positively through being surprised at Snuff’s deferments. I just hope it's all over before they get around to him again, and at this writing it appears it very well might be!

Glad to hear Mom's taking better care of herself these days. Hope that Fischbach guy (I call him that because you said he was good-looking) is as good a Doc as you all seem to think.

Didn't I tell you that it would be a good idea to take the punkin to hospital for a check on her legs? Seems to me I explained that servicemen's families were entitled to hospital care whenever necessary, Didn’t I? However, I don't have to tell you that money is no object here, and if you think Dr. Lefkoe would be better, then go to him.

No, Sweet, I haven't seen “Cover Girl" yet—but I will. Glad you enjoyed it. That more than makes up for cutting your letter "short" (after 5-1/2 typewritten pages).

I'm beginning to be convinced the punkin will know her “da-dee" when he comes home,—I don't see how she can miss—you make so much fuss about him. Who's mad? Not me!

10 July 1944 

Sorry I couldn't finish this last night, Baby, but when the fellows want the lights out, there isn’t much I can do about it, is there?

Nothing much happened today. I started on the pay-roll, and it kept me occupied all day. The time seems to fly almost as fast as our Thunderbolts. A month around here is hardly any time at all. The guys talk about Thanksgiving and Xmas, as if they were day after tomorrow.

Well, since that is about all I have to offer for my side of the story, I'll continue to answer your letters. I was just starting to look over yours of 26 June.—I continue—

I was happy to hear that Hilda and Dave were married. They're a couple of swell kids, and deserve all the breaks that may come their way from here on in. If you see them, give them my best, and wish them luck for me.

Y'know, Sweet, the first person that came to my mind when Bert mentioned his relatives in Philly and told me their name, was this same Max Reese you say married Shirley Anapolsky. I don't remember if I mentioned it to Bert, but if I did, it meant nothing to him. However, next time I visit them, which will probably be this week-end, I'll ask him about it.

You say, in your letter of the 27th, that the one thing you want to do when I come home, is to simply go somewhere for a rest of a few weeks. I can think of quite a few things I would like to do, but this one takes top spot with me, too. Got any ideas about where you want to go, Baby? Any old place will be good enough for me, just so long as you'll be there with me. Would you want to go to New York, take in all the shows, and have a high old time, or would you prefer some nice, quiet retreat out in the country somewhere? How about two or three weeks of the latter followed by a week of "doing New York", and other week or two to rest up again? To my mind, that would be the ideal arrangement, but I am wide open to suggestions. Let's talk about it, shall we, honey?

Yes, darling, in a few weeks, it'll be a year we've been separated. Quite a stretch for a couple of love bugs that could hardly bear to be separated for a day. Remember that night in New York, when I left you at the Nerenbergs tto go off with Jack on some business or other? Jack and I spent that night in Phil Forman's apartment, remember? Well, Lady, I missed you so much that night I almost went crazy—no foolin’! I almost drove Jack crazy, too, in my insistence that he either go fetch you, or take me back to you. If some one had assured me at that time that I would have to part with you for more than a year I would have told him with utter conviction that I just couldn't do it and live. Yet here we are after something like 340 days apart, still wanting each other pretty badly, but somehow managing to exist without weeping bitter tears all over the place, and even managing to laugh occasionally. Love and hope and faith are beautiful and useful things, Sweetheart, and they often make the impossible possible. Never, never part with any of them.

You say you've changed a bit in that year, Sweet. I don't know just how you mean that, but this much I do know—that intrinsically a person never changes. You may have changed in outward demeanor, characteristics, habits, etc, but that doesn't worry me in the least. I know my Chippie and all her potentialities inside out (although I'll admit she is most unpredictable sometimes—but then she wouldn't be a woman if she weren’t) but superficial features of behavior are puny things really. They are easily eliminated or changed to one's taste. Those changes you mention must necessarily be superficial to one who knows and loves you as I do, and if I find them not to my liking, well, you know how I deal with those things. I’ve molded you to my taste before, and I’m confident you would want me to again. Right, Chippie?

Getting on—I note that Jack met up with "Hesh" Greenberg in New Guinea. Yes, I know him, and his brother, well. Back in '31-’32 we served paper routes together. Later, we went to High School together, Jack and Hesh were teammates on the neighborhood baseball-team. 

Can't understand why I haven't heard from the kid in so long, though. It must be three months since I last wrote to him. I know I don’t owe him a letter, 'cause I had written only a few days before receiving his letter, and then wrote again. I guess his days are pretty full, too, though, and he probably just has time enough to keep up his correspondence with Gloria.

In your V-mail of 30 June, you acknowlege receipt of my little “bit of literacy,” as you so quaintly put it.

You say you thought it unusual (for me), but you didn't say how you liked it. (Or was that just your way of not committing yourself?) To tell the truth, baby, I didn't think it was the type of thing you'd think good. In order to really appreciate it, you should be an "ETOUSIAN."** I let some ten or fifteen of the fellows read it, and they all got a real kick out of it. I know they did, because it is a phenomenon characteristic of the members of most Army units (especially those who have been a long time together) that they don't take the trouble to dissemble. That's because everybody knows everybody else inside out, and it would be the height of folly to attempt to deceive one of your buddies in the slightest particular. So when Cpl. Hubbard laughed heartily after reading it, I knew that he wasn’t “putting on" just to gratify me. And when Klein keeps pestering me for my only copy to send home, I know he likes it; and when Simmons and Overman, who are pretty bright-boys, and go out of their way to "tear me down" at every opportunity (I still don't know whether it's because they like me or despise me), say that it's well-written, true-to-type, etc. etc., well, I know they honestly think so, too. So you see, Sweet, I consider the whole thing worth-while, and, just between you and me and the censor, (who has long ago lost patience with the length of my letters, and seldom reads them anymore), i'm pretty proud of my first real effort at writing. It gives me a confidence that I haven't hitherto felt. As for your “visions of (my) being a great writer some day,” all I can say is—that is the one real ambition I have in the way of a career, and consequently my success or failure will be measured by that yardstick—by me, anyhow. 

Now that June is “caput,” I'm waiting to hear what you are doing with your "free" Saturdays, Wish I could go shopping with you, Ev. Remember how we used to knock ourselves out on so many Saturdays shopping for something we more often than not come home without?

Right now, Baby, I am alone in the hut. The others are all at the movies or the Snack Bar. I am sitting on my bunk, my tablet on a green felt-covered bridge table, my left elbow on the table and my head in my left palm. I could go on and on writing, but, alas, there isn't much else I can think of to write about. Besides, there comes a point in every letter when I start to look back to happier. days: This brings on such a flood of nostalgic longing, that writing sensibly becomes an impossibility. I have just about reached that point where all I can think of is that I want to be with you, and all I can feel is that if I don't possess you soon,—no, not soon but now, I'll just perish for the want of you, my adorable and adored Evvie.

Therefore, I must now take my leave once again—but not before I taunt myself with the thought of how sweet you would feel in my arms, and how thrilling your warm and loving lips on mine. I love you so much, my sweet. My thoughts of the punkin are most loving ones, too. Kiss her for me, darling. My love to all from

Your Phil

July 9th, 1944

Dear Phil, 

How are you? I am fine and hope you are the same. I went to Steel Pier July 4th and I saw Harry James in person. He played about 25 songs and he really was good. His leading vocalist was Kitty Kallen. And if you remember, she is the daughter of that barber on the corner of 8th and Louden. She's very pretty and her voice is pretty good. Besides Harry James, they showed 2 movies, “Knickerbocker Holiday,” which wasn't so hot and “Ladies in Washington,” which was fair. They also had a water circus, a vaudeville show, and a couple of fun houses. It has been very hot here for the past few days and even the water was warm for a change. Mr. Cohen is definitely bringing down his camera next week, so I'm going to take pictures. If they come out any good, I'll send them to you. I would also like to send you some saltwater taffies, so will you send me a request? I got a letter from my brother Sy, and he is still at Camp Peary, Virginia. He is almost through with his boot training and then he will be able to come home. After that he doesn't know what will happen. “Shorty” was down here from July 1st to the 4th. He was staying with the man for whom he served papers. He was with me for the first day and we went uptown to the Breaker’s Hotel to see the Malamut’s. We found out that their brother was managing the Breaker’s this summer and that they were managing the Astor. We went up to the Astor Hotel the next day and sure enough, we found them. Mrs Malamut was talking to us for a while and then a man came up and talked to her. When he went away, Mrs. Malamut told us that he was Mr. Nathan Fleischer, the Jewish war news commentator. That's about all the news there is for now, so I'll say so long until my next letter. 

All my love, 

Ruth

P.S. One of my girlfriends got my report card for me. I passed everything and I am now in 10 B.

**I found this reference to ETOusian, which appears to be a made-up word from those assigned to the ETO (European Theatre of Operations) during WWII. 306th Bomb Group http://www.306bg.us › yank
To the rank-and-file Etousian, messing around with shillings and pence, the President's figures sounded a little out of this world. . .

Post #410 - July 8, 1944 The Russians are on the Approaches to Baranovici. That’s Where My Father’s Sister and Her Family Live

 

8 July 1944 

My Darling Eve,

Tonight is the first night I am spending in camp since the 5th. I went on pass on the evening of the 6th, and returned midnight yesterday. Your letter of the 25th June came on the 5th, just before I took off, and three more letters arrived this afternoon. They are those of the 26th and 27th and your V-mail of 30 June. There was also a most welcome letter from the Limey. Your information about his being in on the invasion and coming back to England tallies with what he tells me in his short letter. He wants me to arrange a meeting. I don’t have to tell you how eager I am to do so, Sweet, but you'd be surprised at the difficulties you run into in trying to do so. However, I shall do my best to arrange it.

Before I proceed to answer your letters, darling, (and I may not get around to that tonight), I want to tell you how to spent my pass.

I went into town with Sgt. Hazleton and another Sgt., the three of us chipping in for the cab. It was a beautiful, cool, sunny evening, and the ride thru the country side was a treat in itself. We arrived at 6 o'clock, and had an hour to kill before we could get supper, so we adjourned to a convenient pub. That is, Sgt. Hazleton and I—the other fellow had to catch a train, and we had dropped him at the station. The Sgt., and I are old friends, having had quite a bit of business with each other for the past eleven months. He works in the Finance Dept. So, between a nice congenial conversation, and a whiskey and four ales apiece, we managed to do away with that hour very pleasantly. It was just 7:05 when we strolled across High Street to the Cups Hotel. There, in a large, second-floor dining room, we were seated at table with two other G.I.'s, and served a most delicious meal: Crème Julienne (a creamy, spicy soup), lobster salad, coffee, and compote for dessert. This was the first time I had ever tasted lobster, and I found it delicious. The compote was stewed strawberries and currants in a thick vanilla sauce, and it was every bit as good as it sounds. Hazleton had a date to take his girl to a dance, and asked if I’d care to go. I told him I wanted to visit some friends, but that I might stop up later in the evening. Accordingly he went off to his girlfriend's place, and I called Bert’s place to find out if he were at home. He was; and when he told me to come over, I snared a cab and went. Evelyn is still abed. She is feeling and looking fine, now, but her legs have failed her. She can't move a step away from the bed. The doctor says she probably strained the muscles in her legs, but that she'll be O.K. in a coupla weeks.

I gleaned a few statistics during the course of my visit. They were married in June, ’41. Bert is 28 years old, and Evelyn is 23. My impression had been that they were somewhat older. Evelyn is much prettier than I at first thought. Her face was red and somewhat bloated when I first saw her, but she is really nice looking, as I'm just beginning to realize, Rita showed me a bathing-suit picture of her taken before she became pregnant, and I was surprised to see that she wasn't the “fatty” I supposed her. Looking at the picture, I was reminded of Anne Furr. She is built just like her. Bert is the typical proud papa. In spite of his artificial indifference to the “bugger", one can see with half an eye that he's crazy about the kid. Nigel Keith is a good-looking boy (they tell me—I don't know), and is thriving on a half-and-half diet of mother's milk and a cow-milk, sugar and water mixture. Some of the things they do don't look right to me. The diet is only one. They still use the old-fashioned three-corner, one pin method of diapering, and ridiculed the four-comer, two-pin style that a friend showed them, and that we used on the punkin. They are trying to get some pyrex-glass bottles, but they are unobtainable. I was wondering if you have any that you could possibly spare, Chippie. I know they would be grateful for them. Please send them along as soon possible if you can get them, Sweet. If you have none, but can buy them—do so. They have treated me as one of the family, and I'd like to repay their kindness anyway I can.

Evelyn was full of questions about you and Adele, I showed her some of the snap-shots, and she complimented them highly. Bert took a good look this time, and this time made the appropriate remarks. Altogether, it was a very pleasant evening. I took my leave about 10:30, not wishing to keep them up past their accustomed bed time. Almost forgot to mention that Bert's mother came up from London to stay with them. Her purpose was two-fold. She helps with the baby and the house work, and she is out of range of the flying bombs, which she says gave them a very bad time of it.

censored

Don't you worry on my account though, Sweet, ’cause I have no intention of going to London. Nor will I while the danger persists.

Where was I? Oh yes, I was just leaving the Woolfs (note spelling). Although it was 10:30, the sun was still high, and I wasn't the least bit sleepy. I decided to go to the dance. It was a big affair. A benefit for "Salute the Soldier Week.” An English orchestra provided dance music of the old two-step variety, and while this was going on the dancers were hardly worth the watching. But a little later they gave out with a few British folk dances, and it was like nothing I ever saw before. These I enjoyed very much. There were as many civilians as service-men at the dance, which was unusual. The men were from 16 to about 50, and the girls 13 to 60. It wasn't uncommon to see a youngster of 16 or 17 waltzing with a woman in her thirties or forties—and vice versa. Watching the dancers, I was host to a variety of thoughts and emotions. I was sorry for, yet disgusted with the slovenliness of the girls. I know full well how difficult it is for them to get proper clothes and cosmetics, but it seemed to me they could have made a better appearance in spite of their handicaps. The great majority of them, though, couldn't be attractive under the best of circumstances. The plain ones didn't give a damn about their clothes and make up, and those that fancied themselves pretty painted themselves and conducted themselves like so many harlots. Altogether, a pretty weird-looking gathering. Still, I found it all rather interesting, and I did enjoy watching the dances native to this part of the country. In fact, so absorbed was I in anything and everything that the night sped by unnoticed. I left only when the dance was over. Forgot to say that I met Hazleton and his girl there. She was, far and away, the best-looking of the lot, in a quiet, home girl sort of way—you know what I mean. I taxied back then (1 A.M.) to the Red Cross Club and went to bed.

The morning was gray and drizzling, but I was feeling well and rested, and rose early (8 o’clock). After a breakfast of eggs-on-toast and coffee in a small cafe, I bought three newspapers, and headed back to the club to loaf and catch up on the news. I had hardly settled myself, when the Red Cross hostess come over to ask if I cared to join the party that was about to set out for the castle on a sight-seeing trip. I was just in the mood for that sort of thing, and promptly rose and joined them. There were five others in the party. The castle is about five minutes’ walk from the club. I could write reams about the things I learned about it, but you'll have to be content with the essentials for the time being. Originally, the place was the site of the first temple erected by the Romans in England. Later, a certain English Queen (I don't know her name) drove the Romans out and, destroyed the temple. The foundations, 15 ft. thick, though, were beyond their capacity to destroy. The English then (1042 A.D.) erected the castle on the foundations. It is a massive thing made entirely of stones and one marvels at the patience, and back-breaking labor, and engineering knowledge that is innate in the structure. Up to a few centuries ago, the castle has had a bloody and interesting history, and I wish I could remember it all. A very congenial old fellow showed us around and told us the history of the castle and the town of Colchester, which is built entirely on the original site of the first Roman colony in England. It is an interesting fact that during the blitz, every bomb that fell in or near the town unearthed some relic of antiquity So you can imagine what lies underneath the rather drab modern (?) town of Colchester.

We spent a very intriguing two hours in the castle, and I wasn’t a bit sorry I had come. Here again, Chippie, I wished you were along. It happens every time I see something interesting or good to look upon, or listen to. I think maybe I love you, huh?

On the way back to the club, whom should I run into but Red! He was in town on a pass, but was heading back to camp to keep a date he had that evening. We gabbed a while until he caught his bus, and I went back to the Cups Hotel for lunch. It was too early, and I had about three-quarters of an hour to wait, so I parked myself in a nice, comfortable chair in the lobby and proceeded to read the newspapers I had bought earlier. The Russians still seem to be making good headway, and as this writing, are on the approaches to Baranovici. That is where my father's sister and her family live.

When 1 o'clock rolled around, I went upstairs to the dining room and lunched on a plate of tongue, ham, lettuce, scallions, etc. For dessert—rhubarb pie and coffee.

Then I went to the movies. At the “Headgate,” I saw "True to Life” with Dick Powell, Mary Martin, Franchot Tone, and Victor Moore.

It was a comedy with a few songs thrown in. I liked it. The other half of the double feature was "Saludos Amigos,” Walt Disney's pan-American good-will film. This was also highly entertaining. I especially liked the latin-American rhythms of the incidental music. After that I went across the street to the “Playhouse” to see “Desert Song,” and enjoyed it very much. I don't think Irene Manning will go very far. She has little allure, and a too-thin soprano voice. Her costumes were lovely, however, and showed her off to the best advantage. Dennis King is very good-looking and is possessed of a commendable, if not remarkable, singing voice. The charm of the picture, though, lay almost entirely in its sheer beauty of locale, costumes and photography,

After the cinemas, I went to the Woolfs’ again. Evelyn was feeling much better, and was all prettied up. I hung around for a few hours, ate supper with Bert and Rita-(mushrooms with egg and spring onion omelet, tea, cake, etc.), and headed back to camp about 11 o'clock. That was “my pass", and I can truthfully say that I had a good time.

Well, baby mine, I consider I have said enough for today. It is late, and I'm tired and sleepy. I have a big day coming up tomorrow, but I'll try to answer your last three letters in the evening. Hasta manana then, sweet Chippie. You know I adore you. If the punkin doesn't know yet that I feel pretty much the same way about her, she will someday. Until then, I remain

Your devoted
Phil 

P.S. My love to all.

CPL. MAX BROWN (333412251

8 July 1944

HOWDY PHIL:

RECEIVED YOUR ADDRESS FROM SYD AND I DON'T KNOW IF I'M USING YOUR RIGHT RANK OR NOT BUT I HOPE YOU GET THIS LETTER. I HOPE THIS LETTER FINDS YOU IN THE BEST OF HEALTH AND SPIRITS. I'M FEELING FINE AND IN THE BEST OF HEALTH AND SPIRITS. WELL I WROTE YOUR C.O. A LETTER TO TRY AND GET IN TOUCH WITH YOU. IF I SUCCEDD I'LL BE SEEING YOU IN AROUND A WEEK OR SO.

WELL IF YOU DON'T KNOW THE GOOD NEWS BY NOW I'LL TELL YOU. MY WIFE IS GOING TO HAVE A BABY. THAT IS WHAT WE BOTH WANTED WHEN I WAS READY TO LEAVE THE STATES. IT TOOK US QUITE A LONG WHILE TO MAKE OUR MIND UP BUT WE DID. WELL HOW DO YOU LIKE ENGLAND? I HAD QUITE SOME EXPERIENCES HERE. THIS BEER HERE IS WARM AND TERRIBLE AND BY NOW I SHOULD OF AQUIRED A TASTE FOR IT AND I DID. I CAN DRINK IT LIKE WATER. THERE ISN'T MUCH SCOTCH HERE AND WHEN WE GET A CHANCE WE BUY IT FOR WHATEVER IT COST. WHEN THEY HAVE IT IN THE PUBS IT COSTS US 1₤ AND 6 A SHOT AND THAT IS LIKE 30CENTS IN AMERICAN MONEY AND IS PLENTY CHEAP. I WAS SURPRISED TO SEE HOW THE KIDS AND THE GIRLS LIVE HERE. IT IS AN EXPERIENCE AND IF THE GIRLS IN THE STATES WERE HERE THEN THEY WOULD NOT KICK LIKE THEY ARE DOING HOME. SOMEOF THESE GIRLS HERE ARE NO GOOD AND THEY FLOCK AROUND OUR BILLIARDS LIKE THEY ARE WAITING FOR SOMETHING. THEY ARE IN A WAY AND THESE FELLOWS IN OUR CO. TAKE GOOD CARE OF THEM. WELL THERE ISN'T MUCH MORE TO SAY SO I'LL CLOSE WITH LOTS OF LUCK AND HOPING FOR A QUICK VICTORY SO WE CAN ALL GET HOME WHERE WE BELONG. WRITE ME AS SOON AS POSSIBLE.

LOVE,

MICKEY