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..
Believe it or not, I actually got into town today and had my corset adjusted. It fits and feels much better and I'm going to try to wear it daily. I feel swell today. Adele slept straight through the night, and although I hit the hay after 11, I awoke feeling rested—first time in many weeks. I cleaned the place and about 10:30 Betty asked me if I could go into town with her and Sarah as Dewees was having a sale. Ruth has off til Friday and took care of Adele. I'm going to work for Miss Hahn on Thurs.
Yours of 23 Jan. v-mail was in the mail this morning along with a v-mail from Jack S. He has been assigned as warehousemen and has given up the idea of transferring to the Air Corps. It's an easy job and has responsibilities which I think may earn him stripes. I also had a letter from my brother telling me of your plans to meet. Lots of luck and I hope you make it this time.
About the sale, I came darn close to buying a winter white ($10 reduced from $15) but Sarah told me to wait til they knocked them down further. Being in no particular need for a dress momentarily, I decided to wait. If they reduce them still further, I'll be able to get two or even maybe three.
The Reisners and Meadoways paid us a visit few days ago. I meant to tell you, but always forgot. They all asked to be remembered to you. I also ran into Helen Bellis with the baby last week while on my way to Broad St. She looks swell and proudly displayed a wide circlet of diamonds presented to her by Izzy for their anniversary and her having the baby. I couldn't see the babe as he was bundled to the hilt.
I've almost completed Mickey's fascinator and intend to get wool for several sweaters this week. Betty is going to work for Sears Roebuck 35 hrs. a week (7 hrs. a day—9 to 5) at $0.60 per.
My grandma is back on her feet and I can hardly wait til she gets out again.
Sweet, I always have so much to say, but so little time to write as I wish. When I have time to sit and write and write—I can say what is in my mind just the right way. At times such as this, I have to “dash off” a letter and say whatever comes to my head or you wouldn't get a letter. Please bear with me, darling, if my letters are not always up to par as yours usually are, as it is customary for me to get off three or four letters in less than two hours.
I've got an unbearable urge to make love to you at the moment. Never mind, though, 'cause I'll make up for every moment I felt thusly. Pucker up, sweet, 'cause you're about to be soundly kissed SMACK. I adore you, Phil!!
Your Eve
P.S. I have two sets of stationery that Ruth got at the 5 & 10 with U.S. Army printed at the top. Can you use them?
January 31, 1944
My darling,
Tonight I am C.Q and having prepared the bunk with no less than five blankets, I am all set to write to my heart's content. Your 17 Jan. V-mail arrived this afternoon, and it aggravated me because you had utilized every bit of space within the borders. It made me wonder why you didn't deign to use the regular letter form. I'm sure there is much more you could and would have said if space permitted. Please, Chippie, use the V-mail form only when you have nothing at all to say. You make me feel cheated when you squeeze all your writing in. At that, the last line was only half there, and I had a helluva time deciphering it. That's the line asking me what I want for my birthday. A question like that shouldn't come as an afterthought, to be jammed into the very margin and almost obliterated. Thanks for asking. Sweet, but there is really nothing I need or want over here, (except those few things that I mentioned a while back, namely: hankies, underwear, candy and that picture I keep harping about.) Now that I think of it, I would like an overseas cap with Ordnance braid size 6-7/8. If you are ever in town and in a position to do so, you might buy one for me. However, it must meet all three requisites. The price should be between $1.50–$2.00. I don't suppose it's too early to start talking about birthdays and Wedding Anniversary's, etc., considering that they are all in March, only six or seven weeks away. I don't suppose I'll be able to send you anything that you may want, situated as I am, but I certainly would like to try, so please, Baby, give me some idea as to what you would consider a swell birthday gift, and a fitting anniversary gift. At least if I'm unsuccessful in obtaining the things over here, I can send you the money to buy them “over there.”
Today was pay-day and tomorrow I'll send off seventy or eighty dollars, I'm not entirely sure yet if I'll be able to spare the higher figure. Today I worked mostly on the files, and at last I'm beginning to make progress. I could have had them in shape long ago, only there are always more immediate concerns popping up and I get very little time to fuss with them. Once I do get them set up, though, my work will be greatly facilitated. Too, in their present condition, they are a constant source of annoyance, chiefly because I have all the other aspects of my work under control. It bothers me that this one problem is left unsolved week after week. But now that I'm spending every spare minute on the task, I feel better about it.
This evening I had supper with Red. The big lug has caught himself a beaut of a cold and he feels miserable as hell. To top it off, he has to pull guard duty tonight. Poor guy—I feel sorry for him.
There's no coal or coke or anything here in the Orderly Room with which to make a fire, and it's getting colder by the minute. Naturally, so am I. As a matter of fact, I'm seriously considering dashing over to my hut for a couple more blankets. Right now, I am so uncomfortably chilly, that I find it difficult to gather my thoughts (such as they are.) By the way—how has the heater been percolatin’ this winter? Has it given you any trouble? Is the house always good and warm? Baby, when I think back and remember the ease and warmth and general congeniality of home and family—well it's just impossible to describe the extent of my yearning to return to it all. The guy who said “there's no place like home” must have been a soldier—no one else is in a position to really appreciate the glory of home. Well, darling, it's very near six months since I last saw you and “home,” but I just can't feel that it will be that long before I see you again. For me, the end is always “just around the corner.” That, I suppose, is because I want it to end—so desperately. Call it wishful thinking—if you will, but you can't deny that it's a good way to feel. It's certainly kept my morale high all the while, and I'm still as confident as ever that it'll be “any day now.” And what if I'm wrong and that day is sometime next year, what will I have lost by feeling that way? You said it! Not nearly as much as I will have gained from peace-of-mind.
Your constant allusions to the way the punkin is “getting around” these days is a new source of unease for me. I guess I'm a worry-wart, but I keep “seeing” her falling down stairs and picking buttons and things off the floor and putting them in her mouth, etc., etc—. You do keep a constant eye on her, don't you, Ev? Sometimes I think it's a good thing I'm not at home these days. Seems to me I'd be afraid to go around the corner for fear of losing sight of her for an instant. Bet I’d be a regular old “fuss-budget.”
It's very still and very cold here in the Orderly Room now, and I'm beginning to pine for your voice to break the stillness, and for your body to drive the chill from me—and that, my Sweet, will never do. I don't relish the idea of lying awake half the night in this cold—just wanting you—and wanting you—and wanting you—
So I better sign off right now—with a fond embrace—and a sweet kiss—and those three little words for your own little ear: “I adore you.” Now be a good girl and snuggle-up to
Mom couldn't stop talking about Uncle Sam's apartment. She said no one could want anything nicer. Lena and Bob may buy house, as their house was sold and they have been given notice to vacate by the end of Feb. It seems Syd mistook the package I sent him, as a gift from Phil and Emma, and sent them a nice thank you letter before he discovered his error. Uncle Sam is working at the Navy Yard making excellent wages. Yale and Shirley are coming home on furlough sometime in Feb. Adele looks through her picture books with interest and points to the “wow-wows.” Adele loves fur; likes to rub her nose in it. You ought to see her play with her ball! She pushes it under the couch and then flattens out on the floor like a puppy to see where it is. She pushes it here, throws it there and plays a sort of “cat and mouse” game. Phil, it's so hard to tell you every little thing she does and understands. Suffice it to say that she understandseverything. If she drops something and I ask her to pick it up, she does. If I tell her to sit down, she sits down. She isn't always obedient though. I had her over at my mom's today. She was seated at the piano and had a grand time banging on it. My folks darn near ate her up. I love you, Phil, and want very much to hold you close at this minute.
Your Eve
January 30, 1944
Sweetheart,
Last night, just as I was getting getting to write to you, who should walk in but Red Barnhart! We had been informed earlier in the day that we were to pick up a “replacement.” There was a great deal of conjecture among the guys in the Orderly Room as to what the “new man” would be like. Imagine, then, how surprised we were when the “new man” turned out to be good ole Red. However, he's not really the same Red that left here some three months ago. He is thin and drawn and generally in pretty bad shape. But, I think he'll be O.K. shortly. I certainly was glad to see the guy, though, even if there isn't as much of him as formerly. Anyway, we had a lot to tell each other and once we got to throwing the bull around, we forgot to stop. Before I knew it, it was time for lights out, and I didn't get that letter written after all.
Received your 18 Jan. V-mail this afternoon, Baby, together with a V-mail from the Browns. I wish, Sweet, that you wouldn't write on V-mail and confine your writing to the comparatively small space—especially when there is much you have to say—as there was in yours at hand. There is some excuse for me and I never use it unless I'm absolutely at a loss for material for a real letter as I am tonight. The monotony of the routine is unallayed and there is absolutely nothing new to report. There are some things, though, even in constant repetition, never lose their appeal. In this category—three little words head the list: I love you. Love to all from
Your Phil
Sunday, January 30, 1944
Dear Ev,
I arrived Sat. after a pleasant trip.
Believe it or not, I don't mind being back.
I've written Phil and believe me it was difficult to make words portray my emotions, but I did as best I could.
You know I never did say thanks for the hospitality to you or Mom, but that's only an indication of how very close I feel to you all. Sort of like a brother or a son and I guess one of those doesn't say thanks either, under the circumstances.
Well kid, I've got to get a pouchful of paper into reading shape and mail box fitted, so please excuse the abrupt “au revoir” and give my love to all.
Our daughter is all of 14 months today—a lady. Yeh man! Yours of Jan. 21 came and I wish you'd make up your mind—in one letter you told me to send letters regular—the next you say to positively send them air-mail. I'm betwixt and between—what shall I do? I'll send them air-mail regardless and that's that. Etta, Nat, Lena, Bob, Em and Phil are picking Mom up and taking her out to Chester. Pauline is having a house-warming. I'm working on Mickey's fascinator at the moment. I received a nice letter from Mickey Brown. He considers himself very lucky being in the Army 15 months and still here. He was recently reassigned and the old outfit went overseas. That's the second time that happened. Adele says “baw” for half and calls Natalie “nanna.” Did I tell you that Betty quit her post office job after one day? The hours were anywhere from 9:30 to 9—whenever you finished up—so she decided it was too much. She's on the lookout for sumpin’ else. It's time for me to love you, as I do at the close of each letter, so here I am adoring you to pieces on paper as well as actually again.
Your Eve
January 29, 1944
Dear Phil,
How are you? I am fine and hope you are the same. I graduated from school yesterday and I again made the meritorious roll with five “E’s” and three “G’s.” From here on I am going to Olney and I just hope I like the school. I was glad to hear that you received the package for the English children, and I'm going to send two more off this week. When you receive them, don't forget to send out more requests. Hoping all is well with you and don't forget to write.
Two years ago we took up residence at 4906. Remember the very first night in “our” new bedroom? God, but we were happy! I'm so anxious to relive that same moment—cmon’ sumpin!
Your lengthy letter of Jan. 18–19, darn near knocked me for a loop in regard to your so-called “jealousy.” I can't help wondering how my reunion with Jack N. will make you feel. Honey, I do have to admit that I can't understand it, especially in you, although I have an idea it is the distance between us. Baby, if only when that feeling hits you, you think of my undivided and deep love for you, how I cherish and adore each thought of you, each word you utter or write, each sweet understanding act, you’d think differently. You are always the one to think twice, usually before you even feel, and I'm sure you feel lots better if you did. I assure you, I have not intentionally tried to hurt you, nor will I ever do so in that connection. I'm all for kissing and hugging you, and I hope I shall never make you feel thusly again. I can't stand knowing you are hurt. I love you so very much, Phil darling, mere words or actions could never really convey my true feelings. In a few words, “I am you and always will be.”
Yes, I agree with you when it comes to baby contests. I never did like them.
No, baby, I won't reiterate my words when it comes to our “next baby.” Have I ever promised you anything and backed out? You say I’d reiterate them if you were at “home” and in a position to do something about it. I disagree with you whole-heartedly. If you were “home” and things were as we desired them, I’d probably be pregnant right this instant. I have suffered bitterly, and naturally I intend to be more careful next time. Do you blame me? I probably won't for a long time, but there'll come a day, my sweet, when you can give your all.
Harry and Goldie have not spoken to me in reference to their position in the house. I do know that they do not like or want the back room as as it is too cold (Mom goes to bed when it is warmest and arises when the heat is at its highest) but will have to take it during the warm weather when the baby is due. The room cannot be used for a baby as the temperature varies too greatly in cold weather. No, it won't be “difficult” for Goldie here, with all experienced hands, it will be very inconvenient. It just shows that you know very little in connection with a baby, as you haven't had a chance to experience such, as they actually are. As for being more difficult for me, I've got much more than I can conveniently handle at the moment, and I have no intentions of knocking myself silly. I am completely worn out raising Adele and I'm anxious to get on my feet once more. I'm always so dog tired and even after a good night's rest I feel tired. I'm really not strong enough for the tough constant routine, which routine will be finished by the time you get back. I'd like to start taking the Combenita Vitamin B-Complex caps again if you could possibly get them for me at $2.16. Not that I wouldn't take them at the right price, but I would like to buy a large amount (2 or 3 bottles of 100) and keep them on hand—at the saving.
Harry and Goldie haven't given much thought to a name, and even when I try to suggest, they aren't too receptive. Anything with a “d” for Goldie’s mother, whose name was Dora. Daniel seems most likely for a boy—if it's a boy. So you think it will be a boy? So do I.
I'm glad you were able to disclose that you are at a Fighter Base. Have you ever visited nearby towns or villages?
Phil, I never cease being amazed at the similarity of our feelings. When I read through your letters, I to get that “glowing,” feeling closer to you than at any other time. As soon as I finish, I get back into my actual position, I lose ambition and want to settle back and be with you. I have to push myself to get started again and your every word is imprinted on my mind. I picture the day I'll “see” you again and be able to clasp you to my hungry self and demonstrate the extent and depth of my constant and everlasting love and adoration for my Phil and I get all warm inside.
Today I went to Ruth's graduation from 2:15 to 4. She will go to Olney High. On my way to the school, I stopped at Ann's. Ricky's quite a lot, and much steadier on his feet than Adele. Adele could fall 120 times in 60 seconds—she's that unsteady. She never cries when she hurts herself, she merely rubs the spot. It's so pathetic and lovable. I've noticed that she calls me “momma” in the morning when she wants to be taken out of bed and then points to the door and makes motions with her mouth to signify her desire to eat. She always kisses me in the morning without my asking. I consider myself luckier than you when it comes to having Adele hug and kiss me. Don't, for a moment, think that it takes the place of your embraces; it doesn't, nor can I give vent to my feelings of love for you. It's a much different feeling—more motherly.
Phil, she gets prettier day by day, and many are the times I've stared at her unbelievably, for it doesn't seem right to me. They change from day to day and each new trick or accomplishment is equally unbelievable. I always try to picture you when you see her once more.
I finally managed to get your package properly wrapped and it will positively go off tomorrow. Do you want more candy and chewing gum? I'll try to send off packages regularly. Ruth has a few days off next week and I hope to get downtown to do some real shopping. Ruth is here, and is going to post this for me, so I'll sign off now, with a hug and a long, long kiss.
Your Eve
January 28, 1944
Eve, dearest,
I am writing this unusually early, while the boys are still at supper 'cause I want to make the movie tonight. The title—“Rhythm of the Islands”—I don't know the players. Sounds like a “stinkeroo,” but I'm not taking any chances that it might be worth-while. I am alone in the hut and just finished making a fire to warm the place up a little. Can you picture me chopping wood for kindling and poking around among the coals?—uh-huh—I didn't think you could. Anyway, take my word for it, that's just what I've been doing. You may wonder why I”m not eating supper tonight. I'll let you in on a lil secret. The lunch this afternoon was so good that after finishing it, I debated a while, and then went back and did it all over again! When you consider the size of the meal (1) you'll get a faint idea as to why I have no particular appetite for supper. Listen: 2 pork chops, mashed potatoes, coleslaw, string beans, bread, butter and coffee and canned sliced pears. And I ate all of it—twice. Oh well!
I kept myself busy all day and the time just flew by. In the afternoon, two letters arrived—both from you, Baby. They were V-mail dated 11 Jan. and Air Mail, (3 pages), dated 15 and 16 of Jan. I've already filed them as there was nothing in them that called for comment. I did enjoy reading them, though, they were so cheerful and chatty. I think I am as up to date in mail received from home as anyone in the company, but that's not surprising; not everyone writes as faithfully as my Chippie.
Just finished a letter to your Mom when yours came in, and I'm pretty well caught up with my correspondence. I don't think I owe anyone a letter. (Except Ruthie, I just remembered) I'll make it a point to get a letter off to her tomorrow. She has been more than helpful and considerate, and I want her to know that I appreciate it. All of which reminds me—the company is going to chip in to sponsor an orphan. I'll tell you all about it when I learn all about it.
I'm looking forward eagerly to the 5 Feb. when I will meet Eddie in London—if all goes well.
Reading about Adele made me think that you are never at a loss for entertainment. She sounds like more fun than a barrel o’monkeys—and how I wish I were there to join the fun! But reading about her is almost as entertaining. Nevertheless, that doesn't diminish my desire to see her in action one iota.
The boys are back now and, they're making a lot of noise and distracting me. Besides, I'm just about “writ out” anyway, so I'll sign off for the time being. Au Revoir, mon cherie. A kiss for mon petite enfant. My love to all.
Imagine my surprise when I opened your air-mail letter this morning to find it had been written on the 22nd. That's the earliest I ever got mail from you. Just five days and it was the sort of letter I had expected to receive after you had read my letter of a few days ago concerning money. It answers the letter I wrote to a “t” so you may consider that letter void. Don't pay any attention to it. I think it's swell of you to reconsider and send along whatever you may have on hand that you can comfortably spare without any hardship to your interests. I hope on those occasions to save most of what you send, as you already know what savings means to me, especially in large amounts. I certainly will take a C.P. [Clair Pruett] picture as you “hint,” just as soon as I receive the money. I've noticed that it takes three weeks for me to receive whatever monies you do send. Your letter kept me in high spirits all day long and I could kiss you for it.
My mother took Adele to Broad Street in the walker today and I accomplished a great deal of housework. I’m quite knocked out and intend to get to bed after posting this. Ruth will mail off the other packages as your requests arrive. I don't think Jack N. particularly likes the idea of receiving his mail from you via me. That's the impression I had, so to be fair to both of you, I think you’d better send them direct. I love you, my dearest, and herewith enclose a kiss.
Your Eve
January 27, 1944
Dearest Darling,
Your V-mail of 12th and 13th Jan. arrived today, but it didn't offer much in the way of news. I was glad, though, to learn that you were sending off another box of chocolates and the hankies, which I still need pretty badly. I haven't received the first box of candies yet, but I'm looking forward to getting them any day now. I think it would be a good idea if you sent off a package each month so they wouldn't be too far and few between. I was wondering, Chippie, if you couldn't get a whole box of halvah at one of the big stores on 11th Street. It's packed in a wooden box and should travel well. Will you inquire, Sweet?
Just finished a letter for Mom. Tell her, the next time she writes, to use lined paper 'cause I get dizzy looking at her up-hill-down-dale script. Today, I mean to get still another letter written—if I have time—one to your Mom; it's a long time since I've written to her and I feel I have been neglecting her.
Adele's newest bag of tricks are cuter than ever, especially that saluting business. I was busy on the typewriter all day today and I still have plenty left for tomorrow.
And now, I bid you a fine good-night, Sweetheart. My dearest love to the punkin and her circle of admirers. Much more to-morrow, Baby—I promise.
I hope to make this a “longie,” as I do feel one is due you. Before I get on with the details of last night, I have a few other items. I received the enclosed letter from the Benises. Need I tell you how it made me feel? Tears came suddenly and then I felt better. He is the one we got so chummy with while in Columbus. Her offer of a trip to Columbus this summer sounds interesting and if everything is alright, I hope to go. What do you say, sweet? I'm going to send off a letter to each family sometime this week.
In your letter of Jan. 8 (received yesterday), you asked my forgiveness for your reluctance to dance with me on so many occasions. Of course you're forgiven, and I'm glad youve taken a real interest in dancing. I love to dance, especially with you, my darling.
I particularly like the way you express yourself in Jack's letter in reference to your sex constancy. I can truthfully say “ditto.” Expressions such as those endear you to me, increasing, if at all possible, my deep and abiding love for you! You are inexpressibly tender, sweet, and thoughtful, dearest, and I doubt if there are many of your type and calibre.
Another thing of interest—I notice that Adele's third finger is a trifle larger than her forefinger. Quite the opposite for me—on one hand.
And now for last night. I wore my beige sailor dress, pink moonstones, brown shoes, fur coat, and a hat that Gloria gave me that matches the coat perfectly. Remember that brown fur-trimmed, off-the-face hat she bought to match her dress coat? She decided she didn't want it anymore, and since it matches my coat perfectly, I am using it. Jack said my hair looks swell; that it looked different. I wore it in a rather high pompadour, a bit over the forehead. The bottom was in a sort of page-boy effect. (Jack walked in about 1 P.M. as I was finishing my cleaning. I wasn't dressed or made up, yet he said that he thought I looked well.) He said later in the evening that I'm looking better than ever, so his judgment will have to serve in that connection. I was so happy to see him and gave him a royal welcome, hug, kiss and all. His comment: “Gosh, I wonder how you’d act if Phil walked in.” His presence for a little less than 24 hours made me keenly and acutely aware of my loneliness for you, baby. He never looked so well. The army has done wonders for him. He read your letter, plus a few of those you sent to me, and watched Adele intently. He thought her prettier than her pictures. Adele’s skin is exceptionally tender and it has a tendency to rash or redden at the slightest touch or kiss. We had dinner; then Milton Brown called. He was home on a 3-day pass and wanted to know if Harry and Goldie would join him and Sylvia for an evening of fun. It was a break for all of us, as he had the car. Sylvia had gone to a dinner at Jack Lynch’s and Milt had to pick her up at 9:30. He came here at 8 and we left it 9. In the meantime, my mom had promised to wash a batch of clothes for me and I had faithfully promised to hang them. So it was that at 8:30, my mom brought over the washed clothes to hang. Jack help us to hang the first large bunch. My mom was all for letting me go without hanging them, but I insisted and she relented. I only had time for the first bunch, which was the bulk of the wash and I felt better when I left knowing she wouldn't have to do it alone. We arrived at J.L.’s at precisely 9:30 and Sylvia was waiting. We had to rearrange ourselves in the car. Goldie sat on Harry's lap in the back, then Jack and me. However, Goldie wasn't able to stay that way, and I had to sit on Jack’s lap. Between Jack’s G.I. coat and my bulky fur coat, there was little room for comfort. I was relieved when we arrived at our destination—Neil Deighan’s, a nightclub in Camden. Sylvia had a funny look on her face when she saw me so friendly with Jack, and Goldie explained. It's a lovely place, but the floor show was “punk” with a capital “p.” We “girls” had orangeade, cheese and crackers, while the “boys” had 4 rounds of beers. I did quite a bit of dancing with Jack, very plain dancing this time. We did a lot of talking, too. I won't go into detail on that as I'd rather have Jack tell you anything he told me himself. He met a nice girl in New York (Adeline Shefrin) that he felt sure would be the “one” if he could pursue the right course. After his third date with her, upon arriving home, he got to thinking that his mom would not be there to see him if he did get married, and he claims he “broke down” and cried for at least 15 minutes. Two Louies at Jack's camp had an argument concerning his photography position and there is a strong possibility that he may be transferred. I’d better chop the subject before I tell you all and leave nothing for him.
We soon tired of N.D.’s and decided on a good place to eat. We wound up at Kelly’s Sea Food, where I had four fried oysters, french frieds, cole slaw, and (of all things), a “rock and rye.” I had made up my mind beforehand to try one drink and while I didn't particularly care for this going down, it left a delicious taste in my mouth the rest of the evening. We got home at 3 and Jack and I talked for about a half hour. As we talked, I felt myself filling up and overflowing. Before I realized what had happened, I was in tears on Jack's shoulder. He, too, confessed an overpowering loneliness for you at the time when he felt he wanted to pour forth his heart.
I neglected to mention that we visited the Anapolsky’s before going downtown. Harry is also in England. It was a nice evening, everything considered.
Today was a typical warm, sunny, spring day and I had Adele out in the walker. I'm wearing my peasant blouse, black skirt and red sweater. Adele woke Jack up and he played with her. We had breakfast and about 2 P.M. went to Lizzie’s. He has reservations for the 1:08 A.M. train this morning. I felt a sinking feeling as he disappeared from sight, knowing that it might be a long, long time before we meet again.
Betty is definitely working for post office at $35 per. I kinda miss her and she was in and out all day long.
I'm glad you like the way I looked on the four Mrs. Strongins snap. I thought I looked darn good. Was there another cut snap of me? You didn't say whether or not it was included. Harry and Goldie seemed to feel better at your acknowledgement. Harry plays the horses frequently, trying to make kill.
My mother has put my grandma back on her feet and I'm looking forward, once more, to the day when she will leave us again.
Jack tried to fix the typewriter—no dice. I'm going to have it repaired as soon as I get my next check. I tried to gift Jack with $5 cash, but he wouldn't accept it, saying he would spend it and wouldn't have anything to show for it. I'll get him a gift when I go shopping and send it off. Room enough, my darling Phil, to utter once more my praises and love for you. Pucker up, honey, cause here comes
Your Ev with a kiss.
January 26, 1944
My own darling,
Last night I decided to go to the movie thinking that I would write when I got back. When I came back to the hut and came in out of the wet and the wind and the cold, I discovered that I was very sleepy and in no mood for anything but the sack, so I turned it in without further ado. And that's why you won't receive a letter from me dated the 25th Jan. I'm really sorry, Sweet, that it happened that way, but I assure you it bothers me when I fail to write—as much as it might bother you to go mail-less for a day. Today I was blue and moody and couldn't understand why until I realized that the reason for my discomfiture was the fact that I had failed to write last night. So, if I am unusually conscientious about writing from now on, you might, if you are inclined to be unkind about it, attribute it to the fact that I'm only looking out for my own peace of mind. But I trust you know better than that, Baby.
Yesterday afternoon I received yours of the 29th December together with Mom's letter. These must have been held up, for I have letters more than two weeks more recent. However, I was thankful for them, nevertheless. It was good to hear from Mom again. You may tell her that I'll write tomorrow if I can't manage it tonight.
I know you'll be glad to learn that I finally swung that pass for 5 Feb. for the purpose of meeting Eddie. Immediately upon getting Sgt. Murphy's O.K., I wrote to Eddie advising him of that fact and giving him detailed instructions for a rendezvous. Now, if he fares as well with his top-kick, we will at long last be meeting in London. I'm keeping my fingers crossed.
This afternoon I received your latest communique, your letter of 14 Jan. That's the one that enclosed the ad from Bonwit Teller’s. I think the outfits pictured are darn cute—and I wish you wouldn't be so cautious about buying some new things. Of course, if you feel you can’t afford it—and I have only a very hazy idea of your financial status at present—then there's nothing to be said. After all, you know better than I what you can afford. But, if I know you, and I think I do, you wouldn't spend a dollar unless you knew where the next two were coming from. You ask me whether or not you ought to buy some new things, knowing full well what my answer always has been and always will be—“Buy it!” You have a pretty good idea of what I consider becoming to you, and that goes for all items of clothing, so you needn't hesitate on that score. You hint about a red camel-hair coat and imply that it's a little too expensive, and I know darn well that you’d just love to have it. Well, then, if you can't bring yourself to buy it, why even mention it? I doubt if you realize it, but you don't do my morale or self-respect any good with your constant implications that you can afford this, that and the other thing. After all, it is my duty to you to keep you provided with all those things, and heretofore I have prided myself that I have done my duty in that respect, but your apparent lack of clothes only reflects on my status as “provider,” and you can't blame me too much if I suffer a loss of pride as a consequence. You know, Chippie, that I'm doing my best to send you all the money I possibly can. Don't be so unappreciative or unfeeling as to imply that it isn't enough—even if it isn't, and don't tease me with the thoughts of what you might have—if you only had the money. I think, though, from past performance on your part, Chippie, that your reluctance to spend doesn't spring so much from your incapacity to do so, as it does from your innate aversion to dispersing money that you would much rather save. To that—I can only repeat that well-known bromide “You can't eat your cake and have it too.” Inversely: “You can’t have your cake and eat it too.” I would say, in your case, that the latter is the more apt. I trust I have covered the subject sufficiently, Baby.
That “14 Jan.” method of writing dates is GI practice—I thought you knew.
As for the people who were hurt because I didn't send them a picture, just tell me who they are and I'll do my best to oblige. If it is possible for me to get that 8 x 10 for you, then you may rest assured, darling, that I will do so.
In reading over your letter, I find that I've neglected to take cognizance of your question about the hat—again (seems to me I ignored it once before—sorry, Honey). I would suggest that you take the piece of fur to a milliner and have him (or her) give you some idea of what he could do with it. If your original idea of an “off-the-face” still appealed more to you, you might inquire as to what might be done in that mode. Personally, I can't see the advantage of an off-the-face in this case, although I remember the style is most becoming to you—and the way you pile your hair in front—almost precludes any other. But it seems to me the effect of the matching fur will be almost entirely lost if you persist in the idea. I rather favor an off-center beret effect to get the most out of that piece of fur—but of course, I may be talking “through your hat,” and the idea may be without worth or practicality—in which case, I would suggest you consult the milliner about a “happy medium.” I just happened to remember how attractive that red beret was on you. I think if you could recapture the same effect with the fur, you would not only have an attractive hat—it would be different. I liked the “jauntiness” of it. The more I picture it, the better I like it—give it a try, will you, Chippie?
You certainly did a mean day’s work on the 14th, Honey-chile, and I wonder that you can accomplish so much in a day. Too, I suspect that you're “over-doing” it again. Have a care, Baby, that you don't force me to give you hell for it—and I will, if I hear one peep out of you about being “knocked out.”
Your guess that I would have a “pile of mail” awaiting me on my return from furlough, was entirely correct, as you probably know by now. (Think I'll ask for another furlough.)
I was busy all day today making copies of the men's “Immunization Records,” but it is a lot of work and I didn't get half through. This evening I went down to the Snack Bar with Klein, Moats and Oxborrow and had a cup o’coffee (but good) and a coupla of toasted cheese sandwiches (but delicious!) Almost forgot to tell you— yesterday, at dinner we had—(you'll never guess!) chocolate ice cream! Need I say more? No! Well, I will! In the evening, on the way to the movies, we stopped at the Snack Bar and had—that's right!—chocolate ice cream. Lady, it was so good and so rare a treaat that I actually hated to eat it and have it disappear.
Well, Baby mine, anything I might say now would be in the nature of an anti-climax. (after all, what is more exciting than good ole chocolate ice cream?) all right—all right, don't tell me—I know! I meant, or I should have said, under the present circumstances, what is more exciting than—etc.
Now that I have us both thinking along those intriguing lines, I think it's time to quit. (I’d hate to be diverted from this particular train of thought.) Don't wake me up—let me dream— Goodnight, Baby, I love you. My love to our Adele—and all our folk.
Ever, Your Phil P.S. Bet I dream I’m “home” tonight.
January 26, 1944
Dear Phil,
Just received a delayed letter from you. It was dated September 1, 1943, and decided to answer you without waiting for your answer to my last letter. I recently was assigned to a new job as a warehouseman and like it very much. There’s very little physical labor to it, but it's a very responsible job and I have to do a great deal of figuring. The job rates a T-5 and I expect the rating to be coming very shortly. Yes, big brother, I'll be right up there with you. When we were down in Brisbane, we used to take time out for tea also, for the Aussies were originally English. I'm improving greatly with my sketching and will be very happy to receive the set of oil paints that Gloria sent to me. I hope that in my spare time, I'll be able to practice oil painting so that I may be good enough to paint Gloria and each member of our growing family. Gloria certainly keeps my morale sky high. I receive mail from her very regularly. I made a Valentine with my original poem on it and sent it off to her. I get a letter from Ev every now and then and she writes me all the news on the home front for which I am very grateful. Our outfit is getting to be more like a garrison camp every day. Why, just today we were told to fall out for reveille every morning, bright and early. I hear that Al Chase is 1-A (1 alright) in the Army. Gosh, Phil, somehow I just can't picture him in a G.I. zoot suit. I guess you have heard of the new ruling concerning soldiers in a diseased area, so I won't take up space telling you about it. That yellow blotch you see above is insecticide from a bomb spray. A few bugs (Guinea is about the most bug-infested land on earth, and believe me, they drive one bugs) were bothering me and I had to bomb them out. Well, so long big brother, hope to hear from you very soon.
Jack N. put in an appearance late this afternoon as did your letter of Jan. 8, plus the one for Jack. He saved me the trouble of mailing it to him. I haven't time to comment on your letter, baby, but I will tomorrow. Jack, Harry and Goldie, Milton, (who is home on a three day pass) Sylvia and myself are going out (I don't know where). Milt has the car, so we can go most anywhere. Jack and I were reading over many of your letters, baby, and both got a big kick out of it. Gosh, how I wish you were here. Just seeing Jack has made me feel so lonesome for you. Your letter to Jack, as usual, was more informative and your views on sex were more detailed than any I have read from you. I'm happy to know you feel the way you do—it helps so much. So long for now, sweetness, all the love I bear for you and a great big hug and kiss.
Your Eve
This is a letter from Jack Nerenberg, Phil's best friend:
January 25, 1944
(delayed by travel)
Dear Phil,
First off, I must apologize for the trouble I shall cause you as you try deciphering what I write. I'm doing so aboard the train, which is swaying me from Chicago to Denver. Having apologized, I'm now licensed to write like hell; let the apostrophes fall where they are pushed.
The peal of Adele Bara’s laughter still lingers, so recently have I heard it; for as you now know, it was only yesterday I saw and heard her and your loved ones.
Phil, my emotions were such on seeing them, I find it hard to believe how anyone that's a man (supposedly) could be so stirred. What I intend to relate cannot possibly do you any good, for it shall only heighten your yearning. On the other hand, I find that the mention of my Mom in my presence, saddens me, it likewise creates a warmth within me.
When I first entered, no, even as I approached your house, it seems as though I were in a dream so did the familiar bus ride make me feel. The church, the drugstore, the tinsmith, the gone headquarters where I stopped to read your name and Jack’s on the service roster, all those pervaded my being with a nostalgia akin to that brought on by a look into the old family album. Through it all, one thing I was terribly aware of; I wasn't to see you, this trip, Phil. I miss you in my way as much as does Evelyn in hers. Than that I cannot come closer in describing my feelings.
As I continued in my seeming dream I found myself waiting for an answer to the bell I was hardly conscious of ringing. Mom came to the door, a beaming smile welcomed me to your home even through the window of the porch. As I kissed her and knew she was real, she knew she was the closest I could physically come to my Mom and I knew I was the nearest to the reality to be, your homecoming, and I found myself wishing for Mom and for Ev that I were you, but there.
Then as we unclinched, my eye traveled the length of the rug to behold at its end the playpen of the bundle of loveliness which is sweet Adele Bara. And who should be in it? Why none other than the same, but lovelier? Phil, she's a knockout and a honey and as clever as can be. Her antics are boundless. How so much can be in one so young is indeed puzzling. You say “Pistol Packin.’” She'll say Ma-Mah clear as a bell. You say “sit down,” (on the living room stairs) she’ll consistently do as follows (by the numbers)
1. Place hands on stair.
2. Place folded right leg between hands.
3. Raise her fanny.
4. Waddle some, first touching right “cheek” to step, then left.
5. Extricate and straighten right leg that got caught under upper half of left in the process.
6. & 7. Smile and bounce.
Oh yes, she does bounce. The wonder of it all is how she retains her balance as she goes up and down so very, very hard.
I'm certain Evelyn has related to you the above and all else regarding the little princess, so I won't get into more, but back to where I was after first seeing Adele Bara, who convinced me that sometimes a kid can resemble one parent almost beyond belief. H’ya beautiful. I'm sure that what there is of Evvie in her shall manifest itself in years to come. What then, could there be more to look forward to?
Well, after I finished gazing in awe and closed my mouth, I ran upstairs to find Ev in a house dress. Just ss for you, she said if she knew I were coming at that hour, she would be through and prettied up. She looked damn nice, anyway, and just as you would have done, I kissed her. Eat your heart out! Go ahead, who cares. (Anything to snap him out of how he felt two seconds ago).
Gee, Phil, we spent a few lovely but lovely hours together, missing you beyond words. Her head buried on my shoulders, we three were very close. You didn't notice, but I was all choked up as she lifted her chin and I was helpless to stifle the shivering wetness of those beautiful tear dimmed eyes.
Then the next morning I was awakened to confront none other than Adele Bara whom Evvie had brought in. There it was we four together. Did you notice how I help them both, and had the right to. For wasn’t it we who worried and fretted Adele into and Ev back to this world in those suspenseful moments that decades were no longer than on Nov. 19, 1943.
Then at noon we breakfasted with Harry and Goldie (who didn't want to work on my account and didn't) and Mom. We had gone out the previous night and returned late after topping off the evening with a seafood supper, which brought to mind the laughing spree of the last one, remember
At about 2:00 P.M., Ev, Adele and I took a little walk (with stroller). Lord how beautiful your kid is as the sun highlights her features and the blue A.S. monogrammed suit adorns her loveliness. We tried unsuccessfully to obtain film. It will have to be another time that I shall be able to enjoy photographing her.
Oh yes, the night before and the night after, on the two occasions I saw the Anapolskys, they couldn't get over how well Evelyn looked and said as much, voicing my opinion, especially after I saw her dressed in a new hairdo.
Phil, she's holding up swell, believe me. Else I wouldn't mention it at all. She did cry that Tuesday night, but that was because seeing me, but not you and me, was a little too much for her, as it was almost too much for me, seeing yours, but not you. She has a reserve built up and knowing it, she is much stronger.
After Adele, Ev, and I returned, I jumped into the house to take my coat and leave of Mom and Goldie (Harry had left after lunch to woo Lady Chance of the Pony Chances). Then Ev, Adele and a neighbor (Sarah), walked me to within a block of the bus stop before Ev and I realized that we should have gone to 5th St. for the 47 car to Aunt Lizzie's. I guess we weren't thinking too clearly, our emotions dulling our facilities somewhat. We returned back and stopped at 8th and Rockland and I was glad that the neighbor was there. It was less of a hardship, saying goodbye to Ev in her presence.
After crossing Rockland, I turned and waited till Adele threw me a kiss. She must have known how I felt holding her close a moment before. There they were, Adele, smiling brightly and Ev smiling sadly. I couldn't turn my head away, but somehow I managed for I had to, else they would have seen the tears in my eyes and known of the pain caused by the congestion within my forehead.
When you return, please do as I suggest. On a mild sunlit day, ask Ev to take Adele to the corner nearest your house. Ask them to stand to the right of the signpost (as one would see it from the west). Then walk directly across the street (west). Then turn. Then remember Adele as she was at 18 months. Thus will be recreated for you the mental picture I shall always carry with me of those who have become so dear to me through you. Please God, so be it.
As ever,
Jackie.
P.S.
The highlight of my New York furlough was meeting a beautiful girl; not beautiful by the standards of Billy Rose, but by yours and mine and you and I know how much more rigid are our standards. Her eyes, though, by anyone's, but double.
If she will have me, that's my wife to be.
It seems a little too much to hope that on three occasions we spent together, I could have gotten the idea across to her. I shall have to substitute words on paper for me in the flesh to convey to her my feelings. If someday I should introduce you to Adeline Nerenberg, you'll know how successful I was.
