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..
Eight mailless days! Gosh, honey, I can't help feeling uneasy. It's been a long time since I had so many consecutive mailless days.
Last night was an interesting one. Betty has a nephew who is stationed in California and married recently. The girl is a Californian and had never met his folks. They had a large wedding and had the entire procedure recorded. He managed to get a two weeks furlough and last night he brought his wife over to Betty's along with the recordings. I managed to borrow a phonograph player from one of the neighbors and we listened to the recordings.
I accomplished quite a bit around the house today. I also had a large wash and even washed my cherry colored quilted robe. I never thought of washing the robe, but Betty washes hers often and it washes beautifully, so I decided to try. I washed the belt first, to make sure the colors wouldn't fade, and finding it didn't, I went ahead. It had a lot of spots that wouldn't come out when I gave it to the tailor, but the washing took them all out. I also cleaned my closet and gave several of my summer dresses to the cleaners.
Adele simply wouldn't fall asleep at napping time this afternoon, so I let her stay up all day long. Consequently, she was ready for bed earlier than usual. Uncle Sam and Pauline dropped in (with Barbara and Phyllis) after having taken Cookie to North Philly station. Cookie is going to visit Morty in Missouri for three weeks and is traveling pullman back and forth as at a cost of $400. Not bad, eh? Barbara and Phyllis are cuter than ever, especially Phyllis. Adele hugged and kissed them and played with them like a regular little lady. They ran after one another and had a grand time. Barbara said, “Gosh, Ev, she's such a big girl now!” Adele called Uncle, “Pop.”
Tomorrow is Natalie’s 10th birthday and I bought her a sheer cotton dress for $3. Betty is having the kids from the neighborhood in for candies, cake and ice cream, after which she will send them all to the movies. I'm going to let Adele give Natalie the package to see what will happen.
Mickey Brown was able to get home for a few hours last night. Undoubtedly, he is at Camp Kilmer.
I'm so impatient for mail from you that I can scarcely contain myself and feel terribly let-down after the big Mother's Day surprise, as I was looking forward to the letter you wrote that day, I should have known better. Every time I look for mail, I disappointed. What the devil is wrong with the mail service???? Darling, I miss you so keenly - well - tomorrow is another day. What else can I say? Yes, dear, I hadn't forgotten - how could I? I adore you, my own, so very very much. If only I could gather you close to your ever lovin’
Still no word from you and today is exactly one week since my last letter from you. I can't understand such a long delay. Could it be that you've moved once again? I've been looking forward to the letter you wrote on Mother's Day (and I'm sure you wrote that day) and since your mail is usually only five days old - well -
I did have some mail - a v-mail from Milt and a nice long letter from Fay. Milt said he thought the training in the States was tough, but the islands had it beat to hell. He was in a black mood when he wrote the v-mail, saying the food was lousy, no cigarettes, and no cool drinks. He said the hot sun knocks him for a loop. Fay, on the other hand, raved about the setup. She has all the conveniences necessary for a baby, and sees Morris every night and all day Sat. and Sun. She sounds as happy as a lark and I think she did the right thing when she joined him. She's in Columbia, SC.
I worked seven and a half hours for Miss Han today, getting my usual ride down with Mr. Frommer and son. I promised to go there again next Thursday. Today, by the way, is my folks 23rd anniversary.
We also received an APO card with Max Brown's name on it - a New York post office. Wonder where he'll wind up?
I just happened to think - last night was the first night I'd been to the Broad movies since we went there together, almost ten months ago. It doesn't seem like ten months - it seems like ten years and more.
Goldie tells me that her stepmother wrote you a letter, which you probably received by this time. Stuart Chase is okay once more, for which fact Ethel is mighty grateful. My brother Eddie didn't send my mother anything for Mother's Day and he had me wondering. However, the other day she received a letter stating that he had sent her a pin and was sending her a large picture of himself.
As I said yesterday, I owe you a long letter, but honestly, sweets, I just can't get down to some earnest writing and hope you'll understand. I promise to write a real longie just as soon as I hear from you.
Guess I'll have to repeat something I've been telling you since the day I met you (some five odd years ago) - that I love and adore you only and always will. I'm in one of those daydreaming moods, thinking of what I’d do to you were you close by, the things we used to do and how happy we were doing them and how happy we will be someday, loving, laughing and living once again, this time with a daughter, or perhaps someone else (?) sharing our love and happiness. Darling, when, oh when will you return to your loving
Eve?
25 May 1944
Dearest Darling,
Just received a nice long letter from Dot, but not from you. This afternoon I managed to get off a V-mail to Gloria. I also sent a letter to S & D.
There was a USO show at the Base Theater this evening. It was titled “Going to Town.” The M.C. was Tiny Day, and though he's a fair entertainer, his act fell flat because we had seen him at our last base. The surrounding show was only fair, consisting of a gal from Staten Island who did an acrobatic dance; a gal from London who sang a few songs—not too well; a gal magician from Berkeley, Calif., who gave out with a lot of outdated tricks; a comedian who just didn't click; and three acrobatic young men who did unbelievable things with their bodies, and proved to be the only real success of the evening.
Last night I saw “Government Girl” with Olivia De Haviland, Anne Shirley, and Sonny Tufts. It was a fairly good comedy and would have been much better if it weren't for the almost insufferable overacting of Olivia De Haviland (of all people!). I don't know what got into her, but she was so unlike the old Olivia, that I could hardly believe my eyes. When she tries to be “cute,” she only succeeds in giving the impression of being a big, overgrown, baby. In the climactic scene, she tries too hard to be impressive, and the odor of ham pervades everything. It is downright sickening. The supporting players are wonderful in comparison. Sonny Tufts, the male lead, is a big, blonde hulk—but “cute” as his first name.
You probably have the impression, Sweet, that I spend most of my time gadding about from one show to another—and I'll admit, it certainly sounds like it, but the truth is, those few hours in the theater each day is just about the only thing worth writing about. Moreover, the opportunity to get away from oneself via this medium is a blessing that I, for one, will never stop appreciating.
The daily grind continues to be just that—the same things happen in the same way at the same time. Is it any wonder the only “different” things I can find to write about are the different shows that come to the base?
Tomorrow, Alan Ladd in “Lucky Jordan,” is the feature. I've seen this one (with you, I think), and I'm hoping tomorrow will bring lots of mail from you, Chippie, so I'll have something to do in the evening. I think it's high time I wrote you a nice long letter, anyway.
For the time being, though, I'm at a loss for more to say—except I love you dearly— that is an omnipresent fact. Just as constant and pressing, is my ever-growing desire to hold my baby—just looking at her likeness leaves me strangely uncomforted. Good-night for now, my darlings. My love to all.
This is the sixth day I failed to receive mail from you, sweet. Considering that I have all your mail up to May 13th, I can't complain, but I would like to hear from you soon. I did have a nice v-mail from brother Jack. I finally managed to mail off the package, which contains: box of peanut chews, carton of Bond cookies, and the pictures. I'm awfully sorry about the delay.
Dearest, I interrupted this long enough to catch my second movie this month. I went with Goldie to the Broad to see “In Our Time” with I. Lupino now and P. Henreid. It was a powerful picture and made me relive our parting once again. I enjoyed it immensely. I believe you saw it.
Harry went out to West Philly this evening and chanced to meet up with Mike Nerenberg. Mike is stationed at the Frankford Arsenal, having been in a bus accident at Fort Dix that broke both his legs. He gave Harry his address and wants me to contact him. I'll give him your address so that he may write to you. From the address I gather he has an apartment and Harry said he has a child. I’ll call him some time this week.
I accomplished much in the way of cleaning and general housework today. I try to keep the house looking neat and clean, as much as my ability will permit. I think I should have said “strength.” Well, both. It was cloudy most of the day and I didn't take Adele out til late afternoon. It hadn't cleared up then, but she insisted on going “bye-bye.” She runs to the buffet where I keep her bonnet and sweater, drags them out and says, “bye-bye,” meaning, “Mommy, please take me out!”
Betty has a colored girl in each Wednesday and her name is Dorothy. We asked Adele to say Dorothy (“Dah-tee”) and she didn't stop saying it all day. After getting her to say Betty and Dahtee, we quickly suggested “Goldie.” She was about to say it, stopped, mused and then said “Dodo.” A short while later we pulled the same trick and she said Goldie very clearly.
After finishing my daily stint to you last night, I decided to knit for a short while before hitting the hay. I did about an inch of the front of Adele's white sweater-to-be. I don't have much ambition for knitting lately and I have to be in the mood.
I know I owe you a long letter, baby, but, honestly, I find it hard to write at all when I fail to receive mail for such a long time. I don't have to tell you, my dearest, how your letters keep me going. I love you so very much, Phil! I wonder if you’ll be angry with me for cutting this short. Sweetheart, I can think of only one thing at the moment - that I want you - so much.
Your Eve
24 May 1944
My Darling,
Your Mother's Day” letter of 14 May just arrived, together with a letter from Gloria in which were enclosed four snapshots of Jack and a very nice letter from Mr. Silver.
As tickled as you were with the flowers, Sweet, I believe I was even more so when I learned that they and the Cable-grams had arrived on Mother's Day. Naturally, I am highly gratified that you as well as both Moms were so pleased with the remembrances. My only wish is that on the same day next year, I will be in a position to present you all with gifts personally.
Glad to hear that Petey took a few more “snaps” of you, Baby, especially since you remembered this time to get your delectable gams into the picture. I wait most eagerly to see if they are as lovely as I remember them. I know you are from C. P.’s proofs.
Keep trying, Honey, to discourage the tendency to left-handedness and the punkin. I wouldn't pay any attention to it in a boy, but I don't like it for a girl.
I don't know if you have seen the snapshots of Jack, but I think he looks very fit. It certainly was good to see the kid’s features again, and I was reminded how much I have missed him without even realizing it.
There isn't much doing in this neck of the woods—that is, as far as I personally am concerned. I guess you know the 8th Air Force as a whole has been far from idle here of late! Tell me, Chippie, do you read anything of our activities in the hometown papers?
Today has been pretty dull for me. This morning I had very little to do, but this afternoon I was called down to the Finance Office to transcribe the pay-roll—and guess what! For the first time since I've been in the Army, I turned out a perfect pay-roll! By that, I mean there wasn't a single mistake in typography, spelling, composition, and a hundred other things that might have been wrong. Not even a strike-out or an erasure marred the perfection of it. It’s an almost accepted fact among Army clerks that the pay-roll without a flaw was never made and never would be. I came to subscribe to that superstition because of all the pay-rolls I have ever seen, and I've seen many, this is the first one that was adjudged perfect by the Finance Dept. If something of the sort happened to me in civilian life, I'd be sorely tempted to hit the boss for a raise on the strength of it, but even though it brings no monetary reward, I feel justly proud of this “freak” accomplishment. I say “freak” ’cause the odds are—it’ll never happen again. (Do I hear you muttering “much ado about nothing?”) I can understand that—after all, it doesn't kill any Germans, does it? But a job well done (however insignificant in the general scheme of things) is rightly a source of satisfaction—so just disregard or try to understand my unseemly enthusiasm. (At least it almost filled the page.)
Sorry, there's nothing of greater moment to relate, Baby, so I'll just take my leave for the nonce—with the promise that I'll be back tomorrow with more edifying news. All my love, Baby. A kiss for Adele—and best love to all from
Your Phil
May 24th, 1944
Dear Evelyn,
You're a stinker. Why didn't you write? The least you can do is answer my letter. What letter, did you say? Don't give me that stuff. It would have been returned, hadn't you received it. Wait a minute, now. I'm sure I wrote to you,---- or did I? Cheez! Come to think of it, I didn't!
Honestly though, kid, I can't write to you till I know that I can write as you deserve to be written to. I have to have at least 45 minutes of clear time. Sometimes of course I get off a “shorty” as you term it, but all the more indication that you haunt my conscience as an unanswered correspondent, more so than the many I write briefly to, or at length without the “shorty” in between, but with a far longer interim.
I don't have your last letter or Phil’s at hand, but one thing stands out so brightly that I thought of it warmingly many times. The suggestion of yours to Phil that we, and Lenny, become three way partners after the war. With all my heart, I wish for such a reality. Here's something else to think about. Sometime, when I see you again, I shall convince you that Denver is the swellest place in the world for such an enterprise, and the most wonderful place of all these United States to begin life anew after the war. Those whom I love and want close to me shall come along or follow. The same for those dear to you and Phil.
Now, of course, details would be foolishness. But mind, only the best argument in the world could convince me differently. Suffice it to say, now that Denver is God's favorite land else never would He have made it the beauty it is nor given it the right climate for healthfulness. People here grow old so beautifully that you can't help but notice how erect and sparkling they look as you casually encounter them.
What's the new score with all of you?
As for me, I'm going along smoothly. I'm not really a soldier, but my conscience is clear. I tried, but my hearing has put me in the class of non combatants. My luck has been such that I enjoy privileges beyond the scope of G.I. imagination because I am fortunate enough to be recognized by an important person as an essential cog in the photography department of the Engineer Board. This important person, the major that runs the board, treats me as though I were his son. Thus far, he hasn't gotten me a rating, but he has tried every conceivable angle and is still working on it. I have become more fully aware of how fortunate I am, and thus have learned to be patient and closer to being contented with my army lot. I am so much so that it hardly phases me that (because the major had me transferred to a company that just returned from Kiska and will stay here for a good time to come) I didn't move to Virginia with my former company. Though Va. is so much closer to home, it's so much hotter than cool summer Colorado. Besides, I'd never gets so swell a job, with so little of being bossed around. Beside the last besides, I couldn't go to Denver every weekend from Va.
My new outfit is O.K. The boys, after hardship in Kiska, are now, as the officers, easygoing and lax in army regulations. So neither do I get up for reveille nor stand retreat nor come in before 6:00 A.M. on a night pass, nor make my shoes gleam, nor make a quarter bounce on the bed I make up, nor etc. Everyone in the outfit has a Class A Pass, a rarity to gape about in a combat outfit.
If it isn't clear to you how come I’m in another combat outfit, let me explain. Headquarters of 2nd Army in Tennessee, despite my hearing, will only allow transfer in the unit. (different outfits, but all 15th Special Troops, 2nd Army) not to Army Service Forces.
Now, my major has gotten after Medics here to force them to release me by proving to 2nd Army that a soldier going into battle with a 37% loss of hearing, especially at night, is committing suicide. So, that's the score—I'm waiting patiently.
Ev, I'm enclosing a letter I started to write to Phil. Would you please send him this one plus that one? He really owes me a letter. I can hardly say more of an informative nature to him than I've told you. But I can use the time I shall save by avoiding duplication. Excuse, Phil old boy.
My love to you all.
As ever, Jackie
This was started 1 day after receiving your letter Phil, but never resumed.
Dear Phil,
It was indeed a pleasure to have received so prompt a reply to my last, less one in between. I got a great kick out of hearing that even the censor commended your literary style, and it makes me happy to know that my letters are a source of enjoyment to you.
Your description of your Passover was awe inspiring to say the least and that episode of nearmiss was really a lulu. I can easily understand how 1944's First Seder night shall make for itself a permanent memory nitch in your mind.
Phil, old boy, I'm doodling, rather my mind is, so I wonder if you’ll excuse me. My damned watch, I just learned, has tired fifty minutes worth. The time is correctly 10:30 P.M. At 4:30 A.M., I must awaken to catch a bus to Denver on a two day pass. Hence, concentration is futile, except for one more thing. You have instilled my mind, by your writing, with a sort of bounden duty, to transmit to my pen a something or other to close letters with. Here tis.
I'll get it right this time “ditto”
May 24th, 1944
Anyway, I sure got a laugh seeing a two, or three tops, year old kid dragging his pants over to the urinal to stand between three sailors in the men’s room of a Denver theater. The kid’s old man was “other ending” in the enclosure nearby.
Sorry I must resort to v-mail again, but I find myself with little to say and hence find it wiser to use this form. I feel much better today and I'm inclined to believe it was my period that caused the ill-feelings. Believe it or not, I'm finished and it isn't quite three days. That is unusual for me, as you well know and can well be the cause of my feeling so ill. It is and has been terribly hot all day long. I hate this kind of weather and I hate the washed out feeling that usually accompanies it. Oh well - such is life!
Adele is becoming fresher day by day. She picks up her hand to slap at the slightest provocation or remark or action by anyone, including myself. I had to interrupt this after the first paragraph to go upstairs and rock and sing her to sleep. The heat has her too and she started to cry, being unable to fall asleep. I give her a lot of cool tea with lemon and she has learned to call it “tee-tee”. Every so often she comes out with a word, doesn't know what she is saying, or does know and forgets. Today, for instance, she came out with the word “hichair” as clear as a bell. She couldn't repeat it when asked. That's how they learn to talk. She’ll soon be able to use two or more words and perhaps small sentences. I gave her two baths today, one in the afternoon before her nap and one this evening. I'm going to give myself a good rubdown and a cool shower before I hit the hay. I'm very perspired and uncomfortable.
I didn't get the opportunity, sweet, to mail off the package and promise to do so tomorrow without fail. Do you want me to get more chewing gum or chiclets? I don't know if I can get chewing gum, but I think I can get chiclets.
I had a nice v-mail from Milt and he has been very thoughtful. He writes to me whenever he gets the opportunity, even if he doesn't get mail from me. I must try to write to him more often.
My mother washed for me again today, thereby saving me a big job. She also washed our summer quilt (the one Lil gave us) and it washed beautifully. I thought I'd get to see “Song of Russia” with R. Taylor at the Lindley this evening - but no go. Mom went to see it with Mrs. Feldman. I'll try to catch it when it comes to the Broad. It's almost three weeks since I've been to a movie, and I'd rather like to see a good one when I do go. There hasn't been much of any account playing around lately.
You have it chum - to use the English way - sorry, though, that you can't have me personally. But I hope that day isn't far off - the day of reunion when we’ll have each other to have and to hold and to love! I adore you, my darling Phil, and want very much to whisper it in your ear. Now, if you'll just come a little closer, - closer - closer - ah, that's better. I love you, and if you don't mind a bit of demonstration this hot night, here's a big hug and a couple of million kisses from
Your Eve
23 May 1944
Ev, my darling,
Just returned from London this afternoon. The train I was supposed to come back on was cancelled and I had to wait ’til the next one. Result: I reported two-and-a-half hours late. But since it wasn't something that could have been foreseen, nothing was done about it.
The train to London yesterday was so crowded that I had to stand all the way. However, I had a great view of the country we were passing through and I hardly minded the tedium of standing. It (the country) was really lovely, Sweet, and I wished a thousand times you might be there to see it. Spring, in all its heartening evidences of new life, made itself felt in the very air. Each flower and shrub was dressed in its “Sunday best.”
Once arrived in London, and more specifically, Leicester Square, I strolled about to see what pictures were showing. The first one that caught my eye was ”See Here, Private Hargrove!” with Robert Walker (yeah, I know he's Jennifer Jones’ husband, and she has two kids, and she's suing for divorce etc., etc.), Donna Reed, Keenan Wynn, and others. Well, Chippie, I enjoyed this one—very much. Robert Walker, whatever else he may be, is a most gifted and personable young actor. He is Private Hargrove—to a “T”! Donna Reed is lovelier than I have ever seen her. (At times, she is downright eatable.) Keenan Wynn, though, does everything but walk away with the show. He is Pvt. Hargrove's finagling buddy, and his characterization is both convincing and amusing. The plot is a very unimportant factor in this, and no one is apt to complain for the lack of it. The dialogue is “real” and sparkling, the direction flawless—and the cast makes it all entirely worth-while.
After a late snack at the Eagle Club, I repaired to the ever-lovin’ Turkish Baths—of course! For the second time in so many visits, I played guide “ex-officio” to three Yanks who were new to the place and didn't know their way around. In the process, I managed to steam myself like a lobster. If you were aware of an outside influence at “date time,” pay it no mind—it was only the masseur, who was intimately occupied with my body at the time.
This morning, waking at eight o’clock, I rose immediately—meaning to get to the station early to get a seat on the train. After a hasty breakfast at the Eagle, I wasted no time getting there—only to find the ten o'clock train had been canceled (as were many others). The next train to where I wanted to go was the 11:10. It was now only 9:30, and already the queue for the 11:10 was forming! There was nothing for it, but to “sweat it out.” I got mighty tired standing—I can tell you! Finally, when the mob was let through the gates, I made a dash for the train and managed, by sheer luck, to spot a last seat in a compartment that was already all but full. The trip back was delightful. First, because the bright May sun over the landscape enhanced the beauty of the prospect. Second, because in the seat opposite, a woman was holding a most adorable baby—a little girl of about two-and-a-half years—blonde and blue eye, and cute.
I could hardly pull my eyes away from her. The mother looked at me oddly from time to time and—no wonder—you remember my distressing habit of “staring holes” in anything that attracts me. She must have thought I was nuts! Of course, I couldn't help conjecturing what my own punkin will look like at that age—and if I will have the rare privilege of holding her and fondling her about that time. You can bet I was missing her very much all the way of the journey, and envied the mother of that little girl the feeling of the baby in her arms. How I longed for my own sweet punkin—and how empty where my arms for the need of her! So big grew the “lump,” and so high did it climb in my throat, that I was forced to tear my eyes and my thoughts from the baby across the aisle—to find solace in the peace of calm green vistas.
There was no real mail yesterday, but today I received your letters of 11th and 12th May and Jack N’s letters, which you forwarded.
Your concern with Harry’s criticism of your action in allowing that most kind sailor to give you and the punkin a lift is, in a word, unwarranted. Harry would do well to consider his own inconsistent ethics before presuming to criticize anyone else’s! If he really wants to know what I think of the whole business—here it is: In the first place, no man is so depraved that he will seek to take advantage of a woman with a baby and tow. Anyone who would think for a moment that the sailor offered you a lift under the circumstances with an ulterior motive in mind Is an out and out fool. As a matter-of-fact, under the circumstances, it would have been most unkind and unfeeling of you to refuse his offer because of any inherent distrust of strangers, or an instinctive impugning of unworthy intentions. Truth to tell, Chippie, I wish I knew where to get touch with that considerate sailor—I'd like to thank him.
I'm proud to know that Ethel “loved” the sweater you made for Stuart, and it was nice of her to gift Adele with that pinafore. But I don't get your point in drawing the pinafore in invisible ink. You wrote “it looks something like this,”—and then there's a blank space! Really, Baby, sometimes I just can't fathom you!
It certainly was swell of Fay and Morris to take Mom to Ethel’s and to bring you all home again. You may tender them my most heartfelt thanks for the kindness they have shown my dear ones.
The fact that you put on a few pounds, Chippie, certainly comes under the heading of good news. I most certainly would like to see you gain some more weight.
Don't jump at conclusions, Baby,—just because I don't tell you that I won at cards doesn't necessarily mean that I lost. It just means that I see no point in mentioning winnings that might very easily disappear at the very next “session.” It just so happens that I won about $20.00 on that particular night you mention—so there now!
Since nothing in your letter of the 12th calls for comment, and because it is just about “date time,”—and, therefore, bedtime, I’ll sign off now with all my love to my adorable Chippies, and to Mom, and to Harry and Goldie, and to all the Pallers. Tell Harry that I hold no brief with him—every man has a right to his own convictions— and I’d be the last one in the world to let our differences in this respect influence the brotherly affection I feel for him. The days of dislike and distrust and, yes, I'll admit it—disgust I felt for him are far, far in the past. He has proved himself to be a conscientious husband and son and brother, and I admire him for it, because I know, better than anyone, what he had to go through to attain that stature. God bless you all.
Yours, ever-lovingly,
Phil
May 23, 1944
Dearest Phil, h
Here I am again via v-mail. The weather made a decided change today from hot to cool. Since it was Gimbel Day and Sarah was spending the day in town, I decided to meet her when Adele napped and try to get myself a dress and sports shoes. Adele, by the way, was a model child today. She ate well, asked to “go” every time, didn't get into too much trouble and added many new words to her fast growing vocabulary. She now calls Betty “Betty” and says the word “hot” distinctly. She enunciates perfectly and even the “t” in hot is very clear. When I placed her in her bath last night, she said “Hot!” (The water was just a bit too warm). She pronounces “light” minus the “l”. She's inclined to be neat. I took her into Mrs. Frommer's this morning and a carpet was slightly messed. She bent to straighten it and even straightened the fringe properly. She was pulling the chairs in the dining room about and when I asked her what she did to the chairs she promptly replaced each one. All of which means less work for mother and which pleases me no end.
As I was saying, I put Adele to sleep at one and skipped into town. I met Sarah at exactly one-thirty at the shopped about. I almost bought a dress that had been reduced from $17 to $8. It was a pea green and brown paisley, very plain but very nice. The print was hard on the eyes and it made me hesitate, so much so that I decided against buying. We tried almost every shoe store on Chestnut St. and I couldn't get a nice pair of sport shoes. I wound up buying a pair of stockings, just so I wouldn't have to go home without a package. I did see one thing I would have loved to buy—a pair of earrings—$8. They were oblongs of aqua with small gold leaves and very, very pretty. If they still have them after I get my next check, I might splurge and buy them. I need so many other things that I can't see the sense to buying earrings right now.
I was back at 3:45. Adele awoke at three, Mom dressed her, Harry put her in the playpen and that's where she was when I walked in. She was so glad to see me! And especially with “Ar-ah”! She didn't know what to say! I finished my work early this morning, and honey, I'm ashamed to say that I did not mail off the packages as I promised. Tomorrow, come what may, I must go to Broad St. and the package will be on its way to you.
I had a letter from Eddie today with a picture enclosed. It's the same size as yours. He looks positively handsome and I could hardly believe it was he. I owe him a letter, which I hope to get off this evening. Last night, after mailing your letter, I managed to squeeze in a letter to Milt Brown.
Adele awoke many times during the night due to the heat. It's a good thing I napped with her yesterday or I would be “duped” this evening. Did you hear her call you?— she yelled “Daddy” all morning long! I keep telling her that Mommy loves Daddy and I kiss your picture to sort of make it clearer. Oh baby, how I would like to kiss you! Mommy loves Daddy so much!
I went to bed feeling very crampy last night and awoke during the night to find myself unwell. I didn't feel well all day yet I kept my promise by going to Ethel's with Gloria. Ruth wanted to get a dress (we weren't able to get anything Wednesday night) and we decided to try Frankford Ave. As soon as Adele was asleep, we left, Sarah having promised to dress her when she awoke. We took the “J” bus and exchanged to the 59 car. In between changes, we stopped at a few dress stores on Frankford Ave. where Ruth got a nice red, white and blue gingham dress for $8. I sent Ruth home to care for Adele and Glo and I went to Ethel's. We went to deliver the package Glo had brought for Stuart. We stayed about two hours, during which time Mickey showed us most of her wardrobe. Stuart is still ill and Ethel doesn't know what to make of it. It's over 10 days and the doctor insists there is nothing to worry about. He has a bad cold and runs a fever from time to time. I was supposed to take care of Stuart today as I told you, but naturally the whole thing was called off.
The ride to and from Ethel's made me terribly ill and nauseous. Phil, we must get a car someday or I shall be ill every time I must go somewhere. I can't stand the rocking sensation and it seems to get worse and worse. For a while there I was doing alright, but now I can't stand it at all. Ruth took Adele out while I was gone so that she would have her daily “airing.” When I got back, I managed to feed Adele and eat myself before I found it necessary to lie down. After a short rest, I felt a little better and got Adele to bed for the night. I still don't feel any better and I attribute most of it to my period.
Gloria took Mom to the Lindley to see a double feature and I didn't care to accompany them feeling the way I do. Mom, by the way, and I thought it best not to tell you, was very ill last month with a bad case of the grippe that kept us all on our toes. You know Mom—never fails to get a good cold each winter. She rushed the season by wearing a spring coat when it was too chilly. She has been fine of late. Goldie did the cooking and now helps Mom in the kitchen leaving her very little to do. Goldie does most of the shopping in the neighborhood. I usually do the “long range” shopping up to Broad Street, 11th St., etc.
Gloria’s short hair isn't as flattering as her long hair, but it is neat and easy to keep, which is just as important. She figured she'd do it while Jack was away to make it easier for her.
There isn't much else to say, sweet, except perhaps that Milt Brown won $400 in a crap game on New Guinea, which he sent home immediately for fear he would spend it in another game. Wonder how much he lost before he won that much? Keeping our date, honey, and hope that soon it will be for real. I adore you darling, and want very much to “demonstrate.” In the meantime, it's by the typewriter or pen (as you choose) —
Your Eve
21 May 1944
Dearest,
Couldn't write last night, 'cause I had a toothache that was too distracting to permit it. During the afternoon, the ache was negligible, but in the evening, it really began to hurt. I knew it was too late to catch the dentist in, so I called the hospital to find out what could be done. The assistant told me to come down and he’d think of something. So I hopped on my bike and rode down. The bothersome molar was the bottom left rear one. The cavity was hard to get at, at least too much so for the assistant’s capabilities. The ache was getting worse by the minute, and, to make matters worse, had brought on a splitting headache. I knew that if I didn't get relief somehow, I would be in for a terrible night. The assistant gave me six aspirins and a phenobarbital tablet and told me to take them all just before turning in. They knocked me out—but good! This morning I had one helluva time dragging myself out of bed. But the aches and pains were gone, thank God. At nine o'clock this morning, I went back to the dentist. He chipped away most of the tooth to see if it could be saved, but no soap—it was too far gone. So—I’m minus another molar. However, there is a bright side to the story. Do you remember, Sweet, that my “bite” was bad? That I could never quite get my front teeth to meet? Well, with the removal of this tooth I find I am able to close my jaws solidly, and that there is no longer that ungainly gap in front when I do so. Altogether, I'm happy about the whole thing.
Your V-mail of 13 May arrived yesterday, and that of the 15th arrived today. I had been looking for your letter of the 14th to inform me whether or not you and the Moms received my flowers on Mother's Day. But your letter of the 15th answers my questions on that score very nicely. You mention cutting the stems, putting a little salt in the water, etc etc.
Sorry that C.P. (Clair Pruett) is keeping you waiting for the pictures, but I can be patient now.
Glad to hear that Ed got his Cpl.’s rating. The son-of-a-gun owes me a letter.
Whatever happened to Ruth's letter containing the snaps? They are way overdue.
Not surprised to hear that Milt is in New Guinea—kinda figured he'd land there. Look for things to start popping down there now—what with Jack, Ben and Milt all there.
Seems like all you Moms fared O.K. on Mother’s Day. It was darn nice of Lil to remember Mom with a box of candy. I'm still waiting to hear from her. Why doesn't she write?
The Scarlet Fever injections you are so reluctant to impose on the punkin can wait, I think. I think your assertion that they make 99% of the kids sick, is exaggerated, and it really should be done, regardless, but don't let it worry you too much for the time being. Did you ask Doctor Gayl whether there was any point in giving her the “shots” in the summer time? I feel, as you do, that the Fall would be a more favorable time.
There isn't much of any kind of news around here, Chippie. Tonight the attraction at the Base Theater (just named “Thunderbolt Theater”), is Ann Miller in “Hey, Rookie!”—need I say more? Tomorrow, if the weather is clear, I intend to go to London. See you then, Sweet (wish I could change that “then” to “there.”)!
My deep and everlasting love to you, darling. A big hug for daddy's Adele—and my love to all.
Lovingly,
Your Phil
P.S. Just remembered to include a request for more candy. Do you need one for the pictures? If so—here it is—right here—>(request pictures)
May 21, 1944
My Sweet,
I still don't feel well. Headache and nausea have had me in their grip most of the day. I usually feel weak and crampy; this time, it's headache etc. I hope I feel better tomorrow. I hate to feel this way.
Today, nevertheless, was an interesting one. Ruth brought a British mariner, who will be 18 shortly, home to introduce him to the family. She met him on the subway and he didn't know his way about. We gave him a box of chocolates, a large box of ice cream, a glass of milk and cake. I even took a picture with him and Adele. Petey made several pictures of us, one of Glo with the baby, one of me, Adele and the mariner. He went for Ruth and took her to the movies this evening. He had many, many interesting stories to tell, and I was a most interested listener. He left his address, which is Cadet John Bingham Wheeler, Parkdale, Sedgley, S. Staffs, England. We gave Cadet Wheeler your address in the hope that he may contact you someday. He is a shrewd, intelligent fellow and I could scarcely believe he will be 18. He seems so much older and wiser. He said a few things that I didn't like. He said that his folks do not like Yanks, but that they had never met Yanks in the circumstances he had. He does not like the way our gov’t has sent so many Yanks to England. They, he went on to say, don't have enough to do, insufficient entertainment and therefore get into all sorts of trouble, especially with the girls. He thought it would be better if they had sent fewer, better trained men to do the job. He is very strong-minded and sort of reminds me of you in that respect. He comes from Birmingham.
Ben promised to get me a box of peanut chews and I secured it this morning. I'll mail them off tomorrow along with the pictures, sweet.
Adele called Gloria “doria” and then shortened it to “dah.” She pulled something the other day that surprised both Sarah and myself. Adele wanted Sarah to accompany us upstairs. When ready for bed, Sarah quietly said, “Well, I think I'll sneak out now to avert a fuss.” Adele came up with the big, “bye-bye” that shocked us all. I wonder if she knew what she was saying?
Gloria read us all your cleverly-written v-mail. You sure can be cute! She made the 7:30 train this evening. Gosh, but the weekend flew. Goldie's doctor called at the house today to examine her and save her the trouble of traveling downtown. He's very young and good looking. He thinks she'll hold out till June 9, the date he set.
I'm anxious to hit the hay in an effort to throw off this headache. If my letters seem a little dull I hope you'll understand. It's an effort to write it all. It's never an effort, though, to tell you how much I love you, my dearest hubby, and how I long to see and be with you. The mariner thinks, from personal observation and knowledge, that the war will last another two years. He was in a convoy to Murmansk and had plenty to say about it. We'll discuss it someday when you can disclose all you know—O.K.! Mind if I say I love you, sweetheart, just once more?
I worked a full day for Miss Hahn, my second full day this week. She is experiencing difficulty in securing another girl and is very anxious about it. She asked if I wouldn't kindly come in next Thursday and perhaps for a few hours on Tuesday, if it is at all possible. I didn't promise I would. I said I would if my mother could find the time to care for Adele.
In the meantime, the mailman brought your two bonds (Mar. and Apr.) and a nice long letter from Eddie. I think it takes about three weeks (the same amount of time that it takes for a check to arrive) for the bond to get here. I'll be able to judge with the next bond. Sweet, how many bonds do you think I'll receive before I receive you? Still think you'll see me in ’44? I know you won't, but I sincerely hope I'm wrong.
Gloria arrived early - alone. The plans for the trip to Washington fell through. Phil, Gloria had a glamour portrait made by Lorstan (a N.Y. photographer), an oil painting, and, Phil, you just ought to see that picture! First of all, they glamourized her - but good. She looks very much like Brenda Marshall. The picture is, in a word, gorgeous and far surpasses anything I've seen by Clair Pruett. Frankly, baby, I'm not so stuck on Pruett's work. He does nice work, but I've seen better, much better. If he (Lorstan) could make me look that good I'd be a more than willing customer. Gloria is wearing a white blouse with a large ruffled collar and a lovely pin at the deep v-neck, and a pair of white earrings. Her hair is styled unusually high in a pompadour effect, her ears showing, and the back of her hair is curled into a most becoming pageboy. She is leaning back slightly, looking upward, serious expression. Of course he put on false eyelashes, but it isn't that so much as the lovely coloring of the picture that makes for such attractiveness. Her picture, standing beside those made by Clair Pruett, makes our pictures look faded. Naturally, oil painting isn't a little coloring, so I shouldn't really make comparisons. Nevertheless, I would like you to see Glo’s picture. It's an 8 x 10, the total cost of which was but $3.50. It was an advertising stunt and would cost approximately $5 regular. Someday we must visit Lorstan.
Gloria bought Mom a pinafore and a housecoat for Mother's Day. The pinafore fitted nicely, but the housecoat was too small and will have to be exchanged. Gloria also brought along something for Stuart and we hope to pay Ethel a visit tomorrow. Stuart has been running a temperature all week and seems to have a good case of the grippe. It's unusual in one so young and has had Ethel on the go continually, leaving her worn and weary. Al can't stand to see her take it on the lam so much. I can just imagine how you would feel if you could see me some days. Adele, bless her little heart is work - real hard work. Parents pay a frightfully high price for the love of children, but it is worth it in the end - or so let us hope. Some have been disillusioned. I don't think we will be. So long for now, my darling, and now that we can stretch out in bed, would you mind moving a little closer to your
Adoring Eve
19 May 1944
My Sweet Evvie,
Last night, as you probably know from Mom’s letter, I was CQ. I took advantage of the opportunity to write that letter to Mom, which I have delayed so long. It was 11:30 before I finished and hit the sack immediately. My sleep was twice interrupted during the night. The first time the phone bell rang, it was one of our lieutenants calling from a nearby town to leave a message. This was about 12:30. At 2 o'clock. the insistent ringing of the phone bell roused me again. This time it was the motor pool dispatcher reporting a wreck, so I had to get Sgt. Yahner out of bed, too. After that I wasn't disturbed—’til 4:30, when the operator gave me a ring. It was now time to wake the K.P.’s. Before turning in again, I left word with the operator to give me a ring at 6. At that time I woke the company—switched on all the lights in the huts, and—still more sleepy than hungry, decided to pass up breakfast, which I never eat anyway, in favor of grabbing another snooze. So I crawled between the blankets once more—this time fully clothed. At eight o'clock Sgt. Murphy woke me. So you see, Chippie, you aren't the only one whose sleep is interrupted. Fortunately, I only catch CQ every tenth day or so.
There was very little to do in the Orderly Room today, luckily. I say “luckily” ’cause I didn't feel much like working, anyway—I was still sleepy.
This evening I saw “Song of Bernadette” at the Base Theater. It is a very moving story and a most absorbing picture. Jennifer Jones, in my estimation, is a most talented actress. The picture is of two-and-a-half hours duration, but contrary to what the critics say of it, I didn't feel that it dragged at any point.
When I returned from the movie, I proceeded to get shaved and cleaned up generally—something I couldn't find time for all day.
For the past two days now, I haven't had mail from you, Sweet. Yesterday, there was a letter from Limey. He had written it on the 10th and made the date for the 13th. I received it on the 18th. I don't know how he figured—unless he didn't know that three days is much too short a time to expect the letter to reach me. But I don't expect to be able to meet him in any case, much as I'd like to. He named Nottingham as the meeting place, and I would find it extremely difficult to get there on a twenty-four hour pass. I'll see if we can’t make some other arrangements.
Well, darling, it is just 11 o'clock—I love you, Baby—you're so sweet—. My love to the punkin and all the folks.
