Post #519 - November 27, 1944 A Year That I Choose to Forget Forever and I Love and Admire Your Mother

 

Nov. 27, 1944

Dearest One,

It rained all day long. My mother and dad had to go to court today and I had decided to go to work, as Ruth was expected home from school early. Sarah had promised to put Adele to bed for me, and kept her promise. I got Into work at 12:45.

Stevens gave Rae four lots in Browns Mills and when the war is over they are going to build a bungalow out there.

Here's news: Richy Lieberman is back in the States, after three yours of overseas service. His APO, before he got back, was 637, your original number. Funny, isn't it.

Snuffy couldn't get home this past weekend, so Dot went down to camp to see him. Dot will be unable to come up for Adele's birthday, but will try to get up first chance she gets.

You asked about the garage in one of your letters. The fellows that rented it are boy scouts, doing their bit for Uncle Sam, and I'm sure they will be careful when it comes to starting fires. The $5 from the garage, Incidentally, isn't mine - it's more house money.

Last night I got to bed early, for the first time in weeks and had such a good night's rest, I actually feel like purring. I wrote to both Milt and Syd today, before going to work, and I hope to get a letter off to Jack N. within the next few days and I shall enclose your letter regarding your post-war plans.

Gee, honey, in just about five weeks, 1944 will be a thing of the past - a year' that I choose to forget forever. I sincerely hope it will be the only entire year we shall ever be separated again. Guess that proves that I'm expecting to see you in 1945, but I have a feeling that a good part of 1945 will pass before we can even contemplate a reunion. I learned a lot in 1944 that I shall never forget, elther, but each year always brings something in the way of knowledge.

Adele is playing in the living room with her doll and doll carriage. She looks cute in her royal blue corduroy overalls and powder blue long sleeve jersey. When night time comes, Adele informs me that "it's too dark outside." It's a bit past 7:30 (no doubt you are fast asleep) and it's time to bathe Adele and get her to dreamland. You ought to hear her sing "zing, zing, zing went the trolley" and "Happy Birthday to you"! She's so cute about everything sometimes I almost take a bite out of her. I sure do wish I could bite into you, sweet, for there is nothing I'd like better. I adore you, honey, and am

Your Eve

27 November 1944

Ev, Dearest 

At Last! Four lovely letters from you just arrived! They are your letters of 1 and 5 Nov., and your V-mails of the 12th & 13th. I’ll start right off by answering your letter of the 1st Nov. This one told me all about that new “lumberjack” dress that so puzzled me when you mentioned it in a later letter. Sounds nice, honey - wear it well! How’s about a picture, huh? (Notice how close I’m writing? That’s because I know this is going to be a real “longie” and I don’t want the envelope to bulge.) You say that you are having trouble sleeping these nights. That’s bad, Sweet, but since I don’t know what it is that is keeping you awake, I don’t know what to tell you to correct the condition. Sorry the mail is being held up again, Chippie, and I can certainly feel for you, but don't let it get you down. I am trying my best to write daily, although it isn’t always easy to do so, and I must say I haven't missed very often in these past few weeks. What surprised me no end was that you said nothing to indicate that Eddie is home. Surely, he must have arrived by the 12th or 13th when you wrote your V-mails! I can’t understand it! - unless you mentioned it in a letter I have yet to receive. So much for your letter of the 1st. Now I pick up your letter of the 5th - and what do I see? I see five closely-typed pages! Now that's what I call a letter! Too bad, though, Baby, that the subject matter couldn't have been happier. I guess you know, Sweet, that you have posed me a pretty stiff problem. I've thought over carefully everything you said, and I’m now ready to tell you what I think about the whole distressing business, and what course of action I would propose. But first, a few words about your unfavorable reaction to my post-war plans: Your reply to my suggestions was "a very definite NO." Then you go on to say that you "detected a million flaws, in the idea.” Then you expound on one of the “flaws", namely that "Do you for one minute, think I would sleep in boarding houses with Adele?" No, Baby, I didn’t for one minute consider that it would be necessary for you to do so, and I'm not thanking you for putting words in my mouth either. I'm sure you will agree that there are at least a few readily apparent ways to correct your so-called “flaw.” But I must say, Chippie, that I’m disappointed that you chose to make an issue of this particular point. I can't help feeling that you will be highly intolerant of any discomfort you may be called on to put up with temporarily while I am trying to “get ahead in the world." And I must confess, Ev, that if I cannot count on you to abide some discomfort with at least a show of cheerfulness (and we must take for granted that there will be such moments), then I am most reluctant to try “to get ahead in the world". You must realize, Sweet, that one does not get ahead without sacrificing something. Not that I take the view that sacrifice must of necessity be involved - but I must be sure that if there is a price to pay, that you will be willing to pay it without murmuring. As you know, darling, I am a most unambitious fellow myself. It is only because I know your predilection for worldly goods that I feel I must make the effort to attain them for all of us. Furthermore, you must remember that the idea was largely yours. But if you have thought better of it, then I’m perfectly willing to forget about it, although nothing you said in your letter tended to sway my judgment that it's a damned good idea. As a matter of fact, I am more convinced than ever that I could make a go of it, provided, of course, that I could count on you to give me moral support if nothing else. However, after some of the things you said in your letter, I’m inclined to be extremely doubtful if I could count on you for even that much. Lest you misunderstand, by “moral support” I mean, among other things, the willingness, if need be, to sleep in boarding houses with Adele!’ One other sentence in your letter tells me all I need to know about how you feel in this connection, I quote - "I hate to hurt you in any way, and you know that full well, Phil.” But one of the sentences in your letter hurt very deeply. You said that I would never have to “suffer privation in any shape or form being your wife. I hope not any more - for I feel that I've had more than my share of it already.” Well, Chippie, I must say I've read and re-read those few sentences a dozen times, mainly to try to understand why in the world my assurance that you would never suffer want as long as I had the strength to prevent it should "hurt very deeply." That beats me! As for the latter part of your statement, I can only say that I'm not particularly fond of the “martyred" tone you assume. You didn't have to make it so evident that you feel the world had treated you badly - even if you do feel that way. I'm more distressed than you might think that you feel this way, Chippie, because I can't help feeling that you'll feel even more "hurt if things don’t go exactly to your liking once I return. Not I, nor anyone else, can guarantee that you won't have to endure various disappointments even after I come home, but when, in all good faith, I try to assure you that I will do whatever I can to shield you from the "hard knocks" that you feel you have had your share of, and am told that my assurance "hurt very deeply; then I hardly know what to think! I get the distinct impression that your attitude is, in effect, "all right for you if I ever suffer again!" I've tried to read some other meaning into your words, Baby, but I can’t. Can you blame me, then, that I resent and am frightened by your expectation that I guarantee your future happiness? I shall do my best toward that end - you know that, sweet, but if I fail, in some measure of attaining Utopia, I reserve the right to hope that you will be as sporting about it as a good wife should. You must learn, my darling, to take the hard knocks of life with equanimity and tolerance, and never cease being thankful for the smallest blessing. That way, and that way only, lies true happiness. So, all in all, Ev, I don't think you're quite ready to pull up our roots in Philly to seek a better living elsewhere. I never dreamed that you were so fearful of your comfort, that out of the million “flaws" you mentioned you choose to give that one. You must tell me about the other 999,999 sometime. As for Mom's objections to my taking Jack N. as a partner, I'm just not interested in what she thinks. I'm old enough to think for myself, and I think she’d be both shocked and surprised to know some of the things I think. Your mother, I think, has the only valid reason for not wanting to see us go and I can readily understand and sympathize with her viewpoint. She, I am sure, is primarily interested in her daughter’s and grand-daughter's welfare and happiness. It is only natural for her, then, to want to see you firmly established, and being fiercely possessive, she has gone, and will go, to great lengths to keep you near her. I don't blame her one bit, then, for failing to see any merit in my scheme. To her, your security lies in being near her, so that, come what may, she can do her best by you. I love and admire your mother, Ev, and will always remember and be grateful for the fact that it was she who gave me the most precious things in my life. I need hardly enumerate them, but lest you think I’m not properly appreciative, I will enumerate them by way of acknowledgement: (1) You. (2) The means that made it possible for me to marry you. 3) A home for myself, my wife, and my family (even if the last were incidental). (4) All the joys that have been mine as a result of my marriage and my home. So you see, darling, I owe your mother a great deal. More, perhaps, than I shall ever be able to repay her. Moreover, did I but think for a minute that she would lose anything by our departure from 4906, I wouldn't even consider leaving, I think I once promised that I would live in 4906 as long as she wanted me to. Nor do I intend to go back on that promise if she chooses to hold me to it - hell, I don't consider that I am doing her any great favor by living there. Rather, I know that it is most generous of her to want me to continue to do so. Fortunately, I am not so blind to realities as my own family seem to be. And the truth is, darling that I would be perfectly content to remain at 4906 for a long, long time to come were it not for two reasons: (1) I don't think it would be quite fair to impose on your mother, who, after all, is entitled to a fair return on her investment, and is hardly getting it under the present arrangement. (2) My unwillingness to be tied to a definite locality because my home is there. Not yet, anyway, while I still don't know where my opportunity or living is. If, on returning home, I can find a decent job in Philly or if you would be content with what I might make at S & D, then I would be content - no, I would be happy to make 4906 my home. I would even want to buy it if your mother could see her way clear to sell it. However, I want it understood right here and now that I will only consider living there if (1) I can afford to pay the rental the place is worth, or (2) if I can buy it. Under no conditions will I consider staying on at the old rate. I feel that your mother has done enough for us already. It's time she looked to her own interests. I always felt rather guilty that she was depriving herself for our benefit, and I loved her for her generosity, but my conscience will no longer let me keep on taking without thought of return. I hope, Sweet, that my attitude is coming all clear now to your perceptions. I'm sure you have no grounds for finding fault with it. (Good-night for now, Sweet, I'll continue with this tomorrow - I love you, Chippie. A kiss for the punkin.)

28 November 1944 

Hello again, darling! 

Nothing of interest happened to me today, so I'll continue where of I left off last night. Now where was I? Yes, I was coming to your own current problem -. Your differences with my family is not, of course, new to me. Your exposition of the difficulties and aggravations involved in living with them only confirms what you have long given me reason e suspect - namely, that all is not quiet on the home front. I'm flattered no end, Ev, that you trusted me to understand the issues involved. I want you to know that I appreciate your frank confidences, and will try to prove myself worthy of your faith in my judgment by advising you to the best of my ability, and by the dictates of my conscience. You must realize from the foregoing, darling, that I am fully aware of what your mother has lost by her unstinting generosity towards us, and I mean all who call 4906 home. I’ll admit, further, that you would be certainly better off financially, and probably mentally and physically, if you availed yourself of your mother's offer to take you in. I have long known (and resented) the fact that Mom hasn't acted toward you as I would have wanted her to. Harry, I know from long experience, is very hard to live with. Goldie, I know very little about, but I have no reason to doubt that what you say about her is true. I'm most heartily ashamed of their attitudes and I must confess, I am ashamed of myself for feeling that way about my own flesh and blood. But I am not one to easily forgive selfishness, intolerance or vanity in anyone, and the fact that it is my own brother and mother who have been guilty of all three cuts no ice with me whatever. If they individually or collectively, were so indifferent to the needs and wants of their son's and brother's family that they practically ignored the interests of his family where it did not concern their own precious selves, then they can hold no brief with me that I am not interested in their welfare. Remember, honey, that all-important “if”! If you consider that such has been the case, that they thought only of themselves, then I'll stand by my statement. Their failure to appreciate that your mother is giving them, as well as you, the best "break" she can, is unfathomable to me. The answer which I must, in all conscience, give you, then, as much as I deplore the necessity for it, is - Yes, move in with your mother. I'm sure that Mom can pay her own way if she moves in with Harry and Goldie, so my conscience is clear on that point. The way you must do it is this: You must announce your decision to move to your mother's place. You can tell them, in all truth, that you feel Adele will have more freedom of action there; that you, yourself, will not be so tied down, nor will you be burdened with house-cleaning, and that you'll be able to save more money against the day I come home. Tell them they are perfectly welcome to remain at 4906, but that they will have to pay a rental of $50.00 per month. (If your mother thinks it ought to be more, tell her that I myself, would rather pay the difference, either monthly, or in a lump sum when I come home,) Tell them that you don't think it would be fair to your mother to accept anything less than a decent rental, and that they shouldn't expect otherwise. That you may leave to their consciences, and I think they cannot fail to see the justice of that. Tell them that you would not hold it against them if they preferred to find other quarters - that the house would be rented in any case. You may also tell them that your mother told me what she proposed to do, and that I agreed that it would be best for all concerned if you went to live with your family. There must not be bitter words, however strong the impulse be to utter them, neither from you nor your mother - that much I ask you to do for me. If any of my family feel called upon to indulge in argument (I don't believe they'll stoop to abuse, but God, help them if they do - ), just tell them that there's nothing to argue about, that you refuse to argue about it, and that I, as well as you and your mother feel perfectly justified in taking this step. I think that’s plain enough, no? For the rest, you can move any time you see fit, but give them a week or two to decide what they want to do, and to find another place if they prefer to move. Take what furniture you'll need, and put the rest in storage. Well, Chippie, you asked me what I thought you ought to do, and I've told you as best I know how. The rest is up to you and your mother. Good luck, honey! God grant that my advice is the right advice, and that He may send me home to you soon, so that I may actively work to the best interests of all of us. One more thing, - I have not said how deeply I am hurt by Mom’s unthinking behavior, and by her apparent coldness to you, my wife. God knows, if anyone should be grateful to you and love you, she should - if only because you are my wife and the mother of her grand-daughter, but even more so because you have ever made her lot easier by doing the work that she, herself, would have been forced to do in keeping house for Jack and Harry and me. Do not feel badly that she says and does things which give you the impression that she's sorry you married me. That, I think, is mostly my fault. She probably resented the fact that all the love and attention I showed her before I met you, was lost to her when you came into the picture. Being a woman, she probably missed those attentions, and instead of placing the blame where it belonged, on me, woman-like, she blamed you. Try to understand her view-point, Chippie. Please be kind to her, even if you don't feel that she is deserving. She has always had the benefit and guidance of a strong hand, and I suspect that she is rather lost without it. It hurts me far more than you might think that I must, in a manner of speaking, tell her to go to live with Harry and Goldie, and it is my determination that I will not allow her thoughtlessness to impede your and Adele's happiness that gives me the strength to advocate the course I have. At that - it's like tearing off a piece of my heart -. Whatever her faults and weaknesses, I shall always love my mother, and it will always hurt me to see her hurt. Therefore, I must ask you as a favor to me, Ev, Baby, to break the news to her as gently as you can. Once I am home, where I can act as a sort of buffer between you, I know that we will all be able to live together in harmony, and will welcome the chance to prove it. When I hear from you that you have told her of your plans, I will write to assure her that she will always be welcome to live with us if she is so minded. I don’t expect her to understand why I have agreed to this, but I shall be desolated if she feels any bitterrness toward me on account of it. I’ll have to take that chance.


There is much, much more I could say, darling, were it not for the fact that it is so late, and I am so tired, and that my heart is so sore within me. God bless you, my angel. I love you so much! My dearest love to my adored punkin. My love to all—

Devotedly,
Your Phil

Post #518 - November 26, 1944 Adele is Really Making Great Strides with Her Speech and Here at Fighter Station, I Think to Myself that It’s a Swell Night for Our Bombers to Do Their Stuff

 

Nov. 26, 1944

Dearest Phil,

I'm strangely at a loss for words today, so I hope you'll bear with me should this letter be “dry.” Last night, after I had posted your letter, Gloria, Goldie and I went over to Ben's for ice-cream. Shortly after arriving home, we decided it was time to hit the hay and that's exactly what we did.

Gloria and I got to gabbing, once in bed (she slept with me, in case you hadn't gathered as much) about most everything under the sun. Gloria has definitely decided that she wants Jack to take a furlough, if he can get it. She says her old memories are wearing thin, and she wants to make new ones. From what I gather, she is most anxious to become pregnant. She says everyone including Lee, has put her to shame, since she is the oldest of us all.

This afternoon we all walked over to see a friend of Glo's that had moved to 4944 N. 7th St. I think I mentioned this girl to you once before. Her name is Thelma Levine, and she used to live in your old neighborhood.

You know, sweet, I'm finding it unusually hard to concentrate on this. I'm "remembering" too much, like on the 27th of November, 1942, you came home to me, just before we actually became parents and we had such an enjoyable weekend together. This day, two years hence I was busy phoning the Red Cross, etc. in the hope that you would be able to come home. Adele's birthday is only three days away, but I'm very much afraid we're going to have to wait for her "third” as you said in a recent letter.

I've asked Fay to bring Marc and Anne to bring Richy next Sunday, and shall just have a small party, so that Adele will have something to talk about for a while and something to remember. Paul, Natalie and a few others will be here to complete the group.

Adele is really making great strides with her speech. This morning she told me that “Santa Claus is coming". I asked her what she wanted Santa to bring her and she requested the following, "pretzel, tandy and iceream" (that's how she pronounces them). I gave her some soda to drink and cause she was drinking it too fast, I asked her give it to me. She said, "No, Mommy, it's not yours". What a kid! She understands everything and says everything you can think of for a kid her age. I measured her again today (for Glo's benefit) and find that she and the yardstick come out even. That's sumpin’ - three feet of height is quite a bit for a kid her age. But she's well built and carries it very nicely. She's not very graceful and that annoys me, but I'm sure she'll acquire grace in good time.

Phil, darling, you'd really enjoy her at this stage. She's most interesting and very willing to learn most anything. But I've succeeded in filling this page and that, too, is sumpin'. Guess you know full well that I just adore you, baby mine and that I am, was and always will be

Your Eve

26 November 1944 

Dearest Darling,

Still no mail! It's been so long since I heard from you, that I’m wondering if everything is still O.K. there at home.

Nothing much doing at this end today. I put in a full day at work, went to the early show to see Bob Hope in "Thanks for the Memory,” and then played about 18 games of ping-pong with Stahle down at the Aero club, The son of a gun is improving - or else I'm slipping, cause he won ten of the games, Anyway, it was a good workout, I was perspiring freely towards the end. I need the exercise, and so all in all it was a pretty good evening.

Now it is night; a crisp, clear, moonlit night, very much like a Philly night about this time of year. Back home, one would be moved to take a ride up to Reardon's for some hot-dogs, ice-cream, etc. Tonight, here at Fighter station, I think to myself that it's a swell night for our bombers to do their stuff. To carry the comparison a step further - were I home, t'd probably be sitting in my chair by the radio holding you on my lap, and wondering if we hadn’t oughta go to bed. Tonight, I can only look at your picture on the shelf and wish fervently that I could have you for company tonight,

Well, Chippie, I must confess that I have a strong impression that the end of the war is only a matter of a few months now. Of course, I realize that I have felt that way for the past year or so, but never has the feeling been so strong. What does your woman's intuition tell you, Sweet?

Until I begin to get some mail, honey, I'm afraid you'll have to be content with short letters like this one.

Take good care of yourself and our beloved punkin, Sweet, until the day I can come home to take care of both of you. God bless you my darlings - I love you so very much! My love to all.

Devotedly, 

Your Phil

Post #517 - November 24, 25, 1944 Today is My Mother’s Birthday and Right Now, I am Toasting Myself Before a “Smashing” Fire

 

Nov. 25, 1944

My Darling,

Sorry I had to end off so abruptly last night, but that's how it is. I got to bed rather late and had a picnic getting up this morning. I had to dash like mad to get out of here, for I was anxious to get a ride in. I missed getting a ride in with Mr. Bellet, so I rode down to Broad & Girard with one of the neighbors in a truck. As I got on the subway at Broad and Girard, I met Shirley Anapolsky. She looks wonderful and looked very nice in a lovely black persian lamb coat, muff and hat. Her husband has been overseas for almost two years and has no hopes of a furlough. Her husband has met with Harry on several occasions (Harry Anapolsky).

I was done at 1 and headed straight home. Today is my mother's birthday and I gave her $5 in cash, as a gift. I felt extraordinarily good, once arrived home, for the simple reason that I hit the jackpot today. I had five letters in all - two from you (those of Nov. 5 & 6), two from Milt Brown and one from Syd.

Both of your letters were very sweet, honey, and I'm sorry I can find nothing in them to comment on. They put me in a mellow mood - and that's all important you know.' Milt wrote of two skirmishes with Jap planes and said "that a hole was a handy thing to have around here - I wouldn't trade mine for a million dollars". Most surprising of all was Syd’s letter. He took a poke at some guy in camp and connected - and wound up at a rest camp on the Isle of Capri. He had a sort of nervous breakdown and let loose when this fellow annoyed him. He said that he felt a lot better mentally than he had felt in a long time, now that he had had a rest. He didn't mention the fight to his family, not wishing them to know how bad off he had been. I'm glad you wrote to him, for he is in bad need of some cheering correspondents and I, for one, shall try to write to him more often. All but 50 of his original outfit have been sent back to the States, but he can't seem to get back. It's really a pity, for he has been there a long time.

Most surprising of all was the fact that Gloria walked in and we had no idea she was coming. We got to chattering and before I knew it it was time to feed Adele and get her to bed. I washed, fixed myself up a bit and am now writing to you, while Mom and Glo gab in the kitchen. Here's a bit of news: Lee is pregnant and is in her fourth month. She's going to go back to New York to give birth and will stay with her grandmother. Can you imagine! She'll be 17 next month! Anne is due to give birth shortly and Sammy is making out very nicely, Glo, by the way, was the first to gift Adele this year. She handed me a card in which $5 in defense stamps had been enclosed.

And something else - Jean Levin is in England and I shall get her address for you first opportunity I get. She just landed there and I understand she'll be stationed at a general hospital. It would be nice if you could see her, providing she isn't too far away. I'm hoping you didn't make that planned visit to see Eddie, for you must know by now that he is right here, only 28 miles from home, Eddie called us at my Aunt’s place and we all took turns talking to him. Even Adele said "Hello, Eddie" and he couldn't get over how clearIy she spoke.

Now that I've had my little say (?) I shall turn my attention to our guest for a change. I'm always busy when she comes. Guess you know full well that I’m "that” way about you, Phil dearest, and that I just love being

Your Eve

25 November 1944

My Sweet,

In the past eleven days, I have received only one letter, your V-mail of 11 Nov! Here it is almost the end of November, and I’ve received only two letters of yours written this month! Very discouraging, Chippie! I know it isn't your fault, honey, and the postal authorities probably have damned good reasons for holding up the mail, but it is discouraging, nevertheless.

Yesterday was a typically routine day. When it came evening, and time to write my daily letter, I realized that I had not the slightest idea as to what to write about that would be even remotely interesting to you, so - since I've been writing pretty regularly here of late, I thought you wouldn't mind too much if I took a “day off". Do you mind, darling?

For that matter, there is very little of consequence to write about today! Stahle and I worked all day on a report, and only finished at about 4:30. I'm CQ again tonight (my own turn this time). Most of the night was spent trying to get a fire burning in this damned stove. After three fruitless attempts, I was pretty well disgusted, but on the fourth try I got a good blaze going. Right now, I am toasting myself before a “smashing” fire. 

I guess you know by now that I finally got Red to finish that pendant for Adele. Hope it is not too long getting there!

It is, I realize, rather large for one as diminutive as our dear little punkin, but it couldn’t be made any smaller, else the wings wouldn't have fitted on it. It may not look like much to you, Sweet, but I assure you that it is quite a job to make. I myself, would never have the patience required. Without exaggerating, I will say that Red put in at least eight hours of tedious work, cutting it out, pressing in the wings and the eyelet, and polishing the plexiglass. Being entirely hand-made, it is worth far more than you would suppose. As a matter of fact, had Red chosen to charge me for his labor, I could not have afforded it! So I think it would be no more than good manners if the punkin were to address a sort of thank-you note to him. That's a hint that it might pay you to heed, Chippie - if’n you know what I mean— 

For days, I had been wondering what I was going to say to the lass in her birthday letter, but, happily, once I got down to it, the letter wrote itself. I trust it pleased you. sweetheart.

However devoid of thoughts and words my head may be, of one thing you may be sure, Ev, baby - I shall always know what to say to you. And right now I am saying, as I always have said, and always will say - “I adore you, sweet wife.” Love to Adele and all the family from

Your Phil

Nov. 24th, 1944

Dear Phil:

Received your most welcomed letter of Oct.29, the other day, & it sure was swell hearing from you. You really don’t have to apologize for not writing sooner, as I know myself that one gets so disgusted at times, that he doesn’t feel like doing anything. We just got back from another mission the other day, & it sure was no picnic for us. Our outfit made two beacheads, & were the first wave to go in and hit the beach. The second Island we hit is where the Japs were. The boat I was on was the first one to hit the beach, & l was the third man off. We three were the furthest inland of the rest at the men. The two fellows in front of me, the first one got a bullet right through the side of his helmet, the second fellow, well I can’t say anything about him through the mail, and as for myself, I sure had a close one. A Jap threw a hand grenade at me, & it sure landed pretty close, Some of the shrapnel hit me in my left hand, but lucky enough only a few small pieces got me in the left hand. It’s pretty well healed up now, & l don’t think it will leave any marks. Thats one beachhead I’ll never forget, & l guess it won’t be the last one I’ll be on. Every time I think of what we went through and saw, I get so angry and mad that l could kill a thousand of those dogs, & every chance I get I’m going to give them everything I got to pay up for a few things. As for souvenirs our boys sure did get a raw deal on them. We were the first ones in, & we could not stop as we had to keep on pushing & fighting them back, while the reserves that came in later on behind us, got them without fighting a bit. We call them the USO boys. As for myself, they can have all the souvenirs, as I have the only one I want, & I am sitting on it right now. It sure is some feeling that you can’t describe in a letter when your coming in to hit the beach, & those Japs are firing on you. The lucky ones of us, that did make the beach, you could not even move around, for if you did, those Jap snipers would pick you off like a clay duck. We sure were pinned down for a while, and grenades, rifles and machine guns, were blasting all around us. We did our job though, & those Japs will never bother no one else. I can’t say how many we got, but we did not do too bad. I would tell you a bit more of what happened, & what we saw, but you know the censorship. We are now back on the same island we left from, and the Jap bombers gave us a good reception the last few nights. You can’t even get a night’s sleep any more. We sure had a big mail call when we came back, which we all enjoyed. I sure did get my share of it. I had three letters from Evelyn in the bunch. I wrote her yesterday. l enjoy writing to her, & l keep her well posted on the news. I write her at least two or three times a week when we can write, & she also writes me pretty often. Well, Phil, I’ll close for now as I have a bunch of other letters to write. Take good care of yourself. Drop me a line, when you have a few spare moments, & l’ll do the same.

Your loving cousin,
Milt

Post #516 - November 23, 1944 Be Very Sure That You Put This Letter in a Safe Place and You Remain the Very Image of the Daughter I Always Wanted

 

23 November 1944

Darling Chippie,

Yet another mail-less day, and I am wondering what I can say tonight to fill a coupla these pages.

I might start off by saying that we had a swell Thanksgiving Day dinner this afternoon. There was plenty of turkey, with all the “fixins,” for all, and I, for one, enjoyed it. I hope that all of you at home fared as well.

Tonight, I am pulling Sgt. Lafoon's CQ for him, and I was meaning to take advantage of it by getting off a real “longie" to you, Sweet, but I find it very hard to do when I don't have a letter of yours to answer. However, as soon as I finish this, I am going to write my second letter directly to Miss Adele Bara Strongin bless her l’il heart. Be very sure that you put it in a safe place, honey, 'cause I mean her to have it some day, when she is old enough to understand it. Red finally finished the pendant, and I’m enclosing it with her letter. I know it isn't much, as far as a gift goes, darling, but it is the best I can do under a restricting set of circumstances. The important thing is that she understand that it is daddy's present to her. I think I can trust you to see to that, Baby.

You must be wondering about what I am smoking these days, since cigarettes are unobtainable. Thank goodness, we can still buy tobacco, so I merely dug up a coupla pipes I had laying around, and am making good use of them.

There is nothing I can think of right now that might interest you, Sweet, but I remember promising to try to write a decent amount today, so I’m most reluctant to sign off before I have completed at least this page and i'm going to do it if I have to sit and think all night!

I might mention (just to fill up space) that the weather isn't too bad these days. It is remarkably mild, as a matter of fact, for November. There is still plenty of green to be seen about the countryside, and the trees are just beginning to moult their leaves. It is uncommonly damp, though, ’cause we've had quite a bit of wet weather.

Just called the operator to give him the schedule for ringing me thru the night. He is to call me at 12:45, 5:00, and 6:30. At that, I'm pretty lucky! Usually, I also have to get up at 3:00 to wake the cooks, but they aren't working tomorrow.

I might mention, Baby, that I’m at wits’ end about your Xmas present and also those for the rest of the family. I would very much like to repeat my procedure of last year, but, alas, I am flat broke - and will be for a month or two yet, so it looks very much like the only Xmas offerings it will be able to tender this year will be apologies. 

And now there is just room enough to remind you, my beloved Chippie, that there is one thing you can always count on - the never-waning, everlasting devotion of

Your Phil

23 November 1944 

My adored Punkin,

On this Thanksgiving Day, just six days before your second birthday, I am moved to write to you once again. It is just a year since I instituted the practice of writing an annual "birthday letter" to you, and little did I think then that I would be writing the next one in pretty much the same circumstances, but by the time you are old enough to read and understand this, you will have realized that our meanderings up the road of time are most unpredictable. It goes without saying, darling, that I regret most deeply that I could not be with you on the occasion of your second birthday, but if the spirit counts for anything, then you must consider that I am ever close to you.

This being Thanksgiving day, it is only natural that it occurred to me to count my blessings. Thank God, they far exceed my liabilities, both in number and importance. I have only to look on my shelf above my bunk to be aware of my two great blessings. Surely, no man could consider himself unfortunate who has as charming a daughter as your own sweet self, and as lovely and loving a wife as is your mother! It is your beloved likenesses smiling so confidently down at me that is my greatest source of comfort in my present loneliness. My heart is too full of my love for you to allow of any room for doubt or depression, but, being no more than human, I cannot help but hunger for the reality of you, my darlings.

Then, too, I count as blessings the mother-love of your own dear grandmother, Bella, your grandparents and uncles and aunt of the Paller clan, my own brothers, Harry and Jack, and my dear cousins, the Wymans and Browns and Strongins. In a word, I am very proud of my family - as you will be one day, my sweet. Perhaps most of all, am I grateful for my father, may he rest in peace, the grandfather you never knew, but who, nevertheless, is largely responsible for your being. For it is he who will ever be the greatest influence on my future conduct. It is his creed, his principles and ideals that I live by, and that I will do my best to ingrain in you as you develop, my punkin. There are other things that I will never cease to be grateful for; things too numerous to mention; things that some people take for granted. like a healthy mind and body, a deep appreciation for the beauties in the works both of man and nature, or a strong conviction in the ultimate victory of men of good faith and intentions over the evils that constantly work for the downfall of mankind. These are some of the things I count as blessings, my dear, but there are many, many more that I recognize and appreciate. I would give you a bit of advice in this connection, my daughter, an axiom, if you will, that you will do well to remember: Never take the good things of life for granted. Count your blessings. Know them, and be grateful for them.

But I fear I have digressed from the intent of this letter. (You will have learned that your dad is inclined to be a windy old bird, once he takes his pen in hand.) My real purpose in writing this is to wish you well on the occasion of your second birthday. May there be many happy ones to follow!

Some recent snapshots which your mother was good enough to send to me, tells me better than any words could, what a dear little girl you are. I am very proud of you, Baby, and just looking at your picture conjures up delightful visions for me. You remain the very image of the daughter I always wanted. Your mother will vouch for the truth of that. In my mind's eye, I see you growing up to be a beautiful young lady; I see you bringing your lessons to me; I see you playing tennis in the summer sun; poising for a dive; dancing with your friends; making wonderful music on the piano - all these, and hosts of other images I see, just by looking at that snapshot of you. So you see, darling, your dad has many ambitions where you are concerned. All his hopes and dreams are wrapped up in you. Your mother and I will do all we can to further your opportunities for a full and happy life - on that you may depend.

The enclosed gift is little enough, I know, dear, but ere you judge it too harshly, permit me to explain its significance. To me, the pendant is symbolic, and I'll be grateful if you'll accept it in the spirit in which it is offered. Know then, my dear, that the heart you wear is my heart that loves you dearly. The accident of its crystal transparency you may construe to mean that it is a pure and blameless heart that loves you. That, you have my solemn word for. The impressed insignia represents the service for which I was compelled to sacrifice the privilege of being with you during the greater part of your two years. Wear it in the best of health, my punkin.

In closing, I wish you a very Happy Birthday, Baby. Kiss my beloved Evelyn for

Your loving dad

Post #515 - November 21, 22, 1944 Lil’s Package Contains Delicacies Which I Haven’t Tasted These Past 15 Months in the U.K. and We Had a Letter from the Valley Forge Hospital Today, Informing Us That Eddie was There

 

21 Nov. 1944

My Darling,

Arrived back in camp about midnight. This morning - back to the old grind. My work, thanks to Stahle and Murphy, is pretty well under control. So much so, in fact, that I had very little to do today. Naturally, the first thing I looked for when I came in to work this morning was my mail. Alas, it has been held up again. In all the time I was away, I received only your V-mail of 11 Nov. and Lil's package of foodstuffs. I'm not complaining, Sweet, but I had rather hoped to find at least three or four letters awaiting me. Today, although there was plenty of mail for the company, as a whole, there was not even one letter for me. Oh well - tomorrow is another day. (Not another mail-less one, I hope!)

Lil's package is a very welcome one because it contains delicacies which I haven’t tasted these past 15 months in the U. K. The contents, which are still intact, are as follows: A can of tuna; a tin of anchovies; bottle of mayonnaise; condensed milk; Nestle's instant chocolate; can of pineapple, and a large box of Cheez-It. Some night, when the weather is bad, and the fellows don't feel like pedaling or walking down to the mess-hall, we'll make a feast on the stuff Lil was good enough to send along. Until I am able to write to her, tell her that I thank her, and my hut-mates thank her. Her gift is most apropos and very much appreciated. As a matter of fact, I have almost forgiven her for refusing to write for so long - but not quite.

Your V-mail was written while you and Mom and Goldie were waiting for Nat to pick you up to take you to the party in honor of my newest cousin, Vicki Paula Blank, may her years be long and happy! This is the first word I have had about this particular blessed event. I'm awaiting the details. Please convey my congratulations to Etta and Nat, Sweet. I don't have their address. 

This letter also informed me of Mickey's indisposition. I hope that she is well recovered by the time this reaches you. 

Thanks a million, honey, for the detailed description of how you looked, your costume, etc. on that particular night. I wish you would remember to write about yourself more often. You seem to forget, Baby, that you are, by far, the most interesting subject I know. You mention a gray and white checked “lumberjack dress." Is it a new one, Chippie? And what is a “lumberjack dress" please?

You quote some of Adele's most recent utterances, and they're all cute, but one in particular intrigued me - the one in which she says, in part "Mommy wants you—” Just how, Chippie, does the punkin know that?

Speaking of Adele reminds me, Ev, that I meant to send off her birthday gift today, together with a letter to her, but I'm afraid it will have to wait 'til tomorrow, ’cause Red was too busy to work on it this past week, and is just finishing it. He has promised to have it ready tomorrow.

Until tomorrow, then, sweetheart, I'll bid you my fondest adieu - and my fondest adieu consists of a long, lingering kiss, a close embrace, and a whispered "I love you, my Evvie". My dearest love to Adele, your daughter and mine, and - my love to all.

Constantly,

(Hmm! How come I never thought of that before?)

Your Phil

Nov. 22, 1944

Sweetheart,

I thought sure that there would be some mail for me today but I was disappointed again. We won't discuss the mail situation tonight, or the paper might burn. I neglected to tell you that I had mailed off the can of chocolate chip cookies I had readied for you and hope they taste as well when you receive them as they did when I tasted them.

I called Etta last night to find out how she has been coming along. She has a nurse staying with her, who takes full charge of everything and Etta is still taking it very easy. The baby is gaining nicely and that's most important.

We had a letter from Gloria and she intends to visit us shortly. She wanted to come on Adele's birthday, but that will be impossible. I wrote her last night and told her to come regardless. Last night, too, Mom, Goldie and I wrote to Jack. I told Jack (and Mom) that Jack should be flattered that his family writes to him so often, cause they certainly do not write to you. Just as a matter of record, exactly how many letters have you received from Goldie since you went overseas? I'm sure it is only one, or two, at the most and I can't help getting aggravated when everyone keeps complaining that we don't write to Jack enough. Even Gloria wants to know why I'm the only one who knows how to write. Oh well, it's all in a lifetime - and a hundred years from now who'll know the difference.

I stayed up late last night, since I wrote to you, Jack and Glo, washed, showered, etc.

I started to type the above at work, so you can Imagine how surprised I was upon arriving home, to find three letters for me, two from you and one from Jack Nerenberg. The two from you were dated Nov. 1 and 2 and contained the snaps. No, I don't think you look particularly well in either, but that's not important. Long as I can gaze upon your well-loved features, it's okay with me. I can't remember what kind or number of film you want, so enlighten me, dear one, and I shall send along some film. I'm glad you finally received the bottles & nipples and I am most anxious to learn whether they were okay. If you recall there were a few things for you in the package and I hope you unpacked it before giving it to Evelyn. Jack said nothing at all, but asked for the letter, which I neglected to forward. I shall get a letter off to him tomorrow.

We had a letter from the Valley Forge Hospital today, informing us that Eddie was there. There was a few sheets of questions stapled together, which have to be answered concerning Eddie's life history, in the letter. Evidently Eddie isn't as well off as I hoped he was. He asked us not to visit him, but if we don't hear from him shortly again, we shall visit him anyway. Room enough, I see to send along my love to my beloved.

Your Eve



22 November 1944

Dearest Eve, 

Just returned from the base theater, where I saw Humphrey Bogart, Peter Lorre and others in "Passage to Marseilles". It was a disjointed sort of film, mainly because it made free use of the “flash-back". However, it was a fast-moving, interesting yarn - in spite of the kaleidoscopic impression one caught watching it. 

I was kept pretty busy today, but I am pretty well caught up with my work for a change. I hope to keep it that way.

There was nothing at all in the mail for me today, which makes it a sum total of one V-mail and one package in the last eight days. I'm looking to hit the “jack-pot" any day now.

Red didn't get a chance to work on that trinket for the punkin, but it requires only the finishing touches, so I’m almost positive I'll be able to mail it off tomorrow.

I'm really at a loss for words tonight, darling, so you'll have to forgive me the brevity of this particular letter. I'll try to do better tomorrow.

Hasta manana, then, Baby, I leave you with all my love, Two kisses for Adele - one for each of her two years. My love to all.

Your adoring hubby,
Phil 

P.S. Enclosed is a souvenir of my meeting with Limey. I've been holding it back to show the boys. Note: I franc = 2 cents.

Rough Translation of the Yiddish Letter from Rebecca (Bella) Strongin, Philip’s Mother:

Nov. 22, 1944

My beloved and dear son, Philip,

I am writing to you to let you know that we are all well and living well. We are especially so since we got your letter. It made us feel so good to hear that you are doing well. My darling son, I am writing this letter today and thanking God. I thank God every day for all the blessings he has given everyone in our family. I thank God for your little one and hope that God will watch over you, my dear and darling Philip. We are having trouble receiving your mail. We sometimes have to wait 2 to 3 weeks to get a few letters. I do understand that it is not your fault that the mail is held up. But, thank God, at least we hear the news from you that everything is alright with you. May God continue to watch over you, and we hope that nothing worse should happen to you, my lovely son. Where I keep your letters, my beloved, I will not tell you. I know that you understand my meaning quite well [In her bosom]. Because of this, I know that you will not stop writing. As for the little one [meaning his youngest brother, Jack, stationed in Guinea] I thank God that he writes two letters per week, and his letters are very sweet. He also wrote to Ethel (Chase) that he has further discerned, as he writes, that he is in a good place, but very far from you. I can also write to you that I am not as fat as I was, I have lost 23 lbs. I feel so much better. I can walk much better. I have a very good doctor, take medicine, and every week I take two needles for protection from colds and nerves. Now, in addition, I have learned that my health will become even better with time. Now, my dear son, about your daughter, the beautiful and bright one, I can tell you that there is so much I could write. She has a temper, sometimes, but also a big heart, and your nice teeth, and she is a beauty. She is vey friendly. I am so happy to be able to write that Goldie with her daughter is such a blessing. That the Lord provided me grandchildren is such a nice thing. I like this so much. I believe that I have now written you everything I wanted to say and I may have forgotten some things, but I am sure that Evelyn has not failed to write everything to you since she writes every day. But my darling son, please write me a letter with a couple of words just for me. Well, good-night my dear son from Your Mother.

Post #514 - November 20, 1944 I’m Sure Most of the Waiting is Over and I Did See Quite a Bit of England During the Course of My Travels

 

Nov. 20, 1944

My dearest,

This morning I waited around for the mailman, just so I wouldn't have to wait til evening to read the mail I expected to get. I was deeply disappointed to find that there wasn't even a single letter.

Nov. 21, 1944

No doubt you are wondering what happened between what I wrote above and now. Well, let’s start at the beginning. I wrote to you on the 19th and when I finished I dressed Adele and took her along with me to post your letter. I always lift her up and let her place the letter in the box, for she gets a big kick out of that. As we left the house, up pulled Al's car, with Ethel, Paul, Rae, Stuart and of course, Al. They stayed a short while and then left. I gave Ethel Adele’s old blue snowsuit to use as a spare for Stuart. Stuart stood up in his crib the other day alone. He'll be eight months old on the 26th and is quite a big boy now. It struck me funny as I watched Adele and Paul run after each other, Goldie holding Diana and Al holding Stuart. You sure are going to have to become acquainted with a lot of new people!

When they left Sarah and Petey came over for a few minutes, to say hello to Adele, That kid just adores both of them!

Shortly after Sarah and Petey had come in, Mr & Mrs. Bader arrived, in time for their dinner date with us. Mom and I have promised to definitely visit them this coming weekend and I fully intend to keep my promise. I was sorry I could not spend the evening at home, but I had promised Dot and Snuff that I would be out, and that's where I went,

I got Adele to bed early, but she refused to go to sleep. Therefore, I didn't leave the house til 8:30, which means that I arrived at Dot's at 9:30 - or too late to go anywhere (we had thought of taking in a movie, since Snuff had until 2 in the morning). I wore my grey lumberjack dress, silver earrings (and I was terribly aggravated, cause when I got back home I discovered I had lost one of the earrings and they went so well with my dress - oh well, I'll have to get Mom another pair and get myself a pair), fur coat, brown shoes and bag and white leather gloves. I had a large red flower in my hair and my hair looked almost as well as it did when I went to Lena's last week.

Snuff looks positively grand, having dropped lots of weight. That reminds me, when Eddie called long distance Saturday night, he told Jack to tell me that he had seen you and that you looked swell, having put on weight. I'm glad you look swell, but I dislike the "put on weight" part. I don't have to tell you how much better you look when you have less weight. Wish I could say the same for myself.

Snuff brought home a fellow (that sleeps in the same barracks with him) for the weekend, as the fellow is from Michigan and didn't had anything to do over the weekend. This fellow is protestant and 35 years old. Funny thing about him was that he reminded me of you. I can't say exactly what reminded me of you, except that he was built something like you and his general appearance struck a familiar note. I know I shouldn't tell you this (for fear of your jealous streak) but I'm going to tell you anyway. The four of us went over to the ice-cream parlor (same one we used to go to that used to be Syd's) and had some ice-cream. Dot’s sister in-law and brother-in-law walked in and said to this fellow "My you're looking good"! (thinking that he was you). Can you imagine her embarrassment when she got a good look at him and realized that he was not my husband! He, on the other hand, said, "Maybe I should feel complimented". The whole situation only tended to make me want you that much more and I was kind of relieved when I was on my way home. I also brought my new dress home.

I got home, rather late (Snuff walked me to the el) and I walked home from Broad St. It was about 2:30. when I got to bed and I had a picnic getting up Monday morning to go to work. I waited around for the mail - and you may refer to the first few sentences of this letter when none failed to arrive. I was blue all day and very much in the dumps, I started this before leaving the office. When I got home I took Adele up and lay down with her. Next thing I knew it was 12:30 A.M., and there I was - fully clothed. I had some milk and cookies, undressed, washed some things, washed myself and went back to bed. After a good night's sleep, I was greeted with three be u u u tiful letters, though they were very old, being dated Oct. 27, 29 and 30. It may be the Xmas rush or sumpin' that's holding up the mail so long and I'll be mighty grateful when the rush is over. Now to answer your letters, I'm glad you're interested enough in writing to write that letter to Coronet. I told you before, I don't care if you fail a thousand times - as long as you keep trying. I'm sorry you did’nt send me a copy, but I'm sure it was well-written, as well as intelligent and I shall not be disappointed should you fail to win. I'm glad that you like the latest batch of snaps. Adele uses both her hands for everything, but I'm sure she'll be using the right hand when the time for using that hand only arrives. Yes, Adele is a very large kid for her age. In fact, she's taller than every other kid I know. No, dear, I wasn't hinting about the $18 for the bike for Adele. I wouldn't hint about it - I'd ask you for it - so there now. I was disappointed to hear that you are in debt. You're right - I don't like it. I sometimes wonder how you'd manage if you were on this end - but that's okay - you're forgiven. Then you got to talking about my remark that Adele is "your one and only daughter". Guess you're right - for it's going to be that way for a long, long time. There will have to be some very definite changes, etc., but we won't go into that now. So Evelyn and party kidded the ears off you about my letter! You needn't have any fears about my asking them such questions as "what kind of women you would make dates with, etc." The letter was a simple, nice letter and no doubt, you've seen it by this time. I'm mildly surprised that you agree with me on the matter of the furlough. I didn't want to tell you what to do, because of the fact that you haven't seen Adele for a long time and I wanted the decision to be yours, especially in that connection. I'm sure most of the waiting is over and if I could wait this long, I certainly can wait a little longer for the perfect reunion with you, my sweet. As for me practicing dancing - you needn't worry, honey, I love to dance!

I see I'm just about at the end of my letter, so I'll continue with this tomorrow, My Aunt Gussie has invited me out to her place Thursday evening for dinner, as my cousin Meyer is home on furlough, and I hope I can make it.

Harry is making a fair living at the moment with the station. He loves being his own boss. You ought to hear Adele reply to what's your name? Her reply, clearly, is "Adele Bahra Trongin" and she lives on 8th St. I love you, sweet!

Your Eve

P.S. I'm very anxious to know what you decided in regard to keeping up this house. Many people think I’m a darn fool for keeping it. After examining it very carefully I've decided to give it up, but I shall wait to hear from you.

20 Nov. 1944

Dearest Darling,

I am writing this in the Colchester Red Cross Club, where I am killing the next few hours before catching a truck back to camp. Last night, after I left Bert and Evelyn, about 11:30, I came here to sleep. This morning, after cleaning up, shaving and breakfasting here, I sat around and read the papers. The “big push" seems to be going well, and it made very gratifying reading. About 11 o'clock, I took a walk to the Marks’, and spent a few hours chatting with Mr. Marks. At 1:15, I went over to Bert's shop to pick him up for lunch. He is so devoted to his business, that he rarely takes time out for lunch, but as a concession to me, he did so. Afterwards, he went back to the shop, and I went off to the movies to see "Hairy Ape”. It was a fairly interesting film. Wm. Bendix was perfect in the title role and Susan Hayward was just too sweet-looking to be entirely convincing in her unsympathetic role, and I do think the direction was putrid, but as I said, it was a fairly interesting picture - no more. It might have been very good with more clever handling, though.

After the show, I headed back to the shop, where I "batted the breeze" with Bert until he closed up. I might have gone back with him, but I was afraid I might not be able to get a taxi later to take me to the parking lot to catch the truck, so I thought it a better idea to spend the intervening time here, and get this off to you at the same time.

Well honey, that's that for this furlough. I can't truthfully say I enjoyed every minute of it, but the “high spots,” such as meeting Limey, the time I spent with Bert and Evelyn, the films I saw, etc., more than compensated me for the monotony of hours of riding on trains. Then, too, I did see quite a bit of England during the course of my travels, so all in all, I am very pleased with the way it all turned out. My only regret is that I didn’t get to see Eddie S. this trip.

Believe it or not, sweet, I’m rather eager to get back to camp. Can you guess why? That's it - I can hardly wait to see how many letters have accumulated for me this past week, I fully expect the next one to inform me that Eddie is either home, or on his way. I can hardly wait to see what you have to say about that!

I am most acutely aware, darling, that it is only nine days to the punkin’s second birthday. Before leaving, I instructed Red to have Adele's present ready for me when I got back. He promised to do so, and I don't think he’ll disappoint me, so I'll be sending it along tomorrow.

Please excuse the delay if it's a few days late getting there, honey. As you know, I would have sent it off more than a week ago if Red hadn’t spoiled the first one. In the meantime - tell Adele that daddy's present to her is on the way, and kiss her for me.

My thoughts have been with you almost constantly this past week, sweetheart, and I often found myself wishing that you were by my side. Good-night for now, sweet Chippie—I adore you. My love to all.

Forever, 

Your Phil