I intend to post almost daily, and in roughly chronological order, the thousands of pages of daily love letters that my parents sent to each other during WWII and any other documents that pertain to these letters..
The weather can't seem to make up its mind today. It has rained ten times already, and in between times the sun has been shining. Right now it is raining again. I cleaned up what work there was this morning, and don't have a solitary thing to do this afternoon - except type this letter to you.
Your letter of 16 Sep was on my desk when I came back to the Orderly Room after lunch. There isn't much that requires comment, though. I'm happy to learn that Yale came through his operation O.K., and that Syd Brown is a civilian by now. I was wondering a little while ago how many points our Jack has now. Since the WD has announced that the number of points will be the determining factor in all future shipments home and for demobilization, we might do well to check up on how many points each of "our" boys have. I'd like to know how many Puffy and Limey have, too.
I'm going to institute a policy today—that of including the latest dope on shipping and demobilization according to the Stars & Stripes. This should give you a pretty good idea as to when you might expect me. You know, of course, that I have 77 points.
Too bad you're having such a time finding a snow-suit for the punkin. You say something about shopping for it in New York, I think that is a "smashing" idea! But I'm afraid that she'll need it before the time for meeting in New York arrives. Incidentally, Sweet, in case you didn't know it before, I will be separated from the service at Ft. Dix. It may work out that I won't be able to meet you in New York after all, but there is a chance that I will. The picture is too indefinite right now to say for sure where we will hold that long-awaited reunion, but you may depend on it I will get in touch with you at the earliest possible instant, and wherever we meet, it will be just too wonderful for words. I must warn you now not to be disappointed if I fail to let you come to me at once, because I still feel that I don't want to see you until I am free to be with you for at least a number of days. I simply could not bear to see you for a little while and then separate again (you remember how it was at Ft. Dix). You understand, Chippie, why I don't want to go through that ordeal again! Do you remember how I almost took Klein up on his offer to let us "use" the jeep? He still kids me about it. No, thank you—I'll take a nice, cozy hotel room some place—nor will I consider meeting you until conditions are such that we can be alone. You'll probably think that I'm pretty awful for thinking this way, Chippie - that "that" is all I think about. But that's not exactly the truth, baby. It's just that that is one of the things I will be thinking about when I have you close to me, and I know how maddening it can be to be prevented by circumstances.
Does it strike you, honey, that in my most recent letters I can hardly talk about anything but my homecoming? To be perfectly frank, I rarely think of anything else these days. Everything we're doing in the Orderly Room these days is toward the end of getting the boys home and out of the Army, and just the thought of it is enough to cause an air of excitement. When I think how I used to look forward to the days we are now experiencing - ! The one topic of conversation is "the Next Shipping List". It seems that's all we're living for these days.
One thing I do regret, though, darling, is that I got you all excited prematurely. I'll try to keep my natural optimism more in check from now on. I do hope the let-down wasn't too severe, baby.
Was glad to read in your letter that Harry is looking for a place for his family. How's about giving him a lift in his search? Your mother should be able to help in this direction - if I remember correctly she has a knack for that sort of thing. I won't pretend, Chippie, that my motives here are anything but selfish. You will understand from my last few letters that I am most anxious to come back to a home occupied only by you and the punkin and Mom. Your failure to accomplish this would be the only thing that would, in some measure, keep my homecoming from being the perfectly glorious experience I have envisaged. - But there I go again! Just can't seem to keep off the subject.
Time to quit now, Sweet, and just space enough left to tell you yet again that I adore you. Best love to Adele and all the family.
Couldn't write last night because we worked ’til 10:30 getting the records of 54 more men ready for transfer. This time, I was one of the men transferring. I will be one of a "holding party" of some 75 or 80 men and Officers, who will "ship" all the other men off the base, and hand the field back to the British. That is, that is the way things shape up now, but things in general, and the point system in particular, are in such a god-awful mess, that almost anything can happen. Right now, I'm keeping my fingers crossed and waiting developments. I can't conceive, Chippie, how they can possibly hold me much longer than November. I'm still confident that that is the very latest date I'll ship home. In any event, barring further misadventure, I'll be with you to help celebrate the punkin's 3rd birthday—that's a promise! And, if a certain "break" materializes, I may make it in October yet!
Your longie of 11 Sep., containing the key, arrived today. Being something of a sentimentalist, I got a great kick out of it. Thanks, baby—let's hope I get to use it before too many more weeks have passed—
Sorry to learn about the punkin's fall. It gave me a queer twinge just reading about it. I wonder how I would have reacted had I been there to see it? Hope she wasn't hurt too badly—
You're wrong, Chippie, in your guess that I “never gave it a second thought"—about your being unwell when I arrive, I mean. Hell, the single guys are always kidding us married men about it. They want to know what we'll do in case the wife greets us with a “patriotic welcome" (waving the flag). Some husbands make no bones about it—they'll ignore the "red flag"! Me, I like to think I have will power enough to desist, but I think you know from past experience, Chippie, that there are times when I just can't take no for an answer. However, we shall see what we shall see—As to our having to start, all over again—I can only say “good!” It was fun (for me, anyway) the first time, and it will be even more fun this time, I know. I can't help feeling, though, that it won't be nearly as difficult this time—In this connection, honey, I was wondering if it wouldn't be wise to have yourself fitted with a diaphragm, unless that is impossible in your present “virgin” state. I hate the thought of going back to the "skin" contraceptives we used to use. The only reason I never insisted on it at the time was that I couldn't bear the thought of a male doctor fooling around you, and that you expressed a distaste for the diaphragm. I wish, Chippie, that you would talk to Lena and get Dr. Taylor's address (she's a woman), and see what might be done in that direction. I'd appreciate it if you'd give the diaphragm a trial. Perhaps you'll get over your aversion to it—who knows? Remember, though—no one but Dr. Taylor must touch you—for my sake. Maybe, baby, you'd like to dispense with contraceptives altogether? Remember how glorious it was when we didn't have to “worry"? Sorry, honey, that slipped out—just wishful thinking on my part. Yours shall always be the last word—you know that, don't you, Sweet?
Was happy to learn that you picked up a coupla pounds, but believe me, darling, you couldn't be lovelier than I remember you at 118 pounds. Did I lose any part of my "yen” for you when you were ailing and went down to 113 pounds? I don believe I did. You were always delectable in my eyes, a few pounds more or less notwithstanding. It may interest you to know that I have scrutinized some hundreds of pin-up girls these past 25 months, but I have still to see one that appeals more than the picture of you that I carry in my memory. You were always the most adorable and sexciting girl I ever saw—and you still are, believe me! Remember how Lucifer used to stand to attention whenever I watched you undress? Well, the mere remembering is still enough to make him “rise to the occasion". Am I embarrassing you now, darling? You say you want to be "bad" again—For your sake, baby, I hope you mean that because I'm going to hold you to that—and how!
You said in a recent letter that you intend to "wear me down and wear it (weight) off". That—I would like to see! We’ll see who will say "good night" first!—Just got a swell idea! Let's set the alarm for 3 A.M., then 6 A.M., and each time we'll see if we are equal to a "session". How's that for an inspiration? How come we never tried it before? Do think I'm being silly, Chippie? Maybe so, but at the moment I can't imagine what could possibly induce me to let you get out of bed for at least week after I get into you into bed with me again! (Lady, am I in a "state" right now!) Have you told the family that I’ll almost certainly be home within the next six or seven weeks? You might ask H + G to make a real effort to find a place for themselves 'cause I don't think my nerves will stand up to too much commotion around the house once I return. I'll crave a lot of peace and quiet when I come home, and I'll do anything rather than have to live in a hubbub of crying babies, domestic arguments, squabbles, etc. Please, darling, do your utmost to impress on H + G that they must find their place before I return. I have no fears about Adele's capacity for getting on my nerves—I'm sure I know how to handle her—now that she's old enough to understand whatever I might say to her, but if I have to listen to Diana's crying and Harry's and Goldie's bickering—or even small talk, I know I shall be strongly tempted to move "us" out and let them have the place to themselves. When you wrote in a recent letter about our having to live together for a few months, I shuddered at the thought, and realized for the first time how distasteful the prospect is to me. I don't have anything against H + G—don't misunderstand me, it's just that I don't want to live in a house full of people and I won't, if I have to get a room at the Y.M.C.A.! I think that H + G must be just as anxious for a place of their own as we are, darling, so won't you tell them that now is the time to do something about it? There's another reason—one you mentioned yourself not long ago. Once I am home again, it will be imperative that Adele has a room of her own. I don't rightly see how we can manage otherwise. The time may seem to drag, honey, but believe me—there isn't to time to spare now—It pleased me no end that Gloria "raved" about "Mike" (are you sure you're not exaggerating?), because I value her opinion highly in this case. But, I was surprised to learn that you haven't submitted it yet. It's not like you, Chippie, to let the grass grow under your feet—As it is, I'm afraid you've "missed the bus". No publisher would have it now, as its greatest value was its "timeliness." Note I said "was"—However, don’t feel badly about it, ’cause there are plenty more (and better ones) where that came from.—Which reminds me—Thank Bob for his kind offer to introduce “my song.” I appreciate his good intentions, but I'm afraid the song itself will have to wait until I have the time and facilities for composition available~
And now--it's way past my bed time, so I must conclude my writing, for the time being, with all my love to you and Adele, and the fervent hope that the need for letter-writing between us shall exist no longer than a few more weeks. Take a fresh hold on your patience, my darling. Try to accomplish what I have asked of you, and be secure in the conviction that I am
Ever Your adoring Phil
P.S. My new mailing address: Cpl. Phil Strongin—33051975 3d MR & R Sq AAF Sta F-157, APO 559, c/o P.M. New York
(The MR + R Sq is not the "Rest and Recuperation" as you might suppose, but Mobile Repairs & Reclamation Sq—get it?)
Sept. 19, 1945
Dear Phil and Evyie,
(Don’t puzzle the spelling Ev, leave it for Phil)
It was grand hearing from both of you. It’s rather strange, the difference in wording in your letters telling me about the same thing. Yours, Phil, is typically and iffily G.I. about your return. Ev’s, poor civilian, is sure and positive to say nothing of certain. I don’t want to put a damper on things, but, even though everything that you, Phil, relate points towards excellent possibilities—oh hell—You will be home by Christmas. I might even be there to welcome you with my wife helping me. (I know it seems strange, but that’s what I said exactly, my wife. It’s a wonderful feeling.)
We’re doing swell and wondering how in hell we spend so much money with so very few places to spend it, except for a lamp, a blanket, a dress, a suit, etc.
Gee we got a complete serving for six from Marjorie’s Mom and Dad for a wedding gift. It’s the Old Lace pattern of Towle silver. It’s beautiful. We used it Sunday with steak and stuff and angel food cake. Marge is a swell cook and amazes me.
Phil, I’m sorry I neglected your previous letter, but I’ve been in a whirl, honestly. I bit off a big hunk to handle out here and there’s lots of doing involved, almost too much for an ex G.I. just out of the lazy hospital life. Things are panning out nicely now, though, and I’m pretty well set.
I know it’s very late for the doing, but please accept my apologies and grant me forgiveness for that night I separated you two by taking Phil on a business jaunt. I can well see my error, now that I too have a real sweetheart.
Do you like the pictures? Marjorie was a bit ill at ease, writing to you Phil. It was a little hard, I guess, for her “stranger” feeling.
I really do hope to be back East by Christmas. I believe I can finish this job by then in time for that. Some people who don’t know how to typewrite can get around to getting home easily. Hell though, Phil, you’re doing a job and have done one that has helped in making this a grand and glorious place to return to. So, chin up, old boy, and your turn will come for giving up desire by fulfillment.
I learned yesterday that the earliest date I can be operated on again by Dr. Lempert will be June 5, 1946. It’s rather disappointing, but hell I’m here and healthy so I can’t kick. At that time he supposedly will thin a tissue that’s too thick and not able to vibrate or cause to vibrate the stopple it covers in the new hearing opening that he has already made.
Gee, every time I write to you my whole being tingles with lonesomeness and at the same time an inner happiness because such as you, are such as I am privileged to count as friends, and people to once again come close to in a future, that were it even tomorrow to become the present that found us together, would still be too far distant to please my desire. Gosh, how I want to see you all again, every one of you, to say nothing of the one who has changed the most, the Little Princess.
Well, kids, that’s all there is for now ’cause sleep time approaches. Gosh how sleep time has changed.
My love to you all, and to you, Phil, my deepest and heartfelt wish for a speedy and safe return.
I've been sitting here for ten minutes or more wondering how to tell you what I have to tell you tonight—It isn't going to be easy to take, baby, so brace yourself for a bit of bad news. Ready? O.K. then—In the simplest terms I can muster, I’ll tell you what happened today. Remember last night I told you that only those men with 70 points or more would ship home as the 866 Engr. Sq. 440 Air Sv. Gp.? Well, we were all led to believe that it meant 70 points as of VJ day. How could we even suspect that it meant VE day, since there are only 9 men in the entire squadron with 70 or more points VE? Still, that is what I learned today. The irony of it is almost killing me—me with just 3 days service less than enough to give me those magic 70 points! The program now is this: The 9 men now in the squadron with the necessary points will be supplemented by some 210 more lucky guys, the "combat" men who have just a little more than 2 years total service with perhaps a year to 18 months overseas service—and the six "battle participation stars" (yes, those again!) that give them 30 points and a pass home! And they are the guys who will go home in October as the 866th Air Engr Sq! Do you wonder that I am just squirming in futile rage at the injustice of it? Now what? I wish I knew, Chippie. Right now I feel like the whole U.S. Army has walked on me, and my mind refuses to accept the possibility that I may be stuck here with all the others in my unfortunate circumstances for 2-3-4 months more, yet that, in all probability, will be theway it will be. It breaks my heart, after reading your cheery V-mail of 9 Sep, which closes with “Soon—I know," to have to tell you this, especially after the way I've built up your hopes in my recent letters, You say that you've been watching the shipping lists. Well, if you should see the 866th mentioned, you can just think to yourself that, in all justice, it should mean that me and all my buddies that have “sweated it out" from 25 to 27 months are coming home, but you will know that it isn't us at all, but 200 other guys, who have far less right to be on that shipment. I'm so disgusted and blue tonight, honey, that I'm not fit company for a dog. My heart is heavy as lead within me. I'm so riled up about this latest screwing we are taking, that I'm almost beside myself. Another thing—Hq knew the plan two weeks ago, and they knew full well that all the guys were figuring the basis of their VJ points—why shouldn't they? But they just let us think so. Why? Because they knew darned well that the guys would have croaked before they'd pack our equipment for some other guys to take home!—And that's only part of it! I could tell you many similar instances, but what's the use? Please, darling, don't think me a cry-baby and a weakling for airing my grievances this way. I just have to get them off my chest or bust. Don't think I'm alone my recriminations, either, ’cause right now in this hut there are four guys blowing their tops over this latest outrage. Honestly, honey, it is enough to make a strong man cry!—The hell of it is—we have no voice to protest with—we are soldiers, and right now that is synonymous with slaves. We are abused, maltreated, and ignored—and there isn't a goddamn thing we can do about it. It's no damned wonder that a great majority of soldiers discharged with CDD's were “psychoneurotics”! Frustration is almost constantly our chief emotion, and the discharge lists prove how dangerous it is to men's minds.
Sorry, honey, if my news has saddened you, but you know it isn't my doing—It wouldn't affect me nearly as much, either, if I didn't know how anxiously you and the punkin are awaiting my return—
Kiss the punkin for me, Sweet, and tell her that daddy is looking forward to the day when she will lay in bed between him and Mommy—but only in the morning! My everlasting love to you, my darling Evie. Love to all.
As you see, we are on holiday in London, and your letter reached us here. Many thanks for it. We are indeed most sorry that we shall not have the pleasure of welcoming you to our home once again, but for you the welcome in your home will transcend all else, & we hope for your sake it will be soon.
We look forward some day to seeing you in your own country, the country that lies side by side with England in our hearts. We will have much pleasure in accepting your kind invitation. And so Philip as you say, au revoir, a thousand blessings on you and your family. I know you will be an ambassador for the old country when you return home, and will look on our failings with tolerance and on our achievements with pride for having shared them with us. Again all our good wishes.
Just finished talking to Sgt. Murphy, who had some more edifying news to impart. His commanding Officer, Capt. Ervin, told him today that we are moving to POE between 1-10 October, and will be on our way home shortly thereafter. Do you grasp that, baby? It means that I'll be home by Mid-October—about five weeks from today and less than a month from the time you receive this. What I'm looking for now, is for the critical score to drop to 75 points, so that my 77 points will automatically send me to separation center for discharge, so that I can meet you again as a civilian. I'm pretty sure that the score will drop about the end of this month, and that I'll be a civilian when the time comes for our big reunion. I hope, darling, that you have given Mr. Bellet your notice, ’cause I wouldn't find at easy to forgive you if you let your job keep us apart for even a single day. - Which reminds me that you said something in one of your more recent letters to the effect that my intention of going to school is “another reason” you want to hang onto your job. There must be a letter missing—one I haven't received yet, but I'm telling you now, my Sweet, that if you offered any argument about giving your boss to understand that as of the day I come home, after I told you in no uncertain terms what I expected of you, well, a bawling out is a mild term for what I'll hand you "Nuff said?
6 Sep 1945
Evie Darling,
Sgt. Murphy came in to ask me if I were going to the movies to see “Can’t Help Singing.” I had forgotten it was playing last night until he reminded me, and because this was one I didn't want to miss, I thought you wouldn't mind too much if I interrupted this letter. Deanna Durbin was beautiful and in lovely voice, the technicolor photography, in itself, was enough to make the picture worthwhile, and while the plot and action were on the "thin" side, it was altogether a picture to thrill the eyes and ears of anyone who appreciates beauty. Deanna Durbin's rendition of “More and More” is a never-to-be-forgotten experience. The music, by Jerome Kern, is his best effort in years. Don't miss this one honey!
Today, gray and cool, was another day of "processing". We ran thru Hq, Sq and our own Sq (866) during the course of it. Tomorrow we'll tend to the 690th Material Sq and Hq 353d Fighter Group, and we'll be finished—probably by lunch-time. Maybe, if I’m lucky, I'll be able to take off this week-end. If I can, I’ll go into Colchester to say so-long to Bert and Evelyn and Nigel and to the Marks.
Today, too, there was a good deal of moving from one hut to another.The squadron has shrunk to less than half its original size, so we emptied some of the barracks, the personnel moving into the vacant places left in the others. I was placed in a hut with eight guys whom I know only slightly. However, because I work in the Orderly Room, they all know me, so it won't be too long before we're well acquainted. Besides, there is a radio here, and that's no small consolation!
Slowly but surely, we are “retrenching". The other day we turned our "tin" helmets, gas-masks and guns in to Supply. Today we got rid of our pup-tents, pins, poles, etc., leggings and wool-knit hat. What's more, we had to empty our foot-lockers to make them available for packing purposes. We are now, in Army parlance, “living out of our barracks bags." But no one seems to mind, 'cause it is all part of getting ready to go home. There is much hustle and bustle about getting rid of accumulated junk, sending stuff home, etc., etc., and in spite of the fact that the guys are cynical and skeptical about ever getting out of here—there is an unmistakable air of expectancy and suppressed excitement all over the place. These boys have been in the Army too long to build up their hopes and emotions about anything, and to hear them talk, an outsider would get the impression that they'd bet their lives they’ll still be here come next summer, but while they talk and deprecate and indulge in the most pessimistic opinions, they are busily and earnestly packing. Watching and listening, I have to smile. But there is something sad about them, too. The poor guys are so afraid to hope, or even to give their buddies an inkling that they are hoping (in spite of all past disappointments and disillusionments) that they talk constantly about what is not apt to happen as if those things must eventually transpire. One would never guess, from their actions and talk, that they are even remotely concerned with getting home—indeed, they mention home only rarely. But I know that each and every one of us is obsessed with a single idea—to get home to our loved ones at the earliest possible moment. One must live with these men to understand the fervency, the burning impatience and eagerness of that desire. Believe me, honey, when I say that each and every one of us has known enough of loneliness and heartache and frustration to last us our life-times. Do you remember, Chippie, how perfectly contented I was just to be home after I came out of Infantry? How I savored and enjoyed two-fold every commonplace pleasure that fell to my lot in that year? Well, that is pretty nearly what will be the state-of-mind of practically every G.I. returning to civilian life. How they'll love it!
There hasn't been any fresh mail these past two days, Sweet, and because I am just about “writ out” and it's time to hit the hay, anyway, I'll sign off now.—No, one more thing—I got to imagining today how Adele will look when I see her again—(a little blonde English girl started this train of thought); and it occurred to me that you haven’t told me anything about her legs these past few months. Are they perfectly O.K. now, or is there still something to be desired?
And, of course, my usual heart-felt expression of love and adoration for you, my darling Evie. God grant that the early re-union I am now counting on is not delayed for any reason. I'm literally counting the minutes 'til you are once again in the loving arms of
There's a USO show tonight in about an hour, and I want to see it, so I'm writing this in the interval. We had the heaviest rain-storm since we’ve been here last night and this morning. The noise the falling rain made on the metal outsides of our Nissen huts was almost deafening. Shortly after lunch the skies cleared, and the weather has been perfect since. We didn't start processing ’til 1:00 P.M., when we began with the 351st Fighter Sqdn. The last man went through the line at 3:50 P. M., when we were through for the day. It ismonotonous, tiring work and when I got back to my hut (walking—my bike has a flat tire) I felt the need of a nap. I awoke at 6 P.M. This morning I was kept busy in the Orderly Room with Soldiers Deposits, PTT's, etc.
FLASH! Sgt. Murphy just walked in with the news that we are slated to leave this station 30 September—possibly to a POE! This is not a rumor! He received a letter from HQ 3d Air Division this afternoon setting forth the dates when each Group is scheduled to leave. The 440th Air Service Group is scheduled to leave 30 September. What do you think of that, Chippie? I'm all excited about the news—so much so, that I don't think I'll bother to go the USO show after all. It looks now like your present hunch that I’ll be home within six to eight weeks may be the correct one. Gee, Ev, do you suppose that in a matter of four or five weeks from now—??
Your V-mail of 28 Aug was lying on my bunk waiting for me when I walked in this afternoon—and mighty good it looked, too! On reading the very first sentence, I thought to myself "Now that's service! Last night I asked you to please write to the Davieses. Today I get a letter saying you have done so! Thanks a million, honey, I knew you wouldn't let me down!—Reminds me that I forgot to mention that I got off a longie to Jack N. a few nights ago. You were about to go to the Broad with Em to see “Diamond Horseshoe.” I'll bet that brought some pleasant memories, huh? Very glad to hear that Eddie S. is back home. The best news contained in your letter, tho’, is the information that Adele was a very good girl that night. The next time she shows a tendency to be unmanageable, tell her for me that if she promises to be a good girl until I come home and keeps her promise, that I will get her a real, live puppy for her very own shortly after I return. (I've been contemplating it anyway, and if at all possible, I'll bring the pup with me—that is if you have no objection, honey)! Please advise.
But I’m so full of the good news—it's so wonderful to know something definite after two years of uncertainty—that I hardly have the patience to continue writing on. I can almost taste your lips, your throat, that "certain spot" behind your knees, the smell of your hair, your “baby” fragrance and—and—well, you know—all the things that I love about you. C’mon sumpin’!!
Forgive me if I seem over-wrought, darling, and if I must cut this short because I'm too “on edge” to continue.
It has been a long, maddening wait, so you can understand what this news means to me. I guess you'll feel pretty much the same when you read this, darling—
Keep your fingers crossed, sweetheart, and pray that it will be the POE we're going to at the end of this month—I adore you, my sweet—you'll find out how much just as soon as I get close enough to you to demonstrate—that's a promise—so you'd better count on it and act accordingly. I think it would be very considerate and clever of you if you could arrange to come to New York alone as soon as I call you from there, which will be only when I am free to be with you and to go home with you the following evening. Yes, I think that would be best. But right now I’m just brim-full of all sorts of ideas, so if it doesn't sound practical to you—forget it! However, I do think it would be wonderful that way, don’t you, baby? Oh, to hold you in my arms once again!
My dearest love to the punkin and all. Here's a coupla thousand kisses, Chippie, to hold you until—
Your Phil
Sept. 4, 1945
Dear Evelyn:
I have received quite a few of your letters since I wrote you last, which I know myself was quite some time ago, but I’m sure you will forgive me, as I just would not write many letters while we were on the move so much. I am feeling fine, & hope this letter finds you all the same. The mail have been rather slow coming in the past few days, but maybe it will pick up soon. It sure was a happy day for us when this war ended, & I can’t explain how we felt myself in writing. Since the war ended we moved again, but we are still somewhere on the same Island, (Mindanao). I also can’t say too much about the type of work we are doing now, but I can say, though, that we are collecting up all of the Jap prisoners that are turning in to us here. They still censor our mail but maybe soon we will be able to write what we please. The quicker these Japs turn in the sooner we will get back somewhere and set up in a good area, instead of out here in these jungles. We can’t complain too much, though, for we are having it pretty easy for the present time. Another fellow and myself live in a small tent, & we have plenty of room to ourselves. We have cots to sleep on, & we have shelves built over them to put our clothes, & equipment on. I sent home a Jap flag yesterday that I got off a Jap Officer before the war ended, & it sure makes a nice souvenir. The folks will show it to you when they receive it. We are eating a little better now & we had fresh eggs twice since we have been here. There surely is no reason why we should not be eating good now. Well, Evelyn, that about winds up the news for now. Give my regards to all, & I’ll write again soon.
Couldn't write last night because we worked til 11 P.M. completing the records of 37 more of our men who are shipping out. This leaves us only 82 men out of a squadron that numbered 219 on activation on 18 April '45. These fellows have from 45 to 59 points, and it looks like they are scheduled to replace high-point men in the states, who are being discharged. All we have left now, but for a few exceptions, are men with ASR scores of 60 to 74 points, who are under the critical score necessary to qualify for discharge, but who will be eligible shortly. Today we heard on the radio that we will add on 8 points (from VE to VJ), that the critical score is now 80 points, and that men over 35 years of age will be discharged. The added points will run my score up to 77, still three short, but I'm not worrying, 'cause I know the score will be dropping swiftly from now on. It must, if they expect to get great numbers of men out of the Army. In short, I'm positive now that I'll be heading straight for the separation center when I step off the gang-plank. What's more, Sweet, you will be happy to learn, I think, that things are really beginning to hum around here. We are bending every effort to get our planes, trucks, tools and all our equipment turned in to the depots, and everyone is packing feverishly, because we are losing personnel so fast that very soon we won’t have anyone left to do the packing. For the same reason, while we still have clerks enough to do the job, we are starting tomorrow to process the records of every man on the station. We figure it will take about four days to accomplish this. Nine of us will be working on a “production line" basis, like we did in May. Although we haven't been told anything definite, almost everyone is convinced we will be off this station some time this month. However, the same guys who insist this is the straight dope won't venture to say whether we will be going straight to POE from here, or whether we'll “sweat out” a ship at some other base. I'm rather inclined to think that the latter is the more probable. But I can't help getting the impression from the way things are happening that those of us who are left will be homeward-bound some time in October. How does that suit you, honey? It suits me fine, ’cause then I would certainly be out of the Army in plenty of time for the punkin's birthday. That, incidentally, is what I am hoping for right now. I know you are hoping that, too, baby.–So much for the way the sityayshunnow stands—
Before I go about answering your “longie” of 25 Aug and your V-mail of 27 Aug., both of which arrived today, I wanted to answer your query of a few weeks ago, which it just occurred to me today I had failed to do. It concerns your question about buying a watch for you thru our PX. Sorry, honey, but they just don't have that item. Maybe they have it in the PX's in the States. If so, we'll see what we can do when I get back. As for the watch I ordered, it hasn't come in yet, and I'm very much afraid I've "had it” as far as a watch is concerned. Frankly, I'm not going to feel too badly about it, ’cause I still find myself reluctant to lay out $30.00 for something that isn't a necessity—even if it does mean “saving" $30.00 in the long run. Either way, I won't have any regrets.
Now for your letters - I could write another “longie” about the way you answered my protest about my added weight. But I am weary to death of the subject, so I will just answer two of your statements as briefly as I know how: (1) "Phil, do my feelings mean nothing to you?" You must know the answer, but since you choose to ask ambiguous questions - Yes, they mean everythingto me - that's why you wound me so when they are against me! (2) "You shouldn't really take such exception with me right now because I can't see for myself.” Now, that's downright unreasonable, Chippie! The obvious retort, of course, is - why do you criticize beforeyouseeme? Perhaps, as you yourself admit, I won’t be quite as repulsive as Eddie and Harry have led you to believe. - (I could shoot them both for starting all this). At any rate, let this be the end of it - we shall see what we shall see—
Sorry the front door key isn't “working,” but send it along anyhow, will you, Sweet? It'll fulfill a long-cherished hope—You understand—
It was sweet of you, baby, to take the time and trouble to make out that list of clothes I'll need, but you're way off the beam, if you think I'm going to spend that kind of money on my wardrobe, even over a period of time. What, for instance, would I do with 18 pairs of socks, or 12 pairs of underwear, or 18 hankies (I've got 25 right now)? And what makes you think I'd ever spend $50.00 for a “dress coat" - I presume you mean a top-coat? Or $24.00 for 3 sport shirts (whatever they are). On the other hand, I still think I'll need another hat (for wear during the week), if I'm to save that "good-looking” hat for going out on week-ends. (Can you imagine the kick I get out of just discussing this, Chippie?) The prices I quotedwere, of course, pre-war, and I still think that by the time we go shopping, I'll be able to get all the items I mentioned at the prices I quoted. Altogether, Chippie, I still think my list is the more practical one, as I'll one day prove to you. I'm saving both lists against that day. One thing more - I was grateful for your generosity, honey - even tho’ it was misplaced.
You start your letter of 27 Aug by reminding me of another 27 Aug (was it really six years ago? (not hence?). Of course I remember it! I even remember how I almost made a hole where there wasn't any - if’n you know what I mean! Was it that night (afterwards) that I got into your panties for the first time? Do you know I still often wonder if you enjoyed the first few times, or if it were more pain than pleasure for you? And if it were the latter, why you submitted? Would you care to enlighten me baby? I still thrill at the mere memory of those glorious nights when your girlish charms put me all on fire, and you so generously satisfied my every desire. I hope, my darling, that it was every bit as wonderful for you, - that you, too, can still thrill to the memory of precious days and nights and all that followed - that you are looking forward to the resumption of our sexual relations with the same consuming eagerness and impatience that I am feeling with increasing intensity as the day draws nearer—
Sorry to hear of Yale's recurring pleurisy. I do hope he pulls through O.K. Keep me posted, will you, Sweet?
I always knew that Bob would make a name for himself if he could overcome his backwardness about singing in public. What's all this about his going to Hollywood? Has he had an offer? Your suggestion about writing a "hit tune" (flatterer!) was duly noted, and, given the opportunity I might take a whack at it, but I don't expect the opportunity to present itself for some time yet. However - remind me some time, honey - remind me—By the way, did you ever submit either of my manuscripts? And did you order that two-year subscription for Mrs. Davies? If you haven't, I wish you would tend to it right away, baby. I'll reimburse you just as soon as you inform me that you have taken care of it. And please, pretty please, won't you try to write to them soon?
Well, sweetheart, I've been writing more than two hours, and I'm pretty tired, and it's almost time for lights out, you'll excuse me, I know, if I conclude this now.
How's my daughter these days? You barely mentioned her in your last three letters. Give her a big hug and kiss for daddy. I'll give you the same for hubby. I want you very, very much my little "buckaroo" (look, I can't even spell it !) I adore you, my Evie—Give my love to all.—And be very sure that you will soon have all of
