Post #672 - June 11, 1945 Tony Was Almost Killed Just Before Getting a Furlough from Germany to England and I Never Had More Cause for Optimism Than I Have at Present

 

June 11, 1945

Dearest Phil,

Last night after I had written to you, Anne called me and said, "I'm bored to tears. How's about comin' over?" I had just taken my clothes off and gotten into something more comfortable, my brunch coat, and since it was pouring pitchforks I declined. She promised to come over when Richy fell asleep, which turned out to be 10:15. We spent the evening, or what was left of it, chatting about one thing and another and when she was ready to go home it was pouring much too hard for her to leave. So it was that I was up till 12;30, at which time it let up sufficiently to allow her to go home. We had some tea and crackers with jelly and she told me how Tony was almost killed just before getting a furlough from Germany to England. While in England he visited his mother's sister, who hadn't seen any of her American relatives in 37 years. She was simply thrilled and so was he.

I was up bright and early, although I felt more like sleeping. We had our first taste of summer weather today. It was really hot in the sun, but it was cool indoors. I stopped at Geuting’s for Adele's shoes before going into work. I have an appointment with Dr. Lefkoe this coming Friday at 8:45; at which time he will examine & fit Adele's new shoes.

Did I tell you that Al is unemployed again. He was working for Budd's, but they had to let him go when an order came through to lay men off. He was well liked & they hated to let him go, but that's how it is. In spite of it, they took the bungalow at Browns Mills for the summer - at a cost of $400.00. No mail from you since Thursday so you must be on furlough. I love you so much, baby.—

Your Eve

11 June 1945

My Darling,

It has been a very full and busy day for me. - Looks like I’ll never get caught up with my work! Otherwise, there is nothing new or interesting to report. Just finished re-reading the letters which accumulated during my stay in hospital with an eye to any questions which require answering. Surprisingly, I noted only two queries in that category: (1) About the violin case. (2) About the points system. Well, Chippie, before I go any further, let's get that cleared up - (1) The violin case was never locked - I never had a key for it. In order to open it, you push the knob to your right, hold it there and lift the top. Simple, wasn’t it? (2) You're right, honey, about the Army's intention to lower the “critical score” in July, but the reductions won't be great enough to affect my status in any way - besides, the Air Corps critical score, which will be announced about the same time, will be higher than the critical score for other services, so I wouldn't be surprised if we'll be "sweating out” 85 points or more after the adjustment. No, Chippie, unless the WD wises up and authorizes the Service Gps that served with the Air Corps the same battle participation awards, the points I have don't mean a thing (not for the next 8-12 months, anyway). When I think of the deal we got on those BP awards, I burn up. Just think, I'd have 90 points if the WD had acted fairly in the matter. I'm sending along a clipping from" Yank", which is the letter that was sent in by our Group and signed by 454 men (me, too). You'll get a faint idea from this why we are so browned off at the way we're being kicked around. I might say one more word on the subject - although I'm far short of the number of points required for discharge, my total of 70 points is some 20 above the average for the Service Group. Soon, we will be readjusted on a basis of our scores, and the men with the highest number of points will be placed in “category IV” units, which are scheduled for return to the States. I hope to wind up in one of those lucky units. I'm more convinced than ever that I'll be coming home in a few months - even if I remain in my present outfit.

12 June 1945

Sorry, darling, but I was suddenly too restless to continue last night, so I decided to take a page out of your book and continue this today. (Shouldn't teach me bad habits!) Today was another very busy one for me, but I really got a lot done, and the day simply flew. I'm so thankful for that! The time never drags during the day ’cause I'm constantly working against time, trying to get as much as possible done. It's always the evenings that “get” me—

After three mail-less days, I received your longie of 2-3 June and your V-mail of 6 June. The former contained Jack's letter telling of his discharge from the Army - lucky guy! He's the one guy I've heard about who got more out of the Army than they got out of him. 

You've asked me a few times in your most recent letters to write to Mom & H + G about moving. Well, Chippie, I haven't done so for two reasons: First, I haven't had the time. Second, I'm not so sure it's a good idea right now. I know that you wouldn't want to leave 4906 if my homecoming were only a matter of weeks. Something I learned today gives me a great hope that it is a possibility, so I'd like you to maintain the status quo until 1 Aug. If I'm not home by then & I see no definite sign that I won't be shortly thereafter, I'll write that letter - O.K.?

You misunderstood my admonition about taking your cue from me in writing to Jack N. I didn’t mean to coax you to write to him. You know I have no right to do that since I write so infrequently to him. What I meant was that you shouldn't air any of your disappointment or displeasure about his marriage. I meant you to read what I had written and to adopt a similar attitude. Really, Sweet, I'm surprised you could misunderstand me so completely—

In your “P.S.” you asked a series of questions. Here are the answers: We embarked on 7 Aug 43 at Manhattan, N.Y. about 9 P.M. We were jammed in like sardines. The ship was the “Athlone Castle", not very big, but trim and fast. When we woke on the morning of 8 Aug., we were already far at sea—all alone—and that's the way we crossed the Atlantic - not in convoy. The first inkling we got of our destination was a little later that day, when we were given pamphlets about England - its customs, people and monetary system. I really enjoyed the trip across on those days when the sea was rough. No, honey, I didn't have even a trace of sea-sickness all the way across. There were no incidents and we arrived at Liverpool on 17 Aug. We went straight from the ship to a waiting train, which we boarded about 9 P.M. We rode all night across England (sleeping in our seats) and pulled into a little town called Harleston next morning. There we boarded trucks which took us to our base at Metfield, which is about 15 miles S.W. of Norwich and about 130 miles North of London. On 14 Apr. 44 we moved to the larger and nicer base at Raydon, which is just 8 miles south of Ipswich and 60 miles North of London. I think that answers just about all your questions. When I see you, darling, I'll tell you all the details.

Right now it's time to hit the hay, so I'll cut this short. In closing, let me say, sweetheart, that I never had more cause for optimism than I have at present. Keep your fingers crossed, baby, and pray for “us.” I adore you, Ev - I wish I knew the words to tell you how much. Here's a kiss to hold you until ~ and another for my beautiful bambina, our own Adele. Love to all from

Your Phil

Post #671 - June 10, 1945 l Understand the Points are Being Lowered and They Don't Seem to Be in Any Particular Hurry to Move Us Anyplace at the Moment

 

June 10, 1945

My dearest,

Goldie & Diana left early this morning & l can't tell you how much of a relief it is to me to see them leave. This, in itself, will be a vacation for me. Mom & I cleaned the house & Ed & my dad put the living room rug in the dining room & vice versa (at my request). The living room rug is worn threadbare in one spot & looked bad, hence the change. I like the change - it’s definitely much nicer this way. Ethel took the bungalow in Browns Mills & will be leaving in two weeks, & I think Mom will join her then or a week later.

We had the Browns (Tante, Unc, Syd, Bea, Miriam & little Anita) & H. Weinman for dinner & it was quite nice. Harry W. had to leave at 7 to catch his bus back to camp so Syd took him down to the station & Ruth, Miriam, Adele & I went along for the ride. It poured all day till late afternoon. Harry went to N.Y. with Goldie & Mr. Silver met them there and drove Goldie & Diana on to Poughkeepsie, while Harry returned to Philly. l understand the points are being lowered - think you might stand a chance now? I love you, baby - so much

Your

Eve

10 June 1945

Dearest Darling,

This is the first free time I've had since I got back to Base to write to you. We had an administrative inspection yesterday, and it was necessary for me to work day and night in order to get my records ready for it. I won't apologize for not writing, since you have said that you're not interested in my apologies. I can only say then, darling, that I regret most sincerely that it was quite impossible for me to do so. From the moment I got back ’til yesterday afternoon I was really rushed to death. I could have used another pair of hands and a lot more time. Happily, I managed to get a good bit of work done on the “Forms 20", and the inspection went off very well. The first thing I did on my return, naturally, was to pick up my mail. However, I couldn't take time out to read it ’til late that night. There were about 15 of your letters, one from Dot, a big, fat one from Jackie N., and 3 midget Bulletins. What a haul! You can imagine how impatient I was to get at them while I worked. I was conscious of the bundle of mail in my back pocket every minute, making it almost impossible for me to concentrate on what I was doing. Your letters covered a period from 12 May to 30 May, with only a few dates missing. I want you to know, Sweet, that I'm grateful for the consistency with which you are sending the mail along. I only feel badly that I am unable to do as well. You realize, of course, baby, that it is next to impossible for me to answer all your letters individually (not that I wouldn't love to), but we'll have to be content with some general remarks dealing with the things I want most to talk about — Your typewritten letter of 12 May, enclosed those pictures of the punkin and Diana and the family. I'll try to tell you just how they impressed me. To begin with, I think Adele never looked prettier. I've tried hard to remember when or where I ever saw a sweeter-looking little girl, and recalled only one prettier and one who was just in the same class. The former was Shirley Temple, the latter, Barbara.

Truly, Sweet, she is adorable in every way, and a daughter we may both be inordinately and justifiably proud of. I couldn't resist the urge to show the pictures to my buddies, and, to a man, they were of the opinion that a lovelier little girl would be very hard to find. Most of them were frankly envious, and puzzled that she could be so pretty and still bear so striking a resemblance to me. How do like that? - They were kidding, of course!?? What I wouldn't give to - oh, well - what's the use - you must know how I crave to hold that precious bundle - our Adele - Just as deeply as you, Sweet, do I regret that I am being cheated out of knowing her in these years of her babyhood, but I guess we have to pay in some manner for such a blessing. I feel that no sacrifice I could make for the future security of my beloved girls could be too great. That thought saves me much in the way of heartache, believe me. Still - God knows it's plenty hard to take with equanimity! (I'll never get done at this rate!) To continue, I want to say that Diana Jean is a very well-formed kid, and shows great promise of being a darkly beautiful girl some day. I think she bears a striking resemblance to brother Jack as a baby, and, yes, I do believe she resembles my father, may he rest in Peace! The table and chairs set is very nice, and solidly constructed. I imagine it's a great help in keeping the Strongin girls from roaming about the house too much. Altogether, it is a wonderfully edifying picture, and one of my favorites. The family picture is only a shade "flat"; but a very good picture nevertheless. Reading from left to right - You, my adored Evie, look not one whit different from the girl I remember, which means that to see you is to want to hold you and kiss you. Although your hair is, unfortunately, photographed against the dark background of Glo's dress, it is still easily distinguishable, and I don't remember that it ever looked better. Your adored face set in that well-remembered and heart-warming smile is just the face that I love so much - what more could I say? I'm not overly fond of that "cape-sleeve" you asked me about, but it's not entirely unattractive either. In a word, I like very much, indeed, the way you looked in this picture. I have only one fault to find - somehow, I always feel cheated when your legs don't show in a picture. Remember that, will you, baby? The punkin seems to be engrossed in something off to a side, but she is very sweet-looking in this one, too. Mom, bless her, looks younger than ever, in spite of the increasing (but attractive) gray in her hair. I believe I see your handwork in that coiffure, Ev, and very nice it is, too! Goldie appears to have lost some weight and looks very well. Diana Jean looks tinier and younger than in the other picture. Mickey, who was always a very pretty gal, for my money, looks better than ever, and her hair-do is most becoming. She drew some very flattering comment from the boys, it may please her to know. Yes, I noticed right away that Harry had put on still more weight. [Just between you and me, honey, I hope he doesn't lose any of it - I'll look that much slimmer by comparison]. Ruthie is as pretty as you said a long time ago she would one day be. Gloria looks the same as ever, though I suspect the picture doesn't flatter her. Too, she seems to have put on some weight - right?

Well, honey, it seems I've used up this evening just discussing the pictures. There are so many of your questions that will have to remain unanswered for the time being, that I feel a little guilty that I can't continue. Then, there is much that I would like to tell you about our 2d Anniversary party that started yesterday afternoon and is still continuing. But that, of necessity, will have to wait another opportunity, possibly when I next see you, and it begins to look that it may be some months yet, as we don't seem to be particularly "hot" at present. We haven't been told a thing yet, but I'm almost sure we'll go home before we go to the other theater, if we ever do, which, just between us, I don't believe we'll do. However, as I've said, they don't seem to be in any particular hurry to move us anyplace at the moment. I'll keep you posted, baby. Tomorrow, I'll try to answer some of your letters. I'm sending along a program. Ask about it some day, and I'll tell you things you'll find it difficult to believe - no kidding!

Good-night for now, my sweet ~ The more I see of other girls, the more I admire and love you. I kiss you now, my dearest Evie. A kiss for Adele. Love to all. 

Your adoring 

Phil

Post #670 - June 9, 1945 I Do So Hope That You Will Get Home Sometime During the Summer So That We Can Be Alone Together Before Fate Again Takes Over

 

June 9, 1945

Dearest Phil,

Am starting this at work and will continue on it at home. After this Saturday we will have only three more Saturdays to work. After July 4th we will work only five days a week. It will be a pleasure to have two whole days in which it will not be necessary to rush and watch the clock to be on time. There will also be a large cut in my pay, but it will be worth it to have some weekends to myself. We will start working on Saturdays again after Labor Day, so that only gives us nine weekends, to be exact.

I have to go to Lits and Gimbels to pay bills for my mother and then will go straight home. I'm not in a position to do any shopping this week as I will need the money for several things: I'm going to give Diana $5 for her first birthday, which will be June 14th, I owe Clara $7.20 for another bottle of 500 Combevita pills that I ordered and I owe Dot $7 for the two dresses I bought while out in West Philly.

The weather is beginning to warm up a bit, but at that, it's still very much like spring. In all probability we'll get a heat wave overnight. Did I tell you that both Mom and Goldie had vivid dreams that you came home? I’m sure they are right, because I feel it myself.

Back home again. Mom informs me that Ethel expects to take a bungalow in Browns Mills & she (Mom) will spend the summer there. If such is the case we will have the telephone temporarily disconnected & if perchance your should come home during the summer you will be able to call me at my mothers, the number (in case you had forgotten) is MIC 8207. In all probability that's how it will be. I will eat dinner at my mother's & Harry will eat out. I do so hope that you will get home sometime during the summer so that we can be alone together before fate again takes over. I love you so much, my darling, and here's a kiss from 

Your Eve

Post #669 - June 7, 8, 1945 Can You Imagine Receiving Mail Only Four Days Old from England!

 

June 7, 1945

My dearest Phil,

Last night I took Adele down to Geuting's for a pair of shoes. I got home from work early, had dinner, dressed Adele and left at 7:45. We arrived at Geuting's at 8:15, making good time on the C bus and the subway. Adele was as good as gold going down, but coming back we couldn't get a seat on the bus (good ole American courtesy, you know) and she became very, very cranky. If you don't mind, I'd like to buy a car after the war is over and drive it myself when you are not able to take me when I want to go. It burns me up!

At any rate, I was lucky enough to get a pair of shoes, (they had been out of stock on them for several weeks and the shoes I needed had arrived that very day). The salesgirl called a special man to fit the shoes & note the prescription. The man stated that Dr. Lefkoe's prescriptions are followed to a "t" as he (the doc) is very fussy & they think very highly of him saying that he's one of the best. Adele wears an 8D, & I was lucky enough to get white.

Today I was absolutely delighted to receive your letters of June 2 & 3 - can you imagine receiving mail only four days old from England! I’m glad you're in perfect health and I’ll take good care of those "emotional disturbances,” once given the opportunity. I'm equally glad that you will still get the furlough, for I realize what it means to you. Have a good time, sweet. By coincidence you mention buying a car. There isn’t a decent thing to be had nowadays, but you can be sure we'll get one when they are available & you are able to upkeep one. I feel better knowing that you are in perfect condition & I feel certain that the heartburn can be taken care of by a diet.

June 8, 1945

Hello, Baby, here I am again! When I had settled down to write, in walked Rae & I had dinner with her. By the time I bathed Adele, washed her hair, washed the clothes, cleaned her shoes, etc, etc. it was pretty late, so I spent the remainder of the evening knitting & talking to Rae. 

I made several calls. Snuff came in yesterday morning & I spoke with him awhile. He sounds good. They will be up next week some time. I had tried to reach Frances on several occasions, but to no avail. Yesterday I finally reached her. It happened to be her first day home from the hospital. Mike & Frances now have two daughters, Norma & Martha. Mike was promoted to first Sgt. & calls Frances from Panama each week, as he is permitted to put calls through. Frances gave birth on May 23. She was due May 7 &  had hoped to gain 12 additional points for Mike—but no dice; she was 11 days too late. She asked me to come out to see her & I shall do so in the near future.

Also called Dr. Lefkoe to make an appointment for Friday, June 15th at which time he will examine & fit her new shoes. Incidentally, including the $5 for the visit, Adele's new shoes will stand me $13 or more, for, I'm not sure of the charges for an additional correction. The doctor is taking away the heel correction (there was a 1⁄4” insert put in the heel) because he does not think that she needs it any longer, & the charge will be made to remove the correction.

The Browns will be here for dinner Sunday with Syd & Mom, Adele and I are going there next Sunday for dinner. The Browns are going to have all their New York relatives for visitors next Sunday & want us to be there. Syd has the required amount of points for a discharge (he has over 90) but is considered essential & will not be discharged.

The weather continues cool, although it warmed up quite a bit today. 

I'll have have to go " lovey” on you now for I'm just about "writ, out". Darling, there just aren't words to tell you just how much you mean to me and how anxious I am to see you soon. A hug & kiss, baby mine, from

Your ever lovin’
Eve

Post #668 - June 5, 6, 1945 I Knocked Out a Little Thing Called "The Love of Mike" (Sound Familiar?) in Two and a Half Hours Flat and The Food Shortage Has Not Affected Me At All

 

5 June 1945

My darling,

Don't know if you ever knew 'til now, but invariably, when I've done a lot of uninterrupted reading, I get the urge to write something of my own. On only two occasions, tho’, have I ever had the opportunity coincident with the urge. The first time was when I dashed off "ETOUSA Interlude". The second time was today, when I knocked out a little thing called "The Love of Mike" (sound familiar?) in two and a half hours flat. I think it's a much better idea than the one I had for the previous one for the same title. What pleased me most about this afternoon's work was that I didn't have to stop to think once from the first word to the last. Unlike "ETOUSA Interlude; the idea didn't hit me like a bolt from the blue. I was reading "Esquire" "when I suddenly got fed up with reading. So I put the magazine away, lay on my bunk, and thought out the story I wanted to write. This took about a half-hour. Then I picked up my pen, sat down at one of the two tables here in the ward, and wrote steadily ’til I finished. I don't know how you will like the bit (it's barely enough for a short short story), but when you've read it, I hope you won't consider it so much wasted time and effort - not that I had anything better to do, except, perhaps, to write a better story—However, I'm rather pleased with it. I think it moves right along, and the ending, in my opinion, is sufficiently "punchy" to please most people. I'm going back to base tomorrow, when I’ll try to find time enough to type it. When you've read it, honey, you can do as you like with it. Burn it, or save it, or submit it to Collier's or Satevepost if you if you think it's good enough. I've been wondering if “Esquire" might not take a more kindly view of the "Interlude.” I'd appreciate it, Sweet, if you'd make a copy and submit it to that mag. I’d be proud as hell if they accepted it. Let's try, huh? Maybe we'll get some constructive criticism. I love you. I love Adele. Hell, I love everybody! But especially you.

I am 

Your Phil



June 6, 1945

My Darling Hubby—

It is unbelievable, but a year has passed since that day of days—D Day. The future looks brighter and it is possible that next June 6th will see an end to all warfare. It must!

I was delighted to received three letters from you, sweet. They were yours of May 30, 31 and June 1. How's that for good time! Not bad at all. I always feel that you are closer to me when your mail is fairly recent. There is really very little in your letters that inspires any comment on my part. I’m indeed happy that someone is finally taking an interest in what makes you tick the funny way that you do and I hope that this time it is not all in vain. Imagine the cost of such a procedure in civilian life - whew! That is why I feel that you should stand some chance of securing a discharge if they cannot cure you of your constant indisposition. I'd like to have a chance to cure you of it myself, if they'd only see things our way.

Your letter of the 31st contained a paragraph about the G.I.'s that get on your nerves because of their conceit, etc. and you sometimes "despair for fine, free world of the future". Since I've been separated from you I've found that true of almost every single person I’ve met. People just don't seem to be as fine as they used to be and I'm terribly disappointed in most of them. There are too many of them and it worries me, too, at times.

The food shortage has not affected me at all. I eat much more than I ever did and I’m not quite as fussy as I used to be. I've cultivated a taste for vegetables that I never had and many other things that I used to detest. When I give Adele "one meat ball" I usually get her to sing the song. I hear Bing and Lauritz Melchior often and they are a sketch. I'd like nothing more than to join you at this very moment. I could use a rest like you're getting at the present time, and then some.

Harry went to the racetrack yesterday without saying a word to Goldie and was she hot when he walked in at 10:30 last night! I'm afraid she's going to have a lot of trouble with him now that the races are in again. He has become friendly with a crowd of "ginnies" (as Goldie calls them) and says he can make a little "fast" money. Harry such is a character at times!

I am writing this at work. You may wonder how I received your letters. Simple. I waited for the mailman this morning and was rewarded for my wait. It was rather late when I got Adele to sleep and I spent the remainder of the evening knitting on her sweater. I had a glass of milk with apple pie (both Moms spend the entire day at 4920 baking pies with apples my mother had bought) and the pies were deelicious, took a quick shower and hit the sack (to take a page out of your book) at 11:30. Guess you kinda know that I love you very much, honey, so much that - - -

Your Eve

Post #667 - June 4, 1945 I'll Just Keep Reporting on Sick Call Until Something Gives

 

4 June 1945

Dearest Evie,

Using V-mail tonight ’cause I ran out of Air Mail envelopes. But there isn’t much to report today, anyhow, so this form should suffice—Still at the Hospital, but I should be leaving tomorrow. When the Capt. made his rounds this morning and asked me how I was feeling, I told him O.K. except for the usual thing. He told the nurse to increase the doses of Amphojel this afternoon to 16cc. A nechtegen tug! [Yiddish meaning “nice try!” sarcastically] I might just as well have taken so much water for any effect it had! When the nurse came around later with more of the same, I refused to take it, telling her to tell the Capt, that it did me no good. It's a funny situation when the Army will concede that you are ailing, admit that there isn't anything concrete they can do about it, and just are content to let it go at that! Well, maybe they'd ignore it if it were up to them, but I've decided not to let them. These damned gas pains are making me miserable. Besides being actually painful at times, they make it almost impossible for me to keep mind on my work. I've never told you about this, honey, ’cause you have enough to worry about. I'm only telling you now so that you will understand any course of action I decide on. One thing I've determined to do - and that is to report on sick-call until they decide to give me some satisfaction. Capt. Brownlee has been very kind and sympathetic, but as far as doing anything constructive about my condition - he hasn't, hell - he admits there's nothing he can do. Where does that leave me? So—I'll just keep reporting on sick call until something gives. That's all. 

Just room enough left to tell you to be patient, honey. It must be as hard for you as it is for me, but there’s no point in knocking ourselves out - is there? I love you. A kiss for Adele. Love to all from 

Your Phil

P.S. Visited the dental clinic to get that molar X-rayed—it’s O.K. Had a small cavity filled. That's all—(I was going to make a cake but thought better of it—)

Post #666 - June 3, 1945 It's Not Wise… to Keep One's Soul Constantly Under the Observation of His Mind

3 June 1945

Evie, darling,

The results of all the tests, X-rays, etc. came back today, and I'm happy to say that they showed nothing. That is, as far as any organic defects are concerned, there just aren't any. Capt. Brownlee, who, as I have told you, is a specialist on digestive disorders and has made intensive studies of hundreds of cases had me in his office just now for a private confab. He explained fully just what my trouble is, and I'm convinced his theory is the correct one. He says that the heartburn is of little moment, that it will never lead to anything more serious, and that my constant use of baking soda cannot possibly harm me in any way. What does concern him is these gas pains that I'am afflicted with. He took a great deal of time to explain most minutely that the fault is entirely functional, i.e., there is nothing whatever wrong with my digestive organs, but that something is causing them to renege on their job, and that something, he says, is my emotional reflexes. All this he told me before he drew practically my whole life's history out of me. When he had finished questioning me about my background, my job, my family and my attitude toward everything in general and the Army in particular, he was convinced that his diagnosis is the correct one. Unfortunately, there is no cure for what ails me but one, and he was frank and honest enough to admit it. I, in turn, told him equally frankly, that I had not the slightest interest in anything but getting home to my family - that the desire to do so was so strong that it amounted to an obsession. And that, according to the Capt. is the very root of the trouble. That is what is disturbing my digestive processes to the point where the retarding of digestion is causing me acute physical discomfort. The only cure, he says, if I can't rid myself of this obsession, or lessen its intensity some way, can only be effected by removing the cause of my mental unrest, namely, to send me home to the family I crave to be with! Again unfortunately, he can't do that either, since there is no organic fault to justify it. He sincerely regretted that the Army Medical corps doesn't consider indigestion caused by emotional or spiritual or mental stimuli sufficient cause for discharging a man, although, ironically, it is the most difficult to cure in the Army. We must have discussed my case for an hour or more and I could see that the Capt, appreciated everything I was telling him. He told me a little later that he is in pretty much the same boat himself (he's very young), that he, too, can hardly think of anything else because of his desire to be with his wife, and that he, too, spends most of his evenings at the movies in order to “get away from himself.” So, the upshot of it all was that he understands and sympathizes and hopes, for my sake, that my unit will be going home soon, but he is powerless to do anything about it. I thanked him most sincerely for the interest he had taken in my case, and for his well-wishes, and that was the end of that! I think I'll be going back to base tomorrow.

This afternoon after lunch I had one of the guys take two snaps of me in my hospital attire of pajamas and robe. Then I went down to the Receiving Office where there is a public phone and called my Orderly Room. Sgt. Fox answered the phone. When we had disposed of the amenities I asked him what was new - if anything had been said or done about moving. No—nothing at all. There are plenty rumors (everything from Air Force of Occupation to shipping directly to the Pacific or going home - take your pick), but nothing had been given out officially, and nobody knows anything about anything. So things are still pretty much as I left them back at base. Did I tell you I was due to go on furlough on 1 June? Well, I asked Sgt. Fox if my little stay in the hospital would affect it. He didn't seem to think it would. I think I'll get it O.K., in which case I’ll call the Davies' to tell them to expect me.

Well, honey, I'm glad I'm able to reassure you as to my physical condition. As for my state of mind - I can only repeat what I told the Capt. - I have no direct jurisdiction over my desires - I can't help wanting with all my being the things that are dearest to me. But I can and will make every effort to exclude that desire to be home with you from my conscious thoughts as far as I'm able. It's not wise, Chippie, as you must realize, to keep one's soul constantly under the observation of his mind, if you follow me. I must try to rid myself of that tendency - (I only wish I knew how) ~

That just about winds me up for tonight, darling. Be of good hope that we shall see each other soon - I feel that we will, I really do ~

Kiss my precious punkin for me. I love you, Ev, baby ~ My love to all.

Ever,
Your Phil

P.S. It occurred to me today that I haven't answered all my correspondents - there's still Seymour and Ed and Harry W. and Ruthie. Don't know when I’ll get around to it, but I'll keep them in mind just case I do get the opportunity to write. Tell Ruthie I haven't forgotten I promised her an 8th Air Force pin - I'll get around to it one of these days. While you're at it, Sweet, will you remind your Mom that she hasn't written to me in months, and I remember I answered her last letter. Tell her I want much to hear from her. I like the way she writes about Adele. S'long now, honey.