Post #9 - May 22, 1941 A Bouquet of Pink Roses and a Scorcher

 

May 22, 1941

5:30 P.M.

Darling—

Words couldn’t express what I felt when I opened the front door, upon returning from work, & saw your letter. I felt like crying—that’s how happy I was, sweet.

Today was a “scorcher.” I think the mercury hit about 105. To make it worse, I was “sicker in sick.” Finally came through. I slept in my lunch hour, as I usually do when I am not feeling well, but this time I felt even worse. I was going to ask for permission to go home, but stuck it out. If you can, so can I.

Mr. Jaffe brought in a bunch of beautiful pink roses (from his garden) for the office. I asked him if I could have a few to take home to Mom & he gave me the whole bunch.  He said he would bring more in—if he remembered. Mom thought they were lovely.

I am enclosing two dollars to tide you over until I see you. I hope it’s enough. I’ll give you the rest when you come in. (Inducement)

I put a little picture of you (one I had) in the pin & have been wearing it. Mr. Jaffe said that I should get a picture of you “in uniform” for it. We’ll see.

I’ll give Sam’s girl a call the first chance I get. I doubt if it will be before next week. I’m very glad that Lil wrote to you. She said she might join the Army & choose Ft. Meade as her station, but Eddie said there would be a “triangle.” At least you’re learning who will take a few moments to drop you a line. Then, again, most people are just too lazy to write.

Your Mom just commented on how I look. She contends that when I am unwell I look better than when I am well. Can you beat it! Oh well, it’s still a compliment. She is definitely going to New York as I send back a card saying she would be at Rose’s wedding.

Harry asked me if we could go to the race track Memorial Day, but I informed him that we were broke. However, I did say that we might consider it on July 4th.

Jake tells me that Evette is the same type as I. He also says that he cares for her more than any other girl he ever went with. That guy has me thinking. I’m afraid he’s got it—but bad. He doesn’t stop talking about her.

I stayed in last night—did some washing & ironing—for a change. I’m going to take it easy tonight. In the meantime, take it easy & take care of yourself—we all love you. So long, baby, til Saturday—when you’ll see

Your lovin’ wife,

“Ev”

P.S. How is your “crease” holdin’ out? I’ll press it again when you are in.

P.P.S. Here is one of Ben’s jokes. If an Irish woman married a negro, what would her children be? Answer—Irish jigs. Don’t blame me, I was only trying to cheer you up.

P.P.S. Tonight marks our ninth week of married life. Imagine! Nine weeks.

P.P.P.S. I always think of something after I end my letter.

Thursday May 22, 1941
7.00 P.M

Dear Chippie,

Just to prove to you that wonders never cease here I am writing again. It was a thrill to receive two letters from you today. The first one was sent to the wrong camp, and arrived simultaneously with the one you mailed yesterday. I was glad to hear of Sam and Ann Nerenberg's good fortune. I am disappointed because Jack hasn't written yet. I intended to write to him today but decided you were more deserving. It's much too hot to write two letters. The heat is simply terrific. We spent most of the after- noon looking for shady spots and the group games that were scheduled for the last hour were called off. The Lieutenant was afraid some of the fellows would get sunstroke (I heard him say so). Last night Sam & I took some pictures. The first two I took so were n.g. so I tried again, and it's just fair. You should have seen the company put away 35 gallons of lemonade at mess tonight. Everyone half-dead of thirst & I’ll bet that no soldier in the outfit had less than a quart. I'm feeling pretty good now and getting so that I can take the grind with not too much ill-effect. In the evening after I take my shower, I feel swell. Just one more day before Saturday, my sweet, and unless something unpredictable happens to hold up our passes, I'll be seeing you then. I'm anxious to see and hear about the pearls what Mark had to say. I would like to have him for Saturday dinner. You might try asking him. What puzzles me, is how you got in touch with him. My guess is that you called him at the place. It just occurred to me that you probably won't get this until Saturday afternoon, in which case you may have difficulty in contacting Mark. But, if by some chance you do get this in time to call him at work Friday, tell him to bring Adams along. The fact that everyone is fine and the house is coming along nicely gratifies me no end. I can hardly wait to talk to you, sweet, but one thing they do a good job of teaching you in the Army—is patience. So—I'll try very hard to hold my breath until then. We have a four hour march and (bivouac—(pitching tents), tomorrow so I think I'll turn in early (if I can stop perspiring) and get plenty of rest. Take care of yourself, sweet, and give my love to all—and never stop being so considerate of your loving husband

Phil

Post #8 - May 21, 1941 Dreams of a New Home and the Continuing Grind of Basic Training

May 21, 1941

6:45 P.M.

My dear Phil:

Well! Well! Well! Our good friends, the Nerenbergs, are the proud parents of a son. Looks very much as if we are going to have another Phil in our midst. Read the enclosed card for details. I guess we’ll have to forgive them for not writing to you.

I called Mr. DeKoven today and asked him whether “our home” will have concealed telephone wiring. It will not, unless we pay $3.00 per plug and let him know about it the early part of next week. I think it would be a good idea to have one plug put in the parlor. That’s all we need. I’ll discuss this more fully when I see you.

Mom bought me a string of pearls (ten strings, twisted) today. Remind me to tell you about it. (How I got them).

It’s been very hot & sticky these past few days and everyone seems all tuckered out. Sansom Street is simply “cluttered up” with people in the evening. Sort of reminds me of the Bronx. It’s as noisy as hell & twice as smelly. If things move along as they should at Walnut Hill Park, we should be moving within the next six or seven weeks.

How’s my hubby been feeling these past few days? If you aren’t too tired (some night this week) will you try to write? I certainly miss you, sweet.

Last night I stayed in the house alone until about 9 when Harriet came in & “dragged” me out. Jakie, Harriet, Rae Wyman, Mrs. Greitzer & I sat on the porch & “gabbed” while Mom & Tante Shush sat in the parlor & “gabbed.” Some evening!!

Incidentally, how is your money holding out? Have you had an evening to yourself?

Everyone here is fine. Jakie is working late this evening. Harry goes up to Al’s place every night & helps along. He says the extra money comes in handy.

I’m looking forward to seeing you, sweet. Mom sends her love. All I can say now is that I love you, Phil.

“Ev” 

Wednesday, May 21, 1941
6.45 P.M.

Dear Ev,

When there was no mail from you today, I felt sorta let down, but just to show you I won't hold it against you, I'm dropping you these few lines tonight.

Next to receiving a letter from you, I enjoy writing one to you. It was very hot today, and the program was a rigorous one what with close order drill (with rifles), bayonet drill, hasty entrenchment, instruction in construction of barbed wire entanglements, mechanics of the light machine gun machine gun drill, etc. The day's work is so exhausting, that everyone holds his breath, as it were, until the evening, when one can take a shower and relax. There is a pronounced relaxation of tension immediately after retreat and everyone is so relieved that there is a good deal of horseplay and fun-making and we laugh at almost anything. Right I am waiting for Sam to finish dressing. We are going around to take some pictures.

I got a lucky break today. You know my jacket or blouse, as they call it here, was too large for me. One of the fellows had a 38 which was too small for him, while mine is a 40 which is too large - so we traded and we both have blouses that fit. So much for my side of the story.

What have you been doing these past few days? Why didn’t you write? Sam just received an enormous package and there's a great to-do here and everyone's trying to guess what's inside. They've finally got it open, and it's a big tin box of assorted fancy cookies. And I can't eat any - damn it! No Bicarbonate. I've been using those Bisodol tablets I bought in Phila. They help allay the burning. But not fast enough nor completely enough. It appears very much as though I'll be home this week-end, sweet, so don't fail to remind me to take some soda back with me. By the way, did you call Sam's girl friend yet? We're anxious that you get together. I hope to receive mail from you tomorrow, Until then, I am your loving husband 

Phil

P.S. My love to all

Post #7 - May 19-20, 1941 A Token Gift and War Games

May 19, 1941

6:15 P.M.

Angel—

Surprise! Surprise!—or did you expect it? I wanted to be sure that there was something for you in this delivery of mail.

I haven’t much to report, Sir. After your departure I help Mom “clean up.” I changed into my green sports suit & went to the club with Jakie & Eddie. A few boys were playing ping-pong & Jakie & Eddie joined in. Having nothing to do, I just sat myself down & read a few magazines. While there I took the words of “Everything Happens to Me” in shorthand. It’s a very nice song. I like it. We left early and I was in bed by 10:30.

Arose at 7:45. Off to work. I don’t know whether to call it work because, for the first time, I didn’t have a single, solitary thing to do, except to answer the phone.

Mr. Jaffe (the lucky so & so) bought a ticket to a charity dance & won a free trip to Atlantic City—a weekend at the Ritz-Carlton—all expenses paid. Imagine! Boy, is that guy lucky! He asked me how you were & whether you had been in & various other things. He must have been feeling good for shortly after he had returned from lunch he called me in & said “Evelyn, here’s something for you. I saw it while I was out to lunch & thought you might like it.”

It’s a pin—a replica of your garrison cap that opens up like a locket. A small circular picture fits inside. He said “Now you can have a reminder of your husband with you all the time.” I thought it was a nice gesture on his part. Mom thinks the pin is adorable & wants me to buy her one. She also thought it was very nice of him to give it to me.

I called my mom & had a long talk with her. She will send you a letter shortly. Everyone at home sends their best regards. My father saw an automobile accident take place last night and helped to get the injured woman to the hospital—all of which prompted my mother to have me send you this warning. Be careful—at all times.

I really don’t know what to write. Nothing much has happened. I hope these few incidents aren’t uninteresting. I write these things just for the sake of writing to you, sweet.

If you find you are getting low on funds near the end of the week, don’t borrow, just write, & I’ll send you what you need. I still can spare a few more dollars, so don’t be afraid to ask for it. I want you to have it. I want you to have everything you need.

How’s the heartburn? How was the trip back? If you’re not too busy, dear, try to write to

Your loving wife,

“Ev”

P.S. I tried to send you a kiss but it didn’t come out so good.

P.P.S. I love you.

I think this one is better.

May 20, 1941

6:30 P.M.

My dear hubby:

How are your tootsies? I hope that hike wasn’t too tiresome. Honest, sweet, I think I can feel it too, believe it or not.

I almost mailed my previous letter without a stamp. I asked Harriet to walk me over to the mail fox and she noticed it. I didn’t do very much last night. Harriet & I kept each other company. Mom called the Browns. They had unexpected company from Baltimore Sunday so they stayed home. They were sorry that they could not see you, but will do their best to be here next time you are in. Sidney was also home. I was told to forward best wishes from all.

I called Mark today. I told him to stop around. I’ll also ask him to stop over some week-end when you are home. I’ll explain your circumstances to him and have him drop you a line every once in awhile. He was glad to get some word of your whereabouts. I thought it was a good idea to call him and arrange something in this manner. I hope I have’t gone against your wishes by doing this.

How are the chances for getting leave this weekend?

I did the funniest thing last night. I woke up, patted your mother’s arm & said “Are you alright dear.” I didn’t realize what I had done until I arose in the morning. Were you alright last night?

I have my Aunt Gussie a break & called her. She was more than surprised to hear from me. In act, everything I told her was a surprise. Here, again, I was told to forward best wishes.

I found the enclosed penny coming home from work. I am sending it to you—for luck. Hold on to it.

Mom received a card from the Customs House telling her to be there on May 26th as they want to help her obtain her citizenship papers.

It’s wonderful—the way I skip from one thing to another. I sit down to write—but find it difficult to make my letters interesting. I just jot down whatever enters my mind. I hope these “tidbits” will help to “brighten” your day. If you can take it, I can dish it out.

All’s well that ends well, so I am going to end this so-called letter with all my love to the swellest guy in the world.

“Ev”

Tuesday May 20 -7.30

My Dear Evelyn,

Received your most welcome letter. Don't ever suggest that your letters are uninteresting. They are always that. Even if they weren't, they'd still be the brightest spot of the day, Remember that!

It was very nice of Mr. Jaffe to give you such an appropriate gift. Convey my gratitude for his thoughtfulness, will you, Ev? Maybe someday soon I'll provide that little picture. The trip back here was uneventful and comfortable. We arrived with ten minutes to spare. Yesterday went pretty much as usual after Retreat (5 o'clock). So I wrote a long letter to Mark, since I had promised to do so before I left, and never quite found the time. Lil contributed a letter to "the cause.” She sounded somewhat nervous and distracted, but it was good to hear from her just the same. She is the one person beside you, my sweet, who has taken the trouble to write. If you see her, tell her I appreciate her thoughtfulness in writing to me. Maybe I'll find time to drop her a line soon. Tell her for me that the best thing she could do is - go home. Today was different to say the least. We were called on to repulse an enemy attack on Laurel (Harry knows where it is) - At eight o'clock A.M. we joined the column which, believe it or not, stretched seven and a half miles. So - we marched five minutes and stopped five minutes from eight to three thirty in the P.M. It was pretty tough work as it was very hot and we suffered a little because we were allowed only the water in our canteens, which was insufficient in the high temperature. About half past one the whole company fell out along the sides of the road and grabbed an hour's shuteye before we were called on to continue the march. Anyhow, we were pretty lucky, because the advance columns broke up the attacking forces and occupied our objectives, so we weren’t needed in the battle at all - being the reserve force. Consequently, we were sent back. Altogether we marched about eight miles - and believe me, those bar-racks looked mighty sweet when we returned, hot and tired and dusty and very, very thirsty. There was a great rush for the showers. After Retreat I took my bath and felt immediately refreshed. Right now - I'm feeling pretty good. I've already applied for week-end leave and expect to come in this week on the train (at reduced rate). I have $ 3.50 left of the $5.00 and I don't think it will be quite enough. So - if you can spare it - you might send me a coupla bucks. Why don't you call Sam's girl friend, Ev, and get acquainted - her number is Gra. 4658. Her name is Edna Glaser. She's expecting a call. Please write tomorrow, sweet. My love to everyone - kiss Mom for me - you know, I'm rather proud of Mom. I think you understand why. So long, sweet.

Your lovin' husband
Phil

Post #6 - May 13 & 14, 1941 A Mother’s Day Party and the Tribulations of Basic Training

May 13, 1941

6:30 P.M.

My dearest Phil:

Two weeks gone—50 more to go. Not too bad. How are you feeling & how was the trip back? Don’t bother to write me, if you are coming in this week-end.

I suppose you are wondering if you have time, what has happened these past 48 hours. When the bus left, Marcelle’s brother drove me home. I ate and got “fixed up.” Mom, Jakie & I went up to Jake’s club for the Mother’s Day affair. It was very nice. Upon entering we were given a fresh white carnation. (The boys asked me if they should consider me a mother). By the way, I looked exceptionally well and all the fellows asked Jake where he met me. He told them that I was “just his sister-in-law.” The boys gave an impromptu show (rehearsed a half hour) which wasn’t bad. It made us laugh and, believe me, it was what we all needed. After the show card tables were set up and Jake & I got a few ladies together at one of the tables with Mom & she had a lovely time. Ice-cream, cake, pretzels, soda & other refreshments were served. There was dancing, so I danced with Jakie. I felt like a child. All the girls up there must be at least 21 and over. Eddie’s date (Harriet) was crazy about my blue sheer dress and she thought it was very different & expensive. Was she surprised. I also wore my white fur jacket.

We left at 10:45, taking a block of ice-cream with us. We put the ice-cream into a glass & poured Pepsi Cola over it. It made a delicious ice-cream soda. Try it sometime.

Monday night Mom wanted to go to the movies, so Mom, Jakie, Harriet Greitzer, & I went to see “The Lady Eve.” It was a very light, entertaining comedy. I think you might like it. Everyone but Mom did.

My cold continues to “hang on.” This morning, when I arrived at the office, I blew my nose slightly. All of a sudden blood gushed forth. It was a very violent nose bleed—something I have never had before. I probably irritated the tissues or membranes by blowing my nose so often. It’s nothing to worry about.

Incidentally, on our way to the movies, we past a hat store. In the window there was a striking white felt hat perched at a daring angle on the mannequin’s (is that how it’s spelled) head. It is a military style with a dashing & very fluffy black feather arranged so that it practically resembles a drum majorette’s. It cost just $1.98, so I bought it. It’s a “killer.” Wait till you see it on me.

All day long I try to picture you—where you are & what you are doing at that particular moment. Monday night I sat alone in the parlor from 7:30 to 8:30 thinking about you. That’s probably why Mom suggested the movies.

I’m looking forward to seeing you this week-end. If you can’t make it, let me know as soon as possible & I will come to see you. I love you sweet. Always remember that. I still have that frightened feeling. I guess I always will—while there’s a week between us. Everyone sends their love.

Your Chippie—“Ev”

May 14, 1941 5:50 P.M.

Dearest Evelyn,

No doubt you'll be surprised to hear from me again so soon, but I find that my mind is more at ease when I know there is a letter on the way to you. Moreover, it may encourage you to write more often. The occasional letter I receive from you is the bright spot in an otherwise drudging day. We receive mail twice a day, and al- though I may receive a letter in the morning, when the afternoon mail is given out, I hope against hope that there may be one for me. I know it's silly, but still I feel let down when there's none for me. Your letter, which I received this morning was more welcome than you'll ever know. Was glad to hear that you enjoyed yourself at the B.A.J. party. Tell Jackie I appreciate the way he is taking care of you and Mom. That hat must be a "lulu". I can't wait to see it. By the way, how's Harry behaving? And how is the budget working out? Does Mom have hough money for the week? To all appearances, I won't be able to send much of anything in the way of money, unless I give up coming home week-ends. I hope I don't have to, as looking forward to the week-end at home is all that keeps me going. Besides, after the 13 week training period here, I don't think I'll be able to get home at all for the next for 5 months. So please bear with me, sweet, if I spend my money for train fares. I'm asking leave every week-end while I can still get home—there will come a day when I'll no longer be able to. Of course, there will be week-end now and then when I won't be able to get leave, but that can't be helped. On those occasions, you might visit me. Yesterday was a killer. We had our first bayonet drill and practiced throwing grenades in addition to our regular drill, exercise & instruction. When we got back to barracks, I was pretty well exhausted. But that wasn't all. Immediately after chow (when we were supposed to be off) an order came through. We had to rush like hell to pack (Blankets, raincoat, toilet articles, underwear, etc.) for a bivouac and hike. We were told we were to start at 6.30, but at 5.45 we were called out. Luckily, I had a premonition and was fully packed. Most of the fellows were about half through, but they had to turnout anyhow. They managed somehow to throw their stuff together and get out, but when they were called on to march "on the double," you should have seen the conglomeration of stuff strewn over the ground. The rest of us had our hands full picking it up and getting it back to the owner. Finally after marching about a mile, we parked on a large flat and fell to pitching our tents. We had to unpack all the materials we had so painstakingly packed just a half hour before. By the time we finished pitching texts (2 men in each) and laying out our under-wear, gas masks, toilet articles, etc, etc., it was dark. Then some officers inspected the layout and we got busy tearing down the tents and packing them and the rest of the stuff. By that time it was pitch dark. We assembled and stood waiting for perhaps 20 minutes. Then we began to march. Can you picture it? There we were in a darkness so deep you could only see the man in front of you; tired as hell, dusty, and generally miserable. The darkness was so complete that every few minutes I banged into the man in front of me whenever he stopped. The man to my rear bumped me and so on down the line. So - we marched what seemed an interminable time. Finally—about 10.30 P.M. we arrived at barracks completely knocked out. What a day!! I thought it would never end. By the time I pushed myself between the sheets, it was about 11, We were awakened at 5 A.M, and we were a bunch of dead ducks. All day today I had to push myself to do anything at all—I felt so weary. It was even an effort to sit and listen to the instructors. I would gladly have given a month's pay to have been able to lie down and sleep. But—all's well that ends well. Today we at least have the evening to ourselves. I'm feeling better now—except for a sore left arm, (the last shot was the given us today) thank God! After finishing this I’m going to take a shower and hit the hay. I expect to be home this week-end, baby, so keep your chin up and show everybody how pretty you smile. Please write at every opportunity, sweet, I love to hear from you and I love you. Spread it around to the rest of the family will you, sweet? There's certainly enough to go around. Just save some for your ever-lovin' spouse

Phil

Post #5 - May 8, 1941 Planning a Family Visit to Ft. Meade, MD

May 8, 1941

7:10 P.M.

Dearest Phil:

Why haven’t you written? We are all worried about you. You should at least drop us a card so that we would know that everything is O.K. We don’t know what to think.

I have wonderful news. The Browns just called & said that they would take Mom & I down to see  you Sunday. We told them about the Wymans and they probably felt sorry for us. At any rate, sweet, we’ll be on our way at about 8, Uncle Nish, Tante Bosh, Bea, Milton, Mom & myself.

I called the Greyhound Bus Lines & it costs $3.15 to go directly to Ft. Meade. The train trip costs $2.75 & then you take a bus, which amounts to more, to get to Fort Meade. It’s rather expensive. The whole family could go for the same money, if we had a car. I think soldiers are entitled to a reduction, so it would be cheaper for you to come home, if & when you can.

I had a surprise visit from Lena Tucker & her beau, Heshy. They were engaged & are going to be married Aug. 31. They plan to take an apartment around here.

We are going (I just sneezed) to have company this week-end in the form of Mr. & Mrs. M. Gutkin & Mr. & Mrs. (Anne) Carl Fuhr. They are coming in on Sat. at 1 o’clock.

I forgot to mention in my last letter that my mother “hit” again for two cents.

Your Mom just interrupted me. She says that you should answer immediately so that we can be sure about Sunday—whether everything is alright the way we plan it. We will definitely be there Sunday, unless you write to the contrary.

Jack has been seeing quite a bit of Evette & makes no secret of his feelings for her. He says she actually told him that she likes him, very much. Maybe, huh?

Harry has been acting a little better of late. He says he will be afraid to go near you when you get back—you’ll be so strong & powerful.

Mom is her usual self. Just worries all the time.

Maybe if you wrote her just a few lines she would feel better. (She claims she’s jealous that you are all mine now.) Are you? Gee, I miss you, baby. It seems like a year since I last saw you. Every day, in some way I remember  you. I am either quoting you or imitating you or sumpin’. You seem to be in my blood.

I hope my letters aren’t boring as very little happens around here for me to write about. But, at least I write. Please, dear, even if it is just a card, but write + (shorthand period)

Love from,

Your wife,

“Ev.”

P.S. Everybody has been asking about you.

Post #4 - May 5, 1941 Evelyn’s Normal Life With Family & Friends During Philip’s Initial Training

Monday, May 5

7:00 P.M.

Dear Sweetheart:

“I hardly know how to start this letter.” The pen I am using is lousy, to say the least. (The  one my mother gave you). All I can really do is to repeat what you wrote in your lengthy & very, very interesting letter. I miss you terribly. You are at least kept busy, but I am not, not even at work. All I do the whole day through is think of you. (A poet, even if I have to say so myself). I never could lie about my feelings (especially to you) so I won’t now. I cried & cried & cried & cried. Mom never saw me crying, only Jackie. I didn’t sob, I just cried softly. That is how I spent Tuesday. How I ever got through the day I’ll never know (damn pen), but I did. Tuesday evening I came home, all tuckered out. Mom & I got dressed & decided to go to the movies. We stopped at the Wyman’s & never did quite make the movies, even though we wanted to go every night last week. Wednesday morning I woke up expecting to see you beside me. You can probably imagine how disappointed I felt. I was empty all over & didn’t eat a thing all week. I am now down to 110, but since the good news that you were to be stationed nearby came, I have begun to pick up weight & resume a normal life. Wednesday night Harry, Mom & I took a ride up to North Philly to pick up Tante Shush & Rae, who were at Ethel’s. They dropped me off at 8th St. & I visited my folks & Helen. They picked me up later in the evening & so to bed.

Thursday night I didn’t do a thing except sit, which also goes for Friday. When I received your cards, they made me feel even bluer. I couldn’t help but feel that you were homesick & lonesome.

Ann was surprised to learn that you were in the Army. You should see Ann’s place. They had parlor set covers & curtains made to match & the place looks like a palace. I went to the drugstore with Ann & while there I met Mickey’s sister, who suggested I stop over. As both Helen & Ann were going out & I didn’t want to be alone, I went over. I found out (from her mother, whom I chatted with for a while) that Mickey just recently got a job in a chiropodist’s office as a nurse for $18. Some people have all the luck. I left Mickey’s at 9:30 & went home, but all the kids & my mother were out, so I started for home. Earlier in the evening I telephoned home & said I would come home that evening, but didn’t say when. Your mother went to the Brown’s with the rest of the family. Sidney was in & the Brown’s were taking him to New York Sunday, so everyone went there Sat. night. I got home at 10:30 & was in the house all alone until 12:00 when Mom came home. I just can’t tell you how lonely I felt because I can’t find words descriptive enough. Mom trys [sic] hard not to leave me alone & I do likewise. We have been getting alone [sic along] swell & enjoy each other’s company. (This pen is really awful, it just scratchs [sic]). We went right to bed. I got up about 12:00 on Sunday & helped Mom about the house until 3:00 when Bob, Lena, Yale, my sister & the kids came. (We put the covers on the set, but they don’t help very much).

I hadn’t gotten dressed as I had expected to bathe first. I was wearing my green pajamas & my robe. Bob commented & he also did something which I never really thought he had “guts” enough to do. (I’ll explain when I see you.) Immediately after their arrival I bathed & dressed. Everyone left the house & went to the Wyman’s. I was alone again. That old feeling. A few moments later Bob walks in & says “Your old man is on the phone at Wyman’s.” I didn’t believe him but nevertheless I started over. Then he shouted, “Hurry up, what the h— do you think it is, it’s costing that guy a fortune.” So I ran like hell. Your voice was like a tonic. It made me feel good & I felt happy & contented for the first time in days. I wrote you a postcard Sunday night, but I don’t know if you’ll get it as the address was too general. Bob is getting a 1932 Studebaker, if his plans work out. When he does he promised me faithfully that he would take me down to see you. Jack was out in Upper Darby Sunday with the fellows & tells me that “our home” has attained a one-story height. We’ll probably have to make our selections for wallpaper, etc. shortly. I’m so happy about that, that I want to scream it from the rooftops. Gee, darling, if you were only home for good everything would be complete. I adore you, Phil. I just can’t wait until I can get myself encircled by your arms. Once I get you I don’t think I’ll ever let you free again. Sunday night Jack took me up to his club. (I hope you aren’t angry.) It’s very nice there. No one was there at the time but Eddie & another drip, who were playing ping-pong. Jack & I played all the popular recordings, played darts & played ping-pong. We even jitterbugged a little. Later in the evening (about 10:00) we went home & Mom, Jack & I each had a box of ice-cream. Umm was it delicious. I couldn’t help thinking about you, sweetheart. That was one time I would have gladly given  you some. Monday night after work I took your letter into the Wyman’s & read it to everybody, but there were certain parts which I omitted. It is now 8:10 & I am still writing. How come you are in the Infantry is what everyone keeps asking. Well, how come? Your mother was disappointed to learn this, but we talked her out of her bad feelings. Incidentally, both Harry’s were in Baltimore this past Sunday & nearly died when I told them that you were there. They even rode past Ft. Meade. They went to Baltimore to visit some friends. About my visiting you. I’ll come every week even if no one else does. Wild horses couldn’t keep me away from my hubby. I’m making plans to have the gang out Sunday & will let you know definitely before the week is up. I’ll write every day, even if it is just a card. I also heard ”Intermezzo” at the same time you did. I sort of felt you there & actually expected to see something to the effect in your letter. You never let me down, do you? I love you so much for it. You seem to touch the right spots,—if you know what I mean. You’ve certainly gone through plenty. You must feel like a real man now, Pvt. Strongin. Write every day, will you? I always look forward to receiving some mail when I get home from work. I’m glad you’ve made acquaintances. They will at least keep you busy. Mom, the boys, the Wymans, the Pallers & everybody sends their love. I’ve enclosed a print of my lips, until I can replace it with the real stuff. 

Lovingly yours,

“Ev”

Post #3 - May 12, 1941 - The Beginnings of Basic Training at Fort Meade, Maryland

May 12,—8 P.M.

My Dear Ev,

Bathed, shaved, and ready for bed, I am now at liberty to write, and believe me, after the dust and sun and toil of the day it feels swell to be fresh and clean and able to relax long enough to write. We rolled into camp about 11:30 and hit the hay immediately. One fellow was "short sheeted", which means that someone folded his bottom sheet in half. You can imagine his discomfiture when he tried to stretch out. For a few moments there was bedlam in the barracks, what with his cursing a blue streak and everyone else in stitches. Things finally quieted down and the last thing I remember was tucking my feet beneath the sheets. I must have fallen asleep before my head touched the pillow—I was really knocked-out. We were up at 5:15 (base time) and the same old grind was taken up once more. Rush like hell to get dressed in time for Reveille—rush to get “chow” before it was all gone—rush some more to get ready for the field-hike to the field-calisthenics, instruction on the B.A.R. (Browning automatic rifle)—extended order drill—back to barracks for chow, back to the field, more instruction—close order drill—more extended order drill, tactical maneuvers, etc, and back to barracks at 4.45; more chow (the meat was absolutely inedible). Everyone raised the roof about it. It was “beef hearts” or something equally gruesome and so tough we damn near broke our knives on it. We couldn't even begin to chew it, let alone digest it. However, there was also Coffee, Spinach, tomato sauce, bread pudding & syrup (which I spread on the bread and had with my coffee. Tonight there is a minstrel show at the movie house, but I’m passing it up for a chance at a bath and shave, and the privilege of writing to you, my sweet,

I really appreciate it when I have some free time in the evening. Tomorrow we don't even have the evening free, as we are leaving on a hike at 6.30 P.M (imagine). We are to hike out some place, erect pup tents, tear them down and hike back again. We are due to return 10.30 P.M. So you can see, Ev, that I'll barely have time to blow my nose, let alone write. However, I'm trying hard not to complain, although it is a pretty tough proposition. As you know, I just can't gripe about something that can't be helped. I didn't like the whole business from the very first, but my fatalism is beginning to assert itself, and I don't get upset about anything anymore. As a matter of fact, I'm feeling better and better each day, both physically and mentally and I'm beginning to feel deep down that I'll be able to endure anything that may be in store for me with equanimity. I take great comfort, sweet, in the fact that those nearest and dearest to me are well and comfortable. As long as they continue that way, nothing in this wide world can cause me any worry or hold any terrors for me. So it's up to you, Ev, and Mom and Harry and Jackie to keep things rolling. My greatest anxiety is that my absence may cause any of you any hardship. These aren't merely words that are meant to sound pretty. It's the plainest way I know to tell you that as long as you all are well and happy, so am I, and vice versa. It was more wonderful to see you all again than you'll ever be able to appreciate. I can hear you all talking and saying that I seemed a little strange while I was with you - that I seemed subdued, perhaps, or a little reticent. I just couldn't help myself. The desire to absorb as much of the atmosphere of "home" and all the word implies; the warmth that comes to one in the midst of his family, was too great to resist. In a word, I was too busy "feeling" to talk or think much. So please excuse me, everyone, for being a little selfish. I especially want to apologize to Mom (I hardly had two words with her). Ev dear, you know exactly what I felt and what I'm trying to convey here. See that Mom understands, will you? About this week end—it's too early to say, but the chances are 50-50. Kiss Mom for me, Ev. My love to all—and next time I visit you, I hope to be the same old

Phil

9:10 P.M.