Post #615 - March 26, 1945 I Phoned Dr. Gayl and Took Adele Right Down for Her First Scarlet Fever Shot and Somehow I Feel Guilty that I Should Be the Cause of Your Driving Yourself to Write Under Those Prohibitive Conditions

 

3/26/45 

My dearest Phil,

I have so much to say this evening and so little time and space. Three "wonderful" things happened to me today - your package of Dorothy Gray toilet articles arrived along with your letters of March 16 and 19. Mom called me at work to tell me about the package and we were all sure it was the doll. I was as excited as could be till I got to it. It comes in a light pink and big box with an enormous fuschia colored ribbon on top. It contains a bottle of bath oil (I don't even know how or what it's used for) a large box of dusting powder with a real glass top and a bottle of cologne. It's really lovely and I wish very much that I could kiss you instead of thank you - I’d enjoy it that much more. I'm not going to use it, though, until you come home and can help me enjoy it. Your letter of the 16th was in answer to my v-mail, decrying the lack of mail. I'm so glad you didn't "fly" at me for being so disgusted and you know as well as I do that I don't mean to hurt you. I just couldn't help feeling so terribly let-down. I'm sure you yourself can see how differently I sound when I receive mail regularly. Your v-mail of the 19th told of your visit to the Marks’ and I shall look forward to your letter of the 19th, which, no doubt, tells more of your visit with Bert and Evelyn. Yep, you sure is stubborn about the gee-gaw, but I don't mind waiting for that in the least. As you must have guessed, your birthday gift arrived almost to the day. At least your timing is better than mine. I had a very full day at work. Adele woke me twice last night and I wasn't too rested. Immediately after work I phoned Dr. Gayl and took Adele right down for her first scarlet fever shot (I'll bet you thought I'd never get around to it) (I had run into Mrs. Gayl on Saturday and told her I was about to give Adele the injections). Adele and I took the bus to Broad and Allegheny where the doctor has his office at present and got there in no time. Adele behaved like a regular young lady (she was a bit leery about entering his office at first) and when the doctor walked into the waiting room, said, "You must be the doctor." Adele weighs 34 lbs. is 37-1/2 inches tall and has very big tonsils that will have to come out in the fall or next spring. I hope, baby, that you will be home by that time so that we can both take her to the hospital. It's quite an ordeal and I hate to go through it alone. If I have to, I'll have to—I attracted her attention and before she knew what had happened the injection was finished. He gave me chocolate aspirins and told me to give her bicarb with boiled water (after the third shot) as they tend to become feverish and want to vomit. I’ll be very happy when this business is all over. There are generally five shots, but they increase them to seven (giving smaller doses towards the end) depending on how the child reacts. I had the doctor weigh me and I weigh 116-1/2, which he said isn't too bad for me. When we were riding home on the bus Adele said, "Him's a bad boy, him put a needle in my arm." I put Adele to bed, washed her clothes, cleaned her shoes and even sewed her overalls. Now I'm just about finished with this and "finished" for the night. I'm sure you won't mind if I cut this short??? by saying "I love you, Phil, darling" and, as if you didn't know, I miss you so much! Imagine, I'll be 23 - gosh, I'm getting up there, too. Good night, angel, and thanks so much for your devotion and love. It makes life bright for

Your Eve

26 March 1945 

My Darling,

Three of your v-mails arrived this afternoon, but they were little more than notes, which said more eloquently than any words, that you were not so much concerned with telling me anything  as you were with getting a letter in the mail to me each day. It was easy for me to sense that you had little patience for writing on those days the, 15th, 17th, & 18th, even if you hadn't told me the reason, Sweetheart. It is to your very great credit then, honey, that you did write, and I want you to know that I'm grateful for what must have been a hard effort for you on my account. Somehow I feel guilty that I should be the cause of your driving yourself to write under those prohibitive conditions. Please, baby, spare yourself the next time, will you? I’ll understand.

Last night, I saw "Tree Grows in Brooklyn” and was very disappointed that the picture covers only a portion of the story in the book. I told you in yesterday's letter that I meant to start a letter to Mom when I came back from the show, but I was very tired and drowsy when I returned to the hut and hit the sack straightaway. I feel the same way tonight, although I can’t imagine why I should. Guess Mom's letter will have to wait a more favorable opportunity. Tell her I’m thinking of her, will you, baby? "

The weather has turned bad again, and I’ve been gadding about in the rain a good bit today. Seems like my spirits depend a good deal on whether the sun shines or not.

I’ll write a “real” letter tomorrow, Ev darling, and will enclose the proofs. My love for you grows and grows, my own, and sometimes I wonder where I’ll hold it all. Kiss my punkin for me. God bless you both. Love to all.

Lovingly,

Your Phil

Post #614 - March 24, 25, 1945 I Only Wish We'd Both Come to Life Inside Once More and I Even Made a Bet as to the Date of V-Day

 

March 25, 1945

Dearest Phil:

Adele did not go to sleep until after ten last night and I never got to bed till twelve. I was sure Adele would sleep later this morning and allow me to get some sleep - but evidentally she doesn't think I need any. She was up like a bat out of a cannon, at 7 sharp and rarin' to go. If only you were here and could take her off my hands at these times - I'd certainly appreciate being able to sleep - just one single morning. I can't seem to remember ever lying abed until I felt like getting up - what's it like? I know you don't do it often, but at least you get the opportunity to do it once in a while. If you think the Army with its rulings and enforcements is bad, mister, you ought to try being a mother - any and everything goes and then some.

I decided not to nap her so that she would go to bed early and give me at least one evening to myself. So - I ran around with her all day long and tired myself out but good. I had promised Mom we would clean the venetian blinds downstairs today, and brought Adele in about 3:30 and let her play her on the porch while we busied ourselves with the blinds. It was 5:30 when we finished. Adele had her dinner and went straight to bed. She wouldn't go to sleep for quite a while, but she's sleeping now and I'm so thankful to have a little time to myself.

Emma Strongin called us late in the afternoon to tell us that she is leaving for California this evening to join Phil. It's possible that Phil may go overseas and she wants to be with him as much as possible if such is the case.

The news sounds wonderful, in fact I sometimes have to pinch myself to make it seem true. Do you mean to tell me, sweet, that this war might be over soon? Incredible! After waiting so long, I've come to a point where I don't believe anything unless I see it with my own two eyes and I won't even believe that it is over until my eyes can gaze upon you.

I'm sorry, sweet, that I haven't had time to write to the Davies’ as you requested, and will try to do so in the near future. Adele keeps me stepping at such a fast pace when I am home these days that I have very little taste for letter-writing or anything that requires concentration. I noted, in your 22 page letter that you gave Mr. Edwards my mother's telephone number (Mic. 8207) and not our telephone number, which, in case you'd forgotten, is Dav. 2612.

Really, honey, I should take myself out tonight for some entertainment and relaxation, but I'm much too tired to stray from the house. It's two weeks since I've been out an evening and this continual staying in does me a whole lot of no good. I noted in your last batch of letters that you seem to make the most of each evening, by going to the movies, weekly dance or whatever comes your way. I enjoy reading your accounts of each because it makes up in part for the times I have to stay in. I usually relax in the living room for a little while before hitting the hay and read and reread your letters. I've reread your 22 pager many, many times. It's almost a book. I do hope someday you'll try to write a book. I know you have the talent (even though you think I'm prejudiced} and I assure you I am not, in that respect, as numerous others share my opinion.

Spring shone forth in all its glory and brought everyone out on their porches and steps. It's good to see the world come to life again, after a bitter cold winter. I only wish we'd both come to life inside once more -

I adore you, darling, and want very much to continue on this, however I must get a card to send to Stuart (today is his first birthday) and will post this at the same time. Good night, baby, and I pray I shall not have to say it through this medium much longer.

Your Eve

25 March 1945

Dearest Evie,

There was no fresh mail for me today, and because it has been no different than most days, I don’t have anything much to write about. I was reading over your letter of 28 Feb. that accompanied the proofs of the punkin and noticed that I had failed to tell you which post to have made up for me. Hence I am submitting my order forthwith: One (1) 5 x 7 (sitting pose), colored—of course! I’m awaiting the other picture (of Adele writing on the blackboard) with the greatest impatience. Glad you got out to the movies, for a change, to see “Frenchman’s Creek” with Eddie. What is Eddie doing these days, incidentally, still taking it easy? This evening I’m going to see “Tree Grows in Brooklyn” at the base theater. I’m looking forward to it with a great deal of pleasurable anticipation, ’cause if it’s anything like the book, it should be a “smasher” (as Bert might say). I’m going to try to catch the first showing so that I’ll have an hour or two afterward to start a letter to Mom.

The news from Germany gets more encouraging daily. I even made a bet as to the date of V-day. I can’t tell you the date, Sweet, but I can say that I’m getting odds of 2-1, so you can gather from that that I didn’t guess too far into the future—

Forgot to tell you, honey, that your rather long air-mail letter of 13 March arrived yesterday. There was nothing about it that required any answering, since you filled almost the entire two typed pages with the descriptions of Ruth’s new dresses and your new jumper. The letter is remarkable, though, for the speedy trip it made. Eleven days for an air-mail letter is very good time, I think.

By the way, Chippie, if you are missing letters for 20 and 24 March just be patient a little longer, ’cause it’s a longie in a blue envelope, and may be slow getting thru. I started it on the 20th, and finished it on CQ last night. I’m anxiously awaiting your reply to the installment of the 24th, so give what I said a lot of thought before you attempt to answer it. Kiss Adele for me. Love to all. I love you, my Eve.

Your Phil

Post #613 - March 23, 1945 Adele is Sporting Half of a Red Sunburned Face and The Punkin, I Must Admit, Proved a Great Surprise to Me

 

3/23/45

3/24/45

Dearest Phil,

As you may have noted by the dateline, I attempted to get this off to you yesterday, but, as the fates would have it, I did not get the opportunity to write at all. Adele kept me busy until the wee hours and I was too exhausted to as much as think of writing. Today I received your v-mail of 15/Mar and thanks so much for the early birthday wishes. I'm kind of tired again this evening. It’s very late and I have the time of my young life getting our daughter to sleep. There simply is no sleep in her. She went to bed (she was in bed at 8:30) and actually went to sleep about 10:30. This morning, after interrupting me once during the night, she was up at 7:45. She hardly slept during the day, but I'll be darn if she’d go to bed this evening. It's just about 10 now and she's just dozing off. When I got back from work I got her carriage and Fay and Ruth (the girl who lives with her now) took their kids and we walked to Broad St. I had Adele out all afternoon, hoping the fresh air would aid in promoting sleep - oh yeh - all I did was tire myself. I'm exhausted, but she’s just loaded with pep. Wish she'd give me some - I could do with a little extra.

My dad has been bringing me in a chocolate square with raisins in it as a dessert after lunch and it was so good that I prevailed upon him to get me a whole box for you. Consequently, he recently purchased a box of 24 bars, and was fortunate in getting a large Hershey bar. I'm trying to accumulate some chiclets and just as soon as I have a fair sized package it will go off.

It might interest you to know that I deposited the $10 gift from Seymour to our account and bought a $25 bond this month. Anne, (the bookkeeper) used to work for a beauty concern, and got me a whole pint of creme shampoo that only the beauty shops use, at the wholesale price of $1.50. It has lovely perfumy smell and I’ve started to use shampoo instead of soap, as formerly, on Adele’s hair. It's really good stuff and I love the odor. When I wash Adele’s hair with, it she says, "Mommy, it smells like perfume," Did I tell you that Adele understands quite a bit of Jewish? Well, she does.

Anne Presti called me yesterday morning and invited me to a shower to be held on Tuesday night for Marie. I haven't decided whether or not I'll attend, but in all likelihood I will.

Mr. Chase (Brighten Beach) had a heart attack and the doctor has confined him to his bed for the time being. Ethel and Al are going into New York by train tomorrow to pay him a visit. He hasn't been feeling so good of Iate.

Stuart will be a year old on Monday - doesn't the time fly? Haven't decided what I'll give him as a birthday gift.

The weather was beautiful today. My mom had Adele outside all morning and let her nap in the stroller. Adele was in the sun and my mom didn't realize how warm the sun was - so Adele is sporting half of a red sunburned face.

I'm going to wash my air, knit little bit (I don't think I’ll ever finish Adele's sweater in time for the Spring season) and hit the hay. In fact I may just skip everything and hit the hay, cause I'm very sleepy.

So it is that a very sleepy "dirl" says "good night" to her “boy” and tells him, oh so tenderly, that she loves him deeply and wants him to be close to

Your Eve

23 March 1945

Darling Eve,

Just got back from the Aero Club, where, together with Klein, Bloom, Weinstein, I enjoyed a real American feast many thanks to that swell package I received from you the other day. Klein wangled a dozen eggs from a farmer, so while he fried the salami, I beat up the eggs to fry with it. Then we mixed the tuna with the mayonnaise, sliced the cheese, got 24 pieces of buttered bread, put it all on plates, and settled down to a real feed. We all certainly enjoyed it, Chippie, and I know you would have been repaid the trouble and expense you went to in preparing and mailing the package, could you have seen how we relished the meal!

This afternoon, at last, your letter containing the proofs of the punkin arrived. How can I describe what I felt when I looked at the sweet images of my very own daughter? Even in the pictures, she is so utterly appealing, that I felt a sense of frustration because I couldn't hold her my arms. God, how I long for the day when I shall be able to do so! The pictures themselves are lovely beyond my fondest expectations. I too, prefer the sitting pose, but some of the fellows favor the other. However, they are both very good pictures, and I can hardly wait to see the finished article. The punkin, I must admit, proved a great surprise to me. I expected her to be big, and cute, but not that big, or so very adorable! You're doing a great job of raising her, Sweet, and don't think that I've forgotten it for a minute. I'm so very proud of both my Chippies. I have only one complaint, if you'll permit me, and that is that you didn't take heed of my wishes, and neglected to have your own photo made.

I'm still working on the longie of 20 Mar., darling, but I expect to have it finished by tomorrow. I'll send the proofs back then.

Thanks, again, honey, for everything—Kiss my precious punkin for me—very thoroughly, and know that I will be envying you each kiss. I adore you both, my adorable girls—Love to all

Your devoted Phil

Post #612 - March 22, 1945 I Keep Wondering, Almost Constantly Whether or Not I Shall See You in ’45 and Everything Looks So Calm and Peaceful, That It Strikes Me as a Distinct Paradox That War Planes are Droning in the Sky

 

March 22, 1945

My darling,

There was no mail today and since I haven’t much to say anyway, I’m going to write instead of going over to 4920 to type. I did receive an invitation to Marie Presti’s wedding, which is to take place March 31st at the church at 5th & Lindley, and hope to be able to attend. It rained all day and was generally miserable. I had a very full day at work and accomplished all I had set out to do.  As I contemplate the date it seems to me that the first quarter of ’45 has literally flown. I keep wondering, almost constantly whether or not I shall see you in ’45. If the war does not end very shortly I shall give up hope of seeing you this year. Darling, I miss you so terribly much—sometimes I feel that if I don’t see you soon I’ll simply die. Adele awoke early, after a quiet night (for a change) with this remark, “Mommy, it’s raining. It’s pouring!” Each night she talks to your picture and asks you how you are & when you’re coming home. We both love you so much!

Your Eve

22 March 1945

My Sweet,

Just finished another full day at work, and thought I’d take the tail end of it to get off my daily letter to  you. The weather today is downright wonderful. Everything looks so calm and peaceful, that it strikes me as a distinct paradox that war planes are droning in the sky. However, there is a general feeling that the hum won’t last much longer. The English papers are saying that the next big battle will be the last one. To be perfectly frank, baby, if it weren’t for the fact that a good many of us are slated for the Pacific Theater (no one knows who, or how many of us yet), I would be a pretty happy guy. Right now, I, and many others in my situation, am hoping that we’ll be able to see some time at home first, if we are going to the Pacific. The Secretary of War, Mr. Stinson (just by way of building up our morale, I suppose) has stated that the great majority of men now in the ETO will, after Germany collapses, see action against Japan, and that some units will go direct from here to the Pacific Theater. So you see, Chippie, the prospect is none too bright. I wonder how you feel when you read such statements, and I also question the wisdom of making such statements for the service men to read. It strikes me as very strange that the gov’t. should spend millions of dollars on “special services” in their well-meant and well-appreciated efforts to maintain high morale in the services—and then undo all their good work with a small paragraph in the papers by our esteemed Secretary or some other high official. To top it off, the “high officials,” who should know what is in the offing, often come out with statements that contradict each other. I’ve been in the Army too long now to be influenced too thoroughly by what anyone says, but I deplore the fact that you have to read such depressing stuff, my darling. I can just imagine how bitter you must feel about it all—However, Sweet, there is always the consoling thought that things will, in actuality, work out better than those in high places would have you believe. They have been wrong so many times, that I no longer place any faith in any statements pertaining to the future—no matter how authoritative the source. Just continue to be patient and brave, my lovely, and, whatever happens, place your utmost faith in the eventual safe return of the guy who adores you,

Your Phil

P.S. My best love to the punkin—and all.

Post #611 - March 21, 1945 Sylvia's Mother was Mom’s Next Door Neighbor 28 Years Ago and Everything Looks and Smells So Appetizing That I Can Hardly Restrain Myself from Sampling It

 

3/21/45

My sweet:

There were two pieces of mail for me today - your v-mail of 14/Mar and Milt's letter of 13/Mar. You ask one question - what my reaction is when Adele does something cute or smart. Frankly, honey, there isn't much of any reaction. I simply look upon her and wonder how anything like it could come from such a little person, that’s all. She's constantly surprising me with her remarks. The other morning Harry was teasing Diana with a piece of bread, and Adele remarked: "Stop teasing her, Harry,” which made us all laugh. She was so deadly serious when she said it that you couldn't help laughing.

I feel much better today than I've felt for almost a week and I’m going to do my very best to get to bed as early as possible. I was so dead tired when I got to bed last night that I couldn't sleep. All this week I've been getting into work later than usual and so far this week Mr. Bellet hasn't been in. He had a cold and his brother, who is a doctor, suggested that he rest up for a few days. He may stay out the entire week, which is extra special good news for all of his employees. Perhaps he does not realize it, but he's giving our nerves a rest, too. He asked me to stop over to the house this evening so that he could go over the day's work with me and I'm going over there for a little while when I finish this.

Instead of the terrific heat, which had been prevalent for the past few days, we had rain all day and it became much cooler, just as the weatherman predicted. So - it was back to the snowsuit and sleepers for Adele. Only last night I had changed her to seersucker pajamas! What goofy weather!

You've heard me speak of Milt's girlfriend Sylvia several times. Well, mom happened to remember the other evening that Sylvia's mother was her next door neighbor 28 years ago when she (mom) lived on Cantrell Street, shortly after coming to this country. Did I hear you say something about this being a small world? By the way, the Brown’s car burned in a fire that took place at the garage where the car is kept. Luckily the car is insured and the only good thing left is the motor. I don't know what they will do about it. It doesn't pay to have it fixed these days. If I were them I'd get what I could and save it to buy another car after the war. They haven't heard from Syd for almost two weeks, so they presume he's returned overseas. He was stationed somewhere in Virginia last they heard from him.

It's a pleasure to receive mail so regularly from you, sweet, and all I can say is to keep up the good work. Some day I hope to catch up on my movies, just as you seem to be doing now. I believe you've seen at least 50 to my one - no kiddin'. I can't even remember the titles of the pictures you see, as most of them are not familiar to me. Seems like I've sort of lost track of movies, somehow. Good night for now, baby, I'm so hungry for you and I'd like very much to hold you very close and tell you just once more what I’ve been telling you all these years - that I adore you, my dearest one.

Your Eve

21 March 1945

Darling Chippie,

Today, the first day of Spring, was a model of what a real Spring day should be. The sun shone in a cloudless sky, and the fresh breeze was laden with the fragrance of green, growing things. However, I wasn’t free to take a long ride thru the country-side, or play ball, or do any of the things that such a day makes you want to do. I had plenty to do in the Orderly Room, and was kept busy all day. This evening, in the line of relaxation, I had a choice between the movies or the dance (or both, if I wanted to skip writing tonight), so I decided to make the first show, which would leave me time to write. Trouble is, I received no mail today, and after telling you all the latest news in yesterday’s letter, I hardly know what to write about—I haven’t started on the package of food yet. I’m contemplating taking it in with me next time I visit Bert and Evelyn. Everything looks and smells so appetizing that I can hardly restrain myself from sampling it.—Wonder if it would be too much to ask you to send another just like it? Don't bother with the cigarettes—I get all I need, and don’t
go too far out of your way for candy, either, honey. You might “double up” on any of the other items that, possibly, you can procure easily.

Well, honey, what else can I tell you tonight? Any small talk I may be able to dream up would give you an entirely erroneous impression of what I am really thinking and feeling, but since you must know pretty well by now what goes on in my heart and mind, I won't repeat it in the limited space that's left. After all—if I told you that there isn’t, and never could be, any other girl in the world for me, or that I think you the loveliest, sweetest, dearest wife a fellow could have, or that I’m very, very proud to be your husband, it would only be a repetition of what I have said many times in the past,—so I won’t say it! But I do love you, Ev, so much!

Your Phil

Post #610 - March 20, 1945 Here ’tis Our Fourth Anniversary, but There was Nothing Unusual About the Day and This Morning, Just After I Rose, I Heard a Mighty Hum in the Sky

 

March 20, 1945

My dearest one,

Here ’tis our fourth anniversary, but there was nothing unusual about the day, except for the fact that H & G gave me a rose & blue brunch coat. I did receive two v-mails from you, dated March 12 & 13, which require no comment. The weather continues “hot” & uncomfortable, but the weatherman predicts it will be much cooler and normal soon.

I’m terribly weary & warm, having just finished bathing Adele, getting her to sleep, washing, pressing & sewing! I made up my mind to keep very busy so I wouldn’t have a minute to think & I believe I’ve succeeded. It’s sheer effort that is helping me to write this, as I am almost asleep.

Phil, my darling, we must be together for our “fifth.” (Just looking forward to the wait of a year turns my stomach.) I miss you so much, sweet, and my love grows ever stronger. I hope & pray that we’ll be together in a matter of months—life is so meaningless without you—I love you, Phil, dearest, & pray that your dreams & mine will come true in the near future, so that you can return to

Your

Eve

20 March 1945

My Darling Wife,

That’s a very special salutation for a very special girl on a very special day—Tonight, more than any night since last 20 March—I miss you, baby. All day today I’ve been thinking of another 20 March—you know which one I mean, and wondering just how much longer we’ll have to wait to keep that date in “1777”— Darling, the prospect of that happy occasion is so precious, that I get a lump in my throat just contemplating it. God grant it be soon! You’ll forgive me, Ev, dearest, if I don’t make this my customary “anniversary letter.” You see, Sweet, I have quite a lot to write about tonight, and I’ll never get done if I let myself get “wound up” on the subject. Bear with me, then, if I merely express the heartfelt wish that our next anniversary will find us together once more. I know that is your wish, too, my darling—

I received your very sweet long letter of 26 Feb. this afternoon that calls for a lot of “answering,” but before I get into that, I want to tell you what I did with the remainder of my leave—

Let’s see now—I believe I left you on the morning of the 19th—After I finished writing, I went ’round to Last’s Cafe for lunch. First, I stopped for Bert at his shop, intending to take him along, but he was busy with a salesman, and couldn’t leave. But my lunch was not a solitary one, because shortly after I seated myself, an elderly couple sat down opposite me, and almost immediately engaged me in conversation. We had a very nice chat while we were eating. During the dessert course—(ice cream, no less) they introduced themselves as Mr. & Mrs. Greenwood, gave me their address, which is a few miles outside Colchester, and told me they would be very happy if I would drop in and spend an evening with them sometime. Their three daughters are all in the service, and they confessed that they are very lonely as a consequence. Mrs. Greenwood, who is a gentle, refined, old lady seemed a bit embarrassed when Mr. Greenwood, who is her masculine counterpart, tendered me the invitation in all earnestness. Being the more acute of the two, I could see by her manner that she felt that a young? soldier like myself could hardly find any attraction in spending an evening with old people like themselves. In order to give me some incentive for doing so, she told me, almost shyly, that if I would come, she would make me a nice meal. They were so painfully eager to have me, but so diffident about showing it, that my heart went out to them in their loneliness. Some day, when I get the opportunity, I’ll drop in on them and show them that I would certainly enjoy visiting with them—

After lunch, I went to the movies to see “Sunday Dinner for a Soldier.” It was a frankly sentimental film, wholesome in its ideals, unashamedly tender in the portrayal of each and every character, and altogether the sort of film that we used to enjoy so much, my Sweet. Anne Baxter has a wonderful opportunity to show what she is capable of, and acquits herself with flying colors. She does a beautiful job of acting as Tessa, the girl with the “mother complex.” The kids (I forget their names) are so good, that I could hardly believe my eyes. John Hodiak I just don’t like—Seems like the gals find him very attractive (at least Evelyn and Betty did), but for my money, he is the most repulsive male who ever played leading man—it is his mouth I don’t like. However, lest I appear prejudiced by his looks, I will concede that he does very well by his part, too. Charles Winninger, the perennial, is, as always, superb. His portrayal of “Grandfeathers” is something to behold. I cannot recommend this film too highly, honey. My only regret was that you weren’t there to share it with me.

I came back to Bert’s shop, waited a half-hour or so for them to close up, and accompanied Mr. Cohen and Bert in his car to Old Heath. After we had tea, Evelyn and Betty (a friend and neighbor of the Woolfs) went off to see “Sunday Dinner—”, while Mr. Cohen, Bert and I settled down to a three-handed game of cards. About 9:30, I booked a cab to take me to the station at 11:00, but, as on a previous occasion, he never showed up, and I was stuck. There was only one thing to do then, so I did it. I called the CQ in the Orderly Room and told him what had happened; that I would be in next morning, and that he should notify Sgt. Murphy. Then I went to bed in the big, comfortable bed in the front room, which Mr. Cohen insisted I do when I protested that I could sleep just as well in the “air-raid bed” in the living-room. But he wouldn’t hear of it, and that’s the way it was. I was, unaccountably, very tired and sleepy when I hit the hay at midnight, and slept like a log ’til 8:30 in the morning. After breakfast, Mr. Cohen and I caught the bus into town, where, luckily, I met one of our trucks. I was the only passenger on the way back to base. The CQ had failed to report my call to Sgt. Murphy, but when that worthy missed me in the morning he called the CQ and asked if I had called in, so he knew why I was late. Capt. Crane, who was in the Orderly Room when I walked in, asked me about it. When I explained that the cabbie had disappointed me and left me stranded in Old Heath, he took it with good grace and said no more about it, for which I was very thankful. I wasted no time changing into my fatigues and getting to work—of which there was plenty. I was kept plenty busy for the rest of the day.

You may have noted, Chippie, that I had precious little time from the morning of the 19th ’til now to write, and it appears that I’ve gypped you out of a letter after all. Sorry, honey—

It’s almost time for lights out now, so I’ll have to quit writing for the time being. I have still to answer your letter of 26 Feb., but I’ll do that tomorrow.

Hasta mañana, then, sweetheart—I love you dearly—Love to the punkin—and all from

Your adoring Phil

24 March 1945

Hello again, darling—

As you have seen, I didn’t get the opportunity to continue with this for the last four days. However, since I did manage to get a V-mail off to you on each of those days, I know you will concede that I’m doing okay by you. All right—baby?

I am CQ tonight and am starting this early because I have a lot to say, and intend to make this a real longie. Before I begin answering your letter of the 26th Feb., though,—a few lines about what I did today.—

The weather continues perfect. There wasn’t a wisp of cloud in the sky all day, and the sun shone uninterruptedly. This morning, just after I rose, I heard a mighty hum in the sky. Before I looked, I knew what I would see—we’ve been expecting it for days and weeks now.

In the afternoon, I was called to the Classification Office to take a test to determine if I’m qualified to hold my rating as “Clerk-Typist.” The minimum requirement is 35 words per minute. Unfortunately, I never learned to use the touch system, although I do hit the keys with the right fingers, and I must look at the keyboard to make any kind of speed. Well, on the first try I scored 31 w.p.m., on the second try 34. By that time I was so jittery that I dropped back to 33 on the next try. But I was damned if I was going to let them take away my rating by that close a margin. If it had been 20 or 25 w.p.m., I would have given it up as hopeless (as indeed I thought it was—before I started). Finally, on the ninth attempt, I knocked out 39 w.p.m., with one error, which still gave me a bare passing grade of 36. Whew!

Forgot to tell you that I received your and Mom’s and H & G’s birthday greetings, together with two very nice letters, one from Mom, and one from Goldie, the latter containing the snapshot of Diana Jean. I hope to answer them within the next few days, but I’m through making promises that I’m not sure I’ll be able to keep. Thanks for the greeting, honey, and thank Mom and H & G for remembering me, too—just in case I don’t get the chance to do so myself.

And now to yours of the 26—On that day you received nine of my letters at once. I’m glad they pleased you, darling. You wondered why Lt. Toms saw fit to cut away part of that letter in which I discussed morals. He brought it to my attention that he couldn’t permit me to say anything detrimental to the character of the English women and our soldiers, and since I had done just that, to his way of thinking, he had to cut it out.

A few paragraphs later, you say some things that I’m not sure I want to understand. You say you are “a little worried with (my) strong feelings and ideals.” For the life of me, I just can’t grasp why my particular “feelings and ideals” should worry you. All this time, I had been laboring under the delusion that I was reassuring you! Further on, you make some statements that both amaze and frighten me—things like “I think, honey, that you’d be a lot better off if you’d simply relax and forget about ‘the fitness of things.’ I wish you’d learn to let yourself go and simply have a good time. To hell with what other people say and do! Now I’ve said it!”—And what have you said, Sweet? Frankly, I don’t get it! Do you mean that it wouldn’t bother you if I had relations with other women? I’d hate to believe that! Yet what interpretation am I to put to your words? I assure you, baby, that even if you could condone my behaving that way, it wouldn’t by a particle change my attitude or actions. You see, Chippie, feeling the way I do, I would only grow to hate myself (and possibly you, too) if I were so weak that I would permit my animal instincts to triumph over my sense of human decency. Loving you as I do, I couldn’t bring myself to touch you if I comported myself one whit differently from how I would have you, yourself, behave in my absence. I am firmly convinced that no girl in the world, however charming, could even for a moment, tempt me to the extent that I would sacrifice my own self-respect for any temporary pleasure she might be able to afford me. Do you understand that, Eve? If I hadn’t told you on a few previous occasions how I feel about all this, I might not be surprised by your too-subtle suggestions. I might even take advantage of your “generosity” were I someone who was “good” solely out of apprehension of being found out by his “other half,” and not having any moral scruples of his own. As it is, I can only assume that you are very far from understanding, in spite of my efforts to enlighten you, that marital promiscuity, even in its mildest form, both disgusts and horrifies me. I’m sure you know (from actual experience, at that) how strongly I have always felt about this—that is why I am so sorely puzzled by your seeming offer of “carte blanche.” Tell me, Sweet, just what would you think if I told you what you told me—in the very same words? I think  you would be just as confused as to my real meaning as I am of yours! You also know, I think, what I expect of you in this connection, and you know, too, that all my happiness—my very life (and believe that I’m not exaggerating!) depends on your faithfulness and constancy. Knowing all this, then, in all fairness to us both, I demand that you expect no less of me than I do of you. I’m very, very proud of what we had, Sweet, and I won’t abide anyone trying to cheapen it—no, not even  you! At this point, I am aware that my feelings (possibly too “strong” for your peace of mind, since you have said they “worry” you) have dictated to my pen, but you must realize, darling, that nothing is more important than that we understand each other perfectly in this matter. For this reason, I must ask you not  to speak in riddles ever again, even at the price of sacrificing your innate modesty to me. (There is no room for that–(modesty)— between us, anyway!) I must further ask you, for my own peace of mind, to please explain exactly what you had in mind when you wrote that paragraph. I’m not so thick that I could read what you said without realizing that you were suggesting much more than what the words, in themselves, indicate, so you needn’t bother to soothe my feelings by pretending that they don’t mean what I took them to mean. Please don’t misunderstand me, darling—I can well appreciate what prompted you to say what you did. It is perfectly evident to me that you pity me for my lack of “companionship”—to give it a nice name. Moreover, I would be unfeeling in the extreme if I did not appreciate and acknowledge your sympathy (even if it is uncalled for) and your generosity (even if it is misplaced). At worst, I can only blame you for a lack of understanding, and regret deeply, that my marital constancy means so little to you that you could say—(there’s no mistaking your meaning here, because you used the very same words once before when we were discussing the subject in bed one night). “The only time it bothers me is when it affects me directly, otherwise—.” What other meaning can the blank have than that you don’t care? That statement, Chippie, as innocent as you take it to be, cut very deeply—both times. Because, you see, I do care—very much indeed, and you don’t flatter me by admitting that it’s immaterial to you. I want you to care, don’t you see, dearest? But enough of this—I deplore the necessity for discussing a subject that is as distasteful to me as it must be to you, but I know you will admit that it was necessary that I try to make you understand why your well-meant, but obnoxious remarks affected me so unfavorably.

I see I have used up much time and space replying to one paragraph in your letter, but there are some questions that need answering. It is very late now, and I’m very tired and sleepy, so you’ll forgive me, I trust, if I answer them briefly—

S & D did send me a bonus of 15.00 last Xmas, and I did tell you about it in a letter shortly after Xmas. You can check me on that.

Your paragraph that told me the glad tidings that your mother and dad now own 4920 “clear” was well received. Congratulate them for me. It also served to remind me of something Bert and I were discussing the other day. Namely, the almost certain eventuality of post-war inflation, and the wisdom of putting your savings into property—now. Your argument, I anticipate, will be that real estate prices are sky-high now, and that it would be folly to buy under present conditions, but mark my word, Sweet, when the “boys” come home with their savings, bonuses, etc., prices will go still higher simply because everyone will have plenty of money to buy with, and there won’t be anything much to buy. Those things that are always salable (such as property—especially property) will bring fancier prices than you every dreamed possible—ketch? I’m not saying that there’s anything you can do about it right now, but it’s a point worth considering, don’t you think?

In writing of my recent birthday (and approaching senility—to hear you tell it) you say “Phil, I’m so dependent upon you for so many things!” Do you mind very much that I’m so selfish that that statement pleases me? I can’t help feeling proud that it is so. I earnestly hope that it pleases you just as much to contemplate that I am every bit as dependent on you, my darling—for everything!

Your closing paragraph, in wishing me “Happy Birthday,” is a model of tenderness and endearment. Thank you so much, my sweet. Thanks, too, for the 31 kisses (I know now that the extra one is for good luck), and consider that I am repaying you in kind herewith. Your own birthday is only a few days away, and you can bet I’m very much conscious of the fact! Happy birthday to you, too, honey, and may all your fondest dreams come true before your next! Perhaps you know a little better than ever before what I mean when I say “I adore you.” My love to all. I am

Your Phil

P.S. I’m holding the proofs another day ’cause I promised Evelyn I’d show them to her when they arrived. I’ll see her tomorrow and mail them back to you on the 26th (next day)—sure.

Post #609 - March 19, 1945 Adele is At a Stage Where She Wears the Nerves of the Strongest to a Frazzle and I Visited With the Marks’ the Whole Day

 

March 19, 1945 

Phil, dearest,

Today I hit the "real" jackpot, getting your letter, or should I say, “manuscript" of 22 pages and honestly, sweet, I was on needles all day long, as I hadn't the time to read it through. I read a snap of it going down to work, a snatch of it at work, a snatch coming home and finally, at home, I managed to get it all read. However, I want to reread it many times, so that I may absorb it fully. It makes interesting reading and is beautifully written - I'm proud of you! Really would like to comment on many phases of it, but there is so little time, especially for writing of that caliber. I love to write when I'm relaxed, and really could write reams, but I'm always so tired and busy with other "musts" that I lose patience quickly. I haven't been feeling well and am trying to rest as much as possible. I've been feeling nauseous for the past three days and attribute it to three things: Adele's not sleeping and teething, my "period"! and the unusually warm weather. When Adele doesn't sleep, I can't either and it makes it tough all around. Adele is at a stage where she wears the nerves of the strongest to a frazzle and I'm never relaxed while she is awake. I never completely relax unless she is fast asleep. At the present time her eating is poor, her sleeping is poor and she's cranky most of the time, making it difficult for both my mother and me. I’m intensely relieved that I do not have to be with Adele constantly or my nervous system would crack. You have to go through all sorts of stages, with kids and there isn't any need to tell you how happy I'll be when the “teething" part of it is over - completely,

There were also four v-mails for me from you, dearest, those of March 8, 9, 10, 11, all of which were most interesting, sweet and welcome. No, I don't mind the brevity of your letters, as long as I have them regularly to keep my spirits up. You say in one of your v-mails that you go to class for instruction in "classification" (what is that?). Your v-mail of the 9th just about reached me on our anniversary and was very loving and just the sort I felt like receiving.

I have the opportunity to get this "longie" off tonight, as I do not think I'll have much heart for anything tomorrow. Little did I dream that our "fourth” would be spent in this way, but I sort of felt it way down deep. It hurts so much to see them pass without having you - I quote from yours of the 9th, "Sometimes, Chippie, I find myself wondering if you can ever possibly know the fullest extent of my love for you - if you could ever actually feel exactly how I think about you” - It's a funny thing, baby, and it probably won't surprise you to know that I think and feel the exact same way many times, I just feel that there isn't enough to show you how much I really do love you - Phil - Words are even useless to express how deep my feelings go -

I am changing to black, for I believe it's easier to read than red. I wanted to give the red tape a break this evening. There is nothing else in any of the v-mails that inspires comment from me. I could say "oodles" about the 22 page letter, and would, if I had the time, but I want to tell you a few other things before signing off. It gives me great pleasure to know that you had such a splendid furlough and that you enjoyed yourself so thoroughly, that you made friends with people you like and who like you and that you saw so much. Need I add that I would have liked nothing better than to be with you, to enjoy it with you. I did, though, through the medium of your letter and wish to thank you for all your trouble and time spent writing it. Not receiving mail for such a long time bothered me to a great extent and I hope you understood why I was so disgusted when none showed up for such a time, I prefer the v-mails, as long as they come through regularly - enough said?

Yesterday I ended my v-mail to you with, "I am about to have my first taste of champagne". Adele sat with me on the dining room arm-chair and we ate together. I spent more time on her than I did on my dinner, as I did not want her to run about, and consequently, did not enjoy the meal as much as I thought I would. The Silvers had brought seven large rib-steaks that Rose (Goldie's stepmother) and Mom broiled for dinner. There was also peas, mashed potatoes, cole slaw, pickles, soda, vegetable soup and dessert. Champagne tastes like sour ginger ale and I think I could like it very much, once I acquired a taste for it, but I don't think it would pay me to acquire a taste for it. I even gave Adele a whee taste but she simply made a very wry face. Goldie's folks gave her a check (I don't know for what amount - she didn't say), two slips, two nightgowns and several other things for her birthday. Goldie's dad just can't do enough for her - he’d like to lay the world at her feet and probably could if given the chance. He started to cry when he had to leave and so did her brother. That's the Silver males for you. I like Rose immensely, but she's always rushing like mad and in spite of it she accomplishes a lot and looks good. He wants Goldie to come to Poughkeepsie with Diana this summer and stay a while. I never, in all my life, saw a father so devoted to his children as Mr. Silver is to his. My mother, with her small resources, has done all she could for me and my folks have been positively swell, nevertheless, I have never seen a father behave as Mr. Silver does. Even Uncle Sam is completely outshined by Mr. Silver.

Adele napped at my mother's in the afternoon, while I typed a long magilla for my mom to her attorney, concerning further settlement of the balance of the estate. It's much too complicated to discuss sensibly, so I won't attempt it. Suffice it to say that I typed for about two hours. Moreover, I had more ambition for typing at the time than I had for jumping over the moon. However, I had promised to do it for days and the attorney was waiting most patiently for it. So I "dooed" it.

After dinner, the Silvers took their leave. They trained to New York, where Mr. Silver had left his car and from New York to Poughkeepsie they drove. I took Adele upstairs straightaway for it was past seven and from seven to ten that kid just annoyed me to death. First it was "watee", then "sissy", then “milk", then "pick me up", then just plain "mommy" and so on. I couldn't understand why she wasn't sleepy, as she had arisen exceptionally early in the morning and hadn't slept most of the night. Try to figure those kids out and you'd really get a headache. By the way, Adele calls the lamps on our night tables "Mommy’s girl" and "Daddy's boy". She talks a blue streak about the doll you sent her and the fact that the doll's name is "Betty Jane". If ever you thought I could talk, honey, well I advise you not to get Adele started. She could give me a run for my money any day. Mickey and Rae came over in the evening to taste the remains of the champagne. Harry wound up the evening by buying ice-cream, pretzels and soda. When they called me down for ice-cream I had to take Adele down with me to share it, for she wouldn't stop crying. Even after I had let her have her share and play a bit, she didn't want to go up. When I finally got her into her crib, she cried some more - but she simply cried, for I refused to go up. In a few minutes all was still - blessed stillness and peace. God, what I wouldn't give for some plain ordinary peace and relaxation and rest! Maybe some day -

I spent the remainder of the evening fixing hems on Adele's three new pairs of overalls, which I described in yesterday's v-mail. The three pairs of chocolate brown, aqua and light blue gabardine cost me exactly $5.54, all totaled.

Adele hadn't a thing for every day wear and still requires many things which I intend to buy each week. It's a tough proposition trying to outfit her and myself at the same time. One of us has to do without in order for me to manage on my salary, and the only reason I have been spending so much is due to the fact that I have been making more money the past few weeks. However, I do not intend to put in any more extra time, as it is too tiring and I don't believe we'll be as busy as we were. I had to keep up with my work or I would have been snowed under with it. I'm up to date and keeping a steady pace at the moment. We're having the girl come in once a week to clean, so I have very little to do in the house these days and I'm most grateful for that.

While I was walking around with Adele on Sunday morning, I passed by Jean Levin's house and her mother called me in. I left Adele with Ruth and went in. Jean is now in France and visited the place where Eddie Strongin is located. She couldn't stay long enough to see him, but she left a note for him, saying that she had been there and told her mother to tell me about it. Her mother gave me her address and I shall write to her, when the time presents itself. I've been leaving the house about 10:30 in the morning and I don't get back till 6:45. By the time I read my mail, eat, put Adele to bed (bathe her) and get some clothes washed it is very late. Then I either write my letter and or letters, knit or try to relax before getting to bed. It's the same routine daily, without a break, unless I feel up to going out after nine in the evening, which I usually don't.

We rented our garage to Feldman, the druggist, to store his car and are asking the boy scouts to vacate, Mickey also told me something of interest to you. Remember Sol Shubert? Well, he was at Bastogne when the Germans hit and together with four other fellows hid in the woods for five days without food until they were sure of safety. Sol and the others are in hospitals in France, resting from the terrific ordeal.

It is past eleven now, sweet, and I must take my leave if I'm to have any sleep at all. I really feel like writing on and on - especially this being the eve of our fourth anniversary. I want to say all those loving things that overflow as I sit and think of "you" and "us" and our daughter and all that we've been through these many years, together and apart, I think we've both changed somewhat, if only in wisdom with the years. We shall be truly happy some day when we're together once more. Good night, dearest one, and may you soon be with us, who love you so dearly.

Your Evvie

19 March 1945

Dearest Darling,

I am using V-mail this morning because what I have to say of my activities since I wrote yesterday can be told in a few sentences—I visited with the Marks’ the whole day. Zena, Mrs. Marks’ sister, was busily engaged in bathing Stanley in the dining-room when I walked in. Helena, who had just had her bath, was in her underwear, and looked as fresh and fragrant as a rose-bud. Carol was already dressed, and greeted me at the door like I were a long-lost uncle. She’s such a vivacious little tyke, and so sweet, that I just had to pick her up and hold her. Mark finally procured a store on the next street, so he moved his business from the front room of the house to the shop, and furnished it as a living-room. He also installed a nice piano, and Helena is taking lessons. Mrs. Marks also plays. While they were all having lunch, I fooled around in the living-room on the piano. I had eaten at the Red Cross Club. I spent the afternoon with Mark, watching him work in his new shop, and the evening and night at the house, where Mrs. Marks made me a delicious platter of fried American salami and eggs. About 9:30, two more G.I.’s dropped in. Mark had some “feelthy pictures,” which he showed around. From then on, Mark and one of the G.I.’s took turns telling dirty jokes, which both Mrs. Marks and Zena seemed to enjoy, but which made me squirm because I wasn’t accustomed to that sort of thing in mixed company. I left at 11:00 and went back to the Red Cross and turned in. This morning, I was up and dressed by 9 o’clock, got the papers, had breakfast, and proceeded to my writing. At long last I managed to get a letter off to Dr. and Mrs. Davis. I started this directly afterward. Now it’s almost time for lunch, so I’ll sign off now with all my love to you, my darling, a kiss and a hug for Adele, and my love to all the Strongins and Pallers. See you tomorrow, honey—

Lovingly,

Your Phil