Post #346 - April 19, 1944 Our Daughter, Honey, is the Wildest, Roughest, Toughest, Two-Gun Kid I Ever Saw

 

April 19, 1944 

My dearest, 

The mail brought your sweet letter of April 10, the one in which you end off "wanting" me so. I have noticed increasing signs of my desire for you physically and you seem to be in the same position. You blamed it on the Spring night. That, plus a long time “without", seems to be having its effects on us. Man, what I wouldn't do to you right this minute! I'm saving it all up for the big day, which, I hope and pray, isn't too far in the future. I love you and want you so much, Phil! 

Just had to get that off my chest and it makes for a good start. Then you went on to say how meaningless and insignificant everything that happens to you is and how that feeling has increased with the coming of Spring. I, too, have been experiencing such feelings and I keep wondering, time and again, how much longer it will be this way. I'm so heartsick and lonely for you that I could fly straight across the ocean in one large swoop for the privilege of clasping you to me. Spring, beautiful Spring - phooie! 

 

The latter part of your letter deals with your response to my anniversary letter. I thought you sort of contradicted yourself on the sentimentalist situation. You said you didn't follow my reasoning that the Army made a sentimentalist out of you and that you wouldn't argue the point feeling I probably was right and that if you were it was due to catering to me in this direction. You then quoted me in connection with the surprising way you presented me with my first anniversary gift, and could not understand why I didn’t expect it of you. Silly, you admitted that you got that way catering to me, not to mention the Army, and then you want to know why I was surprised. I didn't at that time (and I'm hoping for a repeat performance on another anniversary), think you had it in you, but I guess you showed me, baby. 

Our daughter, honey, is the wildest, roughest, toughest, two-gun kid I ever saw. Well, she's not really that way or that bad, but she is more so than any of the other kids I know. But I’m ahead of myself. I want to tell you about last night first. 

As I told you in yesterday's v-mail, I spent the evening at Dot’s, making the trip mainly to pick up the wool she had purchased for me some time hence. I took "Kings Row" along with me and finished it. Adele was extremely difficult and it was late when I left the house. Adele will not go to sleep unless her “momma" is nearby. I left at 8 and walked along Rockland St. I missed a bus and decided to walk on to the subway. It was a cool evening and I enjoyed the walk, my thoughts being some odd 3000 miles away with my dearly beloved, who, I am quite sure, was fast asleep., I wore my blue wool dress with the dubonnet velvet collar, my dubonnet shoes and bag, dubonnet scarf and my beige sports coat. My sister gave me a large dubonnet velvet bow to wear in my hair. My blue dress has suddenly become very snug and one of the seams burst. Snuff noted this and said, "Look out, kid, you're getting fat!" I think it's the dress. I gave it to the cheap tailors and most everything shrinks a bit these days due to the inferior cleaning fluids. 

I made good time, getting to the front door at precisely 8:45. Dot was alone, reading an excellent book called “Mrs. Heaton’s Daughter.” She told me a great deal about the story and let me read the more interesting passages. Shortly afterward Marcelle dropped in, then Snuff, with Shrimp (some combination), who was in on his first furlough since his entrance into the Army some five odd months ago. Then came Dot's Aunt and father, the last of the company. We talked and had refreshments and I had a thoroughly enjoyable time, leaving at 12, with Snuff to accompany me to the el.

I seated myself in the el and proceeded to read my book. I took up my reading again on the subway. Suddenly I became nauseous and had an almost uncontrollable urge to expectorate. I damn near fainted trying to control myself. All the while I forced my thoughts to you and our love. This sort of did the trick and my head cleared somewhat. I could scarcely wait til I got into the air to catch the Somerville bus at Broad and Allegheny. I guess I shouldn't read on moving vehicles for it does effect me that way. I felt much better once on the bus and didn't mind the short walk to the house. I hit the hay quickly and Adele obliged by sleeping through the night, with the exception of one interruption.

The wool is very nice and I haven't decided on a style or stitch just yet for any of the three. I know Adele’s will both be "button down the front" since she has two pullovers, the pink one and the peach angora I made some time ago. It came in hanks and I did some fancy rolling to get it all into neat balls of wool. Let you know more about this when I decide myself. I don't want anything exceptionally fancy. 

My period is late again (first time since you left) and I never do feel well when it drags. 

l completed my housework and spent most of the after noon at Anne’s. We kept the kids on the porch in the sun and looked after them. Adele only insisted on getting Richy into a stranglehold, throwing him over, pushing him around and whatnot. She crept behind one of the porch chairs and fell before I caught her, cutting her lip with her teeth. Shortly after I cleaned her up she banged her head on the stone of the porch. She doesn't walk - she runs. I can't trust her for a second alone, while both Dot and Anne think nothing of letting the kids walk beside them down the street. I wouldn't dare do that with Adele for she'd be in God's Country before I batted an eyelash. Phil if only you knew what a sore pain your absence leaves, especially in that connection. Phil, dear, I won't argue that she isn't good company but sometimes I wonder if it's all worth it, alone. There are too many suggestions from too many people on the "hows" and whys and wherefors. At least if you were here I wouldn't be so "tied down". I’m beginning to hate that more than anything. People 

can't help commenting, "You have your entire family around you and yet you're so tied down". Besides this Adele has developed a habit of screaming at the 

very top of her lungs if I do not stay in the bedroom til she has fallen asleep. I don't mind this devoted attachment, but it has some definitely bad points. If, perchance, I should not be here to put her to sleep, as in the case of Stuart's briss, she drives. everyone plain crazy. It's just like everything else, sweet, too much is not good. I've been dying to get into town for the past month to do a bit of shopping. No one would think of offering to care for her for a few hours when I suggest such a thing, unless I took it upon myself to force her upon them. My Mom takes care of her when I work and has to stay with my grandmother in the evening. Even my dad stayed on one occasion. Ruth gets paid a high price and takes care of kids almost daily, besides working at the 5 and 10. I've tried to amuse myself with dozens of things, but there are times when I feel it necessary for my peace of mind and health to get away from the house for a few hours. I know Mom isn't strong enough to care for Adele nor Goldie in a position to do so and I haven't the heart to force anyone to do anything. I love my baby and home above everything, except, of course, you, sweet, and, no doubt, if you were here, I wouldn't even care to go out, yet being in the house too much is like being in camp too much. Perhaps this will give you a clearer picture of why I want to return to work, if only for a short time, Tonight Adele started that infernal screaming shortly after I had placed her in bed - and I let her scream til she screamed herself to sleep. I always looked forward to that part of the day when Adele was freshly bathed, in her sleepers, and ready for bed, so that I might cuddle and love her and give vent to my feelings for her. However, I'll be darn if I'll put up with her actions if I cannot be present til she is sound asleep. I never liked it in In any other child and certainly not in my daughter. 

Boy, I'm in a talkative mood this evening - shore nuff! And all in one letter! My mother is washing our clothes this, evening and I've got to lend a hand. Sorry, sweet, but I think I shall have to cut this short??? You don't think I've said enough? Well, and just for good measure, I'll tell you once more what I've always told you and always will tell you, - that I love you very dearly and hope that soon you will return to

Your Eve

Post #345 - April 18, 1944 Dr. Gayl’s House is Being Converted to a Synagogue, of All Things and We have Moved to Another Station Here in England

 

April 18, 2014 

Phil, darling, 

I'm reading an excellent book and have to force myself to put it down. It is even more absorbing than the movie picture version. The book, "King's Row" belongs to Betty and I borrowed it last night. I'm more than half through it already! When I got to the part where Parris and his childhood sweetheart Rene go to their "secret lake", undress as they have always been accustomed to doing, intending to take a swim, but something “got” them and before they knew It they had possessed each other (both virgins hitherto), she only 15, he 18. I got an odd and unprecedented surge of memory, remembering vividly a somewhat similar night on Chestnut Street. I wished very much that you were here, for It put me in a similar mood. That book is really sumpin' and I don't mean maybe. I've always wanted to read it and am glad Betty owns It. 

I saw Dot and the baby unexpectedly this afternoon. She was visiting her Aunt, who has a beauty parlor at 4924 N. 5th St., and called me shortly after her arrival. She had her hair done and looked very well. I had intended going out to Dottie’s tomorrow evening for the wool, thinking my mother would wash tonight and would need my help. However, she is not going to wash this evening, so I think I'll make tho trip tonight. Sure do wish you were going along, sweet! 

 

Adele had a very restful night and didn't wake up at all. After giving me such a hectic time the previous night she probably thought it over and decided It would be better to sleep ( I hope). I told you yesterday that she was too attached to her milk-drinking and hasn't been eating at all. I got her away from the milk alright and she is eating well, but now she doesn’t want much "wow-wow". Babies is the craziest people!

The weather has improved and while it is still quite chilly It's a lot better than rain. The lawns and shrubbery are blooming - a definite sign that spring is here. I don't think there will be anyone to trim the lawns this year. Moses is in the Army. 

I must hurry If I'm to get out to Dot’s early so you'll have to excuse me if I seem to cut this short. I might mention that Dr. Gayl's house is being converted to a synagogue, of all things. 

I love you, baby, and am keeping that date at 5 faithfully. wish I could bestow the enclosed kiss personally, but since that can not be you will have to accept It as is, plus a warm caress from 

Your Eve 

18 April 1944 

Darling Chippie, 

It is now permitted me to tell you that we have moved to another station here in England. Other than that, I can tell you nothing. I might add that the space is much the same as the one we left, except that it is much larger. We are close to a few fairly large towns, one of which I hope to visit tonight on the Liberty Run. The Liberty Run, since you say you have no idea of what the term means (I thought it was fairly obvious) is a convoy of trucks that takes the fellows into town of an evening and brings them back to Camp a few hours later. 

Before I go any further, Sweet, I think I’d better tell you why I didn't write last night. The simple truth—it took me all night to read and reread your voluminous mail, which came through in a bunch as follows: 31 Mar—1-2-3-4-?-6-7-8-9-Apr.16-17-21-25-26 Mar.!! All of these are typewritten, and most of them are four pages long; so you see, Chippie, you are a victim of your own munificence. If you hadn't written so much and so often, I would probably have found time to write last night. It may be some small compensation to you to know that I was very happy reading all that mail. You haven't lost that knack of writing exactly as you speak, Baby, and I had the sensation of listening to your voice, talking to me; telling me all the latest news, the doings of the punkin, etc., etc. Almost forgot to tell you that there was also a letter from Jack N., in which he tells me how happy he and Lenny were for three whole days during which they ate, slept and dined together, and some of the other things they did for amusement. He was all thrilled to pieces by this sudden arrival and visit of Lenny’s (literally dropped from the sky), but you probably know more about it by now. He, (Jack) answered my letter within the hour of receiving it, so I reciprocated by sending off four of these sheets in like manner. I mentioned your suggestion of a (Jack, Lenny, Phil) alliance just to get his reaction. You wanted to know what I thought of the idea, Sweet, so I'll try to oblige. It may not have occured to you that aside from the financial angle, I have very little to contribute to such a partnership. My knowledge of photography is confined to the bare fundamentals and unless we are able to start off on a big scale, they will have very little need of an “inside man.” If I had some experience of selling in this line, I might serve a purpose—but I haven't, so, all boiled down, I will be little more use to the “firm” than an apprentice at the trade. That wouldn't be fair to Jack or Lenny, who will do the bulk of the work only to divide the profits with a third party, whose intrinsic value is about the $15.00 a week you might have to pay any apprentice. Still, there are other things to consider that might make the deal plausible, but which I won't go into at this time. It may surprise you to know, Chippie, that I had given the proposition much thought before you ever mentioned it—and the more I think about it—the better I like it. Let’s hope it will all happen someday. 

We are comfortably settled here at our new base, and I think I'm going to like it here; especially when the warmer weather comes ’round, 'cause we are situated on fairly high ground and the country hereabouts is most attractive. I'll try to describe some of it from time to time. It might help if you would let me know what you were interested in or curious about. 

There is very little news to impart at this time, Chippie, since my routine is much the same. Red says to send the shirt, khaki ties, and khaki caps as is, unless they are very dirty, in which case you might have them cleaned. We are bunk mates again. Klein surprised me just now by telling me he had made a foot-locker for me. He even took the trouble to paint it! Klein’s a good kid and I like him, in spite of his wildness. He's constantly getting into hot water, but somehow manages to emerge invariably with a whole skin. He isn't nearly as “thick” as he pretends to be, either, he's just clever enough to give that impression. He knows some of the “Vyse Ave. gang” in New York—something I learned only a few weeks ago. He's only 19 years old, but has had more adventures (and misadventures) than the average guy three times his age. Some of his stories are downright fascinating, and I've played around with the idea of writing a book based on his few but hectic years. Klein is a willing speaker an I am his best audience and a most patient listener, so I know his history almost in its entirety. Maybe, someday when I have time on my hands—. 

I’ve more or less subconsciously refrained from answering your stack of letters, which I have laying at my elbow. I glance at the pile occasionally as I write, knowing I should do something about them, but it's so imposing a stack that I instinctively shrink from the task. Up ’til now, I've been idly wondering what the hell to do about them, and probing the back of my mind for the means to dispose of them in some way that wouldn't entail too much brain cudgeling on my part. Truly, Sweet, there is enough material in that pile to furnish the inspiration for a score of letters—but where would I find the time to write them? So—I'll do the next best thing—I'll answer the questions that have to be answered and skip the comments (as far as I am able). The following sentences will be each an answer to a question you have put. If they don’t “hang together,” you'll understand why. 

No, Sweet, I don't blame you for driving in the “next shoe buying spree” for the punkin—not if you have to knock yourself out so completely in the process. How often do you have to go through all that? If Ed's mail gets home in five days, maybe mine will, too, from this base. That “baby jewelry” of your mother’s should look very nice on Adele. Be very sure she can't pull the ring off. If you get a chain for the locket, I think it would be a good idea to run it through a safety pin attached on or under the back of her collar so that she won't be able to remove it. The chocolates reached me in good shape (don't let that deter you). Please, Chippie, stop worrying about what's liable to happen to me in London. There really is no cause for concern. I wish I knew what to tell you to reassure you. I don't “overlook” anything you write dear, it's just that you don't make yourself sufficiently clear at times. I knew that Gloria gave you a hat that would go well with your fur coat, and I knew you only had enough to trim a hat, but what has all this got to do with my suggestions as to how to use the fur for another hat? Or are two hats so unheard of? When I asked when Goldie’s newcomer was expected, I was aware that you had already told me, but you mustn't be too critical of my inability to remember—not everyone has your talent for that sort of thing. When I said that I didn't understand your assertion that “we need to furnish a house,” I forgot to take your proclivities and inclinations for “long-range planning” into consideration. That's a perfect example of how differently we think about such things—surprised? I always think of such things in the connection that we must have them now, or we don't need them now. You, on the other hand, think that if we ought to have them now—or someday, that we need them. I can readily understand why you I understand why you were so shocked and indignant at my attitude in this respect. After all, how could you appreciate that I was preoccupied solely with the present “needs,” while you are so engrossed in future or “all-time” needs? Anything I have is Jack N’s for the asking—if I can possibly spare it without depriving my family. You should know that without asking. C-O-M-P-O-B-O-A-R-D—right! Yes, dearest one, “everything new and modern for the next one—how will you have it, male or female? I sent no “snap” of any fellow. The one you have was probably stuck in with my letter by the censor by mistake. Please send it back to me. No, I've never seen a O-u-i-j-a Board, but I know what it is. Ask Harry or Mom about the “Ouija board” predictions, we got out of a plain wooden table. You’re getting absent-minded, Sweet; I received two unsigned letters from you within as many weeks. That last day of March was certainly a bad one for you, Ev, and I don't wonder, you were disgusted. Please curb the “rough-housing” tendencies of the boys when they play with the punkin. Next time we may not be so lucky. If, God forbid, she is ever hurt badly, I would find it very hard to forgive you. One expects cuts and bruises from time to time where a baby is concerned—it is unavoidable, but I am in a constant fret lest she come to some great harm. I'm trying to reassure myself that you are taking every precaution in this direction and I'd appreciate it if you would confirm this. Yes, I did say I see you in ’44—what's more, I still believe it! I know what I’d do when the punkin refuses to eat, but I'm sure you know much more about the subject than I—and I wouldn't want to prejudice you by telling you what I would do. I don't know why it bothers you so—if it doesn't her. I figure she'll eat without coaxing if she's really hungry. If she isn't, why feed her? To hell with “what people say!” There! I told you anyhow. What is this? Are you getting bashful—or what? This letter (31, 1, 2) is concluded: “with a big hug and kiss from   ”?? Now I remember—you did give those things to Pete, didn't you? Forget it—I'll get along with what I have. Forgive me if I seemed to forget to mention your birthday on your birthday. You see, I tried to time my birthday greeting to reach you on your birthday. Can I help it if the PO isn't dependable? Wish you wouldn't make such a fuss over that alleged “poetry” I write from time to time. Some day you are apt to show it to a party that's “hep”—and you'll learn what I already know—that it's corny and almost entirely devoid of merit. I hate to see you disillusioned and embarrassed on this account—therefore my request (remember?) that you keep these things to yourself. They are written for your edification and for no other reason. If you are undiscriminating or prejudiced enough to like them, then they have served their purpose and I am content with the fruits of my labor. Betty and those other “admirers” of my little effort don't know a helluva lot about poetry if they thought that was good, and I hope you aren't naive to the extent that you foresaw any other reaction on their part. Naturally, rather than hurt you in the least by deprecating it, they'll go to the other extreme, and praise it to the skies so that you will be that much prouder of “your Phil.” Learn to judge things for yourself, Sweet, 'cause others will only tell you, if they like you—(and who doesn't)—what they think you would be pleased to hear. Sorry I can't oblige by saying “okay, go to work.” You must be cognizant of my opinion in the matter by now. I certainly wrote plenty about it in the past few weeks. However, if you think I'm not justified in my stand, I'd like to know why you think so. If you think you can convince me that you are right, and I wrong—go ahead, I'm listening. On the 4th April you start off by saying it just struck me that I could tell you more about the “briss.” Whereupon, you promptly proceed to inform me that you wore your gray suit, white blouse, etc. and that everyone wanted to know where you got the new beaver coat. Thanks, dearest one, for telling me more about the “briss.” (You’re cute—no kiddin’—I’m still laughing). Where on earth did Gloria ever get that idea about a “sheery, sexy nightie and gown set?”—“to start off on the right foot”—no less! What do I think? I think if she as much as raises her dress an inch above her knee when Jack gets back, she better run for cover (bed cover) or else keep a baseball bat handy to beat him off with. As for me—well, you know me, kid—anytime, anyplace, anyhow and we've never needed a nighty before—sheery, sexy nightie, indeed! humph!! I'm insulted you didn't tell her off right then and there. What kind of “bad days”—what kind? Have you been fooling me? That calls for a lot of explanation, dear, and it better be good! About that “devilish” writing—I'm squelched, but completely—and deeply mortified that no one, (not even you —how could you?) appreciates it. Take it from me (and I know) I'm at my best when I write in that vein, and I'm desolated that no one approves. Oh well, such is life— one disillusionment after another—and if you think I'm kidding, then you don't know me. Don't ever call me “doll” “(as Harry would say)”—that's one appellation that really makes me squirm. Pfc. H. Wyman's new address duly noted—I'll write soon. In the next paragraph, you pulled a real boner, Chippie. You tell me about receiving a letter from Jack S. and then in a letter to Goldie he said “the way I feel now I could knock out a dozen kids.” Wait ’til Gloria hears about this! Wrong, Chippie, Frigidaire isn't “one of the best on the market”—it is the best. Yes, I liked the cookies—so did everyone else. They just adored them. I got four (4)—no more, no less. Yes, I can use and am using the underwear. Yes, the candy was in good condition—when I got it. (You should have seen it about ten minutes later!) You are eminently correct in supposing that 5¢ bars are a great favorite with me. If you send nothing else, I'll be content. Keep ’em comin’, Sweet! Interesting—I mean about Adele “dub-bing in” those words she doesn't know. No, Faye’s brother isn't at this base, and I don't see how I can contact him. I'm going to find it very difficult, if not impossible, to meet Eddie or Limey—even if I do know where they are. You say Adele is 33 inches tall now. Seems to me that's pretty tall for a baby her age. Now I am anxious to see her next pictures. The last ones of her were taken in October, if I remember correctly. That was almost six months ago. No, I think Wolpe made those proofs around Christmas, didn't he? Still she must look much differently by now. What color are her eyes now, Sweet? Are they still changing color? No, Sweet, I don't believe in jumping the gun by forwarding congratulations in advance—not for a new baby, anyhow. Plenty of time for that after I know that everything has come out (no pun intended) all O.K. I'm not as wrong as you try to make me out about Phil. I'm only wrong in assuming that he hasn't changed. I understand now, but he has—amazingly. I wrote to him a few days ago. This just about “answers” all your mail, Chippie—I don't think you have any complaint on that score, eh? I neglected to say I started this on the 18th and held it over to complete it on the 19th. I won't forget to say that I love you very much, my darling, and would give much to tell you so again in person rather than through the medium of pen and ink. My love to the punkin and all my dear ones. 

As ever, 

Your Phil 

18th of April, 1944

Dear Phil,

Received your letter of April 11th and I'm very glad to hear from you. Don't know whether we can meet, but as I said before, I can meet you in Bristol. And expressing your thanks for the anniversary present, I want to say that it really wasn't much of a sacrifice and furthermore it was a pleasure to send it. 

Eve writes sometimes and says all is fine and well and that she hears from you pretty often. 

Haven't dropped a line to your brother Jack yet, but I'm doing so right after this letter. Glad to hear he's doing fine and hope it's always that way. A few weeks ago I saw a U.S.O. show which was pretty good. Saw some pictures and putting everything together, not having such a bad time. 

Included in the envelope is two articles about this fellow Taylor I met while I was home. Making himself some name! 

I am fine and about the only thing I really have to put up with is this April weather. I’m still looking for some of the spring weather. How about it? 

Sorry, I slipped up on writing and I will drop you a line constantly. I hope you are enjoying good health and feeling fine. 

That's about all from this chunk of the E.T.O., so till I hear from you! 

sincerely yours, 

Ed 

 

GIVES UP HIS MASK TO SAVE CREWMAN 

Second Lieutenant Mayer Taylor, 25, of 4944 N. 8th st., pilot of the Flying Fortress "Round Trip," risked death in a raid over Frankfurt, Germany, to save his gunner's life. While flying over his target, Taylor doffed his gas mask and used it to rescue the gunner, Sergeant Joseph F. Karpinski, 20, of Wilmington, Del., who had lost his own mask. 

Later Taylor noticed that his bombardier also was without a mask and knowing that men thus unprotected have died at such altitudes, he descended to a lower altitude for the rest of the trip back home. 

Lieut. Taylor, son of Mr. and Mrs, Herman Taylor, already had received the Air Medal for meritorious achievement while participating in five operational raids. 

The Olney High graduate was in business with his father at 1413 Columbia av. before joining the Army on February 28, 1941. He was in the 57th Coast Artillery, but after a year's service in Hawaii he was transferred to the Air Force and was graduated from the bombardier school at Roswell, N. M. 

A brother, Sidney S. an aviation cadet, is now at Beloit College, and another brother, Jack A., is at Camp Stewart, Ga. 

Post #344 - April 17, 1944 Did I Tell You That Adele Swaggers When She Walks? and A Long Letter from Jack Nerenberg

 

April 17, 1944

Phil, dearest, 

I had a letter from Eddie today stating that the $10 was a birthday gift. He said he had completely forgotten our anniversary and that I should consider the gift as an anniversary-birthday gift. 

I had a terrible night with Adele. She got up no less than 12 times to “wet” and wanted to be changed on each occasion. I never did get to sleep till 8 A.M. and, sweet, I just couldn't get up this morning. That, coupled with the fact that I'm “overdue,” has left me in a pretty tired state. Adele seems to get worse and worse instead of improving. I’m the only one that has such troubles, in fact, none of the girls have had any trouble that way. I always was lucky??? when it comes to taking life easy. Oh well, I guess better days are coming (I hope). 

Mickey and Rae visited here last night and we chatted about one thing and another over tea and cake. Rae is looking exceptionally well lately—thinner and younger looking. 

Phil has a ten day furlough and he and Emma are making the rounds to their various friends and relatives. They expect to spend a few days at the shore. 

Mr. Frommer is back home and you’d never know he’d been through so much. He looks grand. He always asks about you, sweet. 

Did I tell you that Adele swaggers when she walks? She swings her left arm to and fro and looks like she's going to “take off” like a plane. I tried a new system with her feeding this evening. I've noticed that she and “wow-wow,” (milk) are inseparable. She yells for milk first thing and then can’t eat. Tonight I let her yell and yell and yell—but—she ate her entire meal and then drank her milk—without a whit of persuasion. Now that is sumpin’!! 

I started to type this letter at 5 P.M., so I'll give you one guess as to where my thoughts were. In case my air-mail letter of yesterday is late in arriving, I wish to inform you that I mailed off the proofs of our pictures with the consent of the C. P. Studios. 

Fay and I took a walk with the kids and did some shopping at the A&P on Fifth Street. When we got back we sat on the front steps and had chocolate ice-cream cones—jealous? You can have mine, sweet. 

Right now my mind is a blank, but there is one subject that I can always write about—my love and adoration for you, my Phil. No matter how much I say it, write it, think it or talk about it, I can't get over how much stronger it gets with each passing day. Sorry, honey, that I couldn't fill each teeny space, but if you think there's room, I'll squeeze in 

Your Eve

April 17, 1944 

Dear Evelyn, 

I've been vainly awaiting your letter. I can only surmise that it, or my last to you, has gone astray. In the interim, I received a heartwarming five long pages of interpretation from the heart of the pen of Phil. Never shall he, nor you, nor I in any words, be able to describe the wonder that is our friendship. However, that's hardly necessary for each of us three knows the joy derived from its warmth and sincerity. 

Just a few moments ago I reread the letter, finding even more in it than the times I've read it before. I would make mention of some of its points, but they can be done justice only as a complete reading, so I'll skip it rather than try brevity, I do hope you understand. 

And now I shall go on to write that “news” letter to both you and Phil. 

Before starting that, I should like to ask how you all are. Goldie? What's the score there? The Little Princess? You? Mom? Your family? Jack? Harry? Gloria? 

Please write and give me the dope and take for yourself and yours my love and wishes for your well being. 

As ever, 

Jackie 

April 17, 1944 

Dear Phil and Ev, 

At long lingering last, by the light of the barracks bulbs, in sight of the falling snow that Camp Hale is host to, and in sound of the four feet distant dominoes that change chance to money, I'm about to take off on a pencycle, to coin a word, if you will? 

First off, I should like to begin by telling you about my recent “furlough.” I was extremely fortunate in being the only one in my company to garner a three day pass for Passover (Friday, Apr. 7 to Sunday the 9th). Eleven P.M. of the ninth found me pleased to be informed that a snowslide at Loveland Pass between Denver and Camp Hale had stopped all road travel. It wasn't until 1:00 A.M. Wednesday that I started back. The queue that had formed for the one and only bus of Tuesday (in the morning) found me conveniently at its end, to be informed that the bus was full. Nary a word of recrimination emitted from C.O., merely phrases of envy from fellow G.I.’s. 

Those were five lovely days. A Seder at a Jewish home,  a woman of Mom’s kindness, whose presence kept me a-tingle in a paradoxically pleasant-sad frame of mind. The next Seder at a beautiful dining room in a modern Jewish home for children, they to us, as we to them, a welcome change. Following that, a party for seven of us at the home of a Jewish girl and six of her friends. Truly, I enjoyed the boys’ company just as much as the girls, pretty and nice as they were. Sunday found all fourteen of us together again at reformed Jewish services in a lavish synagogue, which were followed by luncheon, entertainment, and dancing in the spacious “downstairs” of the synagogue. Four o’clock, dancing’s end decided us to one of the girl’s houses. She's well to do, and the spread she offered and wine she served, furthered the indication offered by the finished basement with juke box. Girls wearing dresses, boys, Jewish to the core, homes, synagogues, trees with with lawn, me in the midst, what more could I ask? I didn't, but the good Lord gave me two more days in Denver. I U.S.O.’d the afternoons away, but spent both evenings single dating with one of the girls. The other boys had returned to nearby camps. I recaptured a bit of New York in a visit to Denver's “Algerian,” a nightclub of moderate entertainment, nicely done up. 

To be continued

Well, here's another day. Lights out and various and sundry interruptions caused me to defer till now the recapitulation of recent occurrences in the life of yours truly, now, being 10:25 A.M. of Wednesday. The door of my darkroom is locked and I am all caught up. So what better than to write ditto now, even though I am a little tired due to overindulgence last night in bowling, wine-drinking and dancing, and I do mean dancing. Some Wac and I were giving out with the bopping to the swing times of one of the swell bands we have here. On returning to my own barracks, after a six block walk from the newer of the two beautiful service clubs here, I found that my parka head covering had (to be conservative, I swear I'm underestimating) one inch of snow on it, the mirror reflecting a nun-like appearance. 

Now to continue from where I think I left off, (I don't have the beginning of this letter here) 

Testing to see if I can write on this side too. Abcdefghijklmnopqrstuvwxyz. O.K, not too— Nope! No good.

What I wanted to get across in reference to the night club is that the dance band was perfect and the girl and I really had a time. Her name is Bertha Gordon. Her dancing is just fair, but her 5'2” figure is perfect. We cabbed to her home at 11:00 P.M. and reluctantly I started my return to Hale, after hours of waiting for the bus. 

Now as to what’s the score with Pvt. N., it tallies thusly. 10–0 favor the army:

I am doing photography. My work has been commended. But I can't get a rating. My own company has no use for me. Eng. Bd. does but is powerless in getting a rate for me. It seemed for a while that I would be transferred to Station Complement due to my hearing, but A.R. #? or Port of Overseas Replacement circular #? says nothing about deafness in 2nd Army troops, so Second Army won't release me. The last I heard, even Station Complement has no rating for me. So what the hell! I've a good job, anyway. 

Yesterday, for the first time in months I went on sick call about my hearing. I say first time in months because as I think of it, I’ve been on real sick call once since I'm in the army as a result of fever at Louisiana, from an injection. I don't count the times I went for my hearing or for a twisted knee and ankle or a badly mauled pinky, all of which healed perfectly. Thank God, I seem to be quite physically well fit. 

Getting back to yesterday, I was given an audiometer test. The only reason I haven't been given one before is that this half-ass captain that left yesterday or the day before, just didn't give a damn about me or a thousand others. The new officers seem very efficient, to say nothing of surprised at how poor my hearing is. I shall return Friday for a repeat audio test (this is to nullify malingerers). Then when the two tests compare exactly as they must except in case of instrumental failure, I shall probably see some action. 

I think I have mentioned to you that otosclerosis seems to be my trouble. An operation is being perfected wherein a surgeon drills a hole through the bone growth (which causes this defect, while suturing a hearing nerve) to allow for sound to pass through that wouldn't be ample for causing the skull to send its vibrations to the inner ear. The hole would admit the sound, you see, which in itself would cause the inner ear to pick it up, I hope. 

In the telling of all this, it hardly seems like much. Maybe it isn't. But at times it has gotten me down, yet at other times, I just don't give a damn, especially when I'm off duty on a pass. 

Well kids, I must stop now. I’ve left out the best news of all. Sammy, according to Sonia, is almost his old self again. 

Something else. I've averaged at least a staff sarge’s pay by making pictures for the boys. So here's a fiver, Phil. Gamble it away or win Evvie a new spring suit. 

My love to you all. 

Ss ever, 

Jackie R

April 17, 1944. 

Dear Phil:

How are you? I received your letter of April eighth and I was very glad to hear from you. You wanted to know why I dropped French, well, in the first place it wasn't French, it was Spanish. It can be included in my course, but I didn't want to take it because it won't be as helpful to me as the subjects I am now taking. I'm not going to be optimistic about this report because the work has become much harder and these teachers are not going to be as easy as they were with the marks in the first report. I doubt if I'll make the honor roll, but I know that I will pass everything. The course I'm taking is supposed to fit me for the position of a bookkeeper. I got a letter from Harry Weinman Saturday and he's also stationed in England. I'm sending you his address and when you get a chance, write to him. He may be near you and maybe you would be able to meet him. His address is as follows. 

Pfc. Harry Weinman 
33,072,683
Co. D.–507. Par. Inf. 
A.P.O. 514 - C/O P. M. 
New York, N.Y. 

That's about all for now. 

Love and kisses (105) 

Ruth 

Post #343 - April 15, 16, 1944 My Grandmother Actually Handed Adele a Five Dollar Bill this Afternoon and Don’t I Wish You Could Send Along One of Ben’s Malteds with You Attached!

 

April 15, 1944

 

Dear Sweetness, 

I have the consent of the C. P. Studios to forward the proofs to you, but they must be returned for I have a $7 deposit and would loose it. Personally, I think the whole batch "stink". You asked for it and here it is! I like the full face of me and the serious one of Adele, if you wonder at my selections. I also like the smiling one, but think her features are too distorted. She threw her head back to laugh and he caught it too soon. I had expected a great deal of Clair Pruett and can't help feeling disappointed. Of course, they are only proofs and will look better when made up, but, nevertheless, I can't help feeling disappointed. I'm glad I can send them along for I wouldn't know what to select and feel better knowing that you can see them. What do you think, sweet? I told you my hair wouldn't look well and it doesn't. If Adele hadn't acted up I would have had ample time to brush it well and give it some extra fluffiness. It was set well and a little more attention would have done the trick. Also, I think there is a noticeable “tired look" about my eyes that tends to make me look much older. He should have fixed my blouse, too. I forgot to mention that Mr. Pruett, himself, made the pictures. That "not serious, not smiling" proof of Adele shows to advantage what à "dead ringer" Adele is of her daddy. You know, Phil, the more I look 'em over the better I like them. Oh hell if only you were here - then I'd know! I'm leaving it all up to you. 

Most people I've shown the proofs either go for the dead serious or the smiling one - according to their particular taste. I like the serious one best of all for she looks more like she does in person. The other two make her look too chubby. Please, Phil, return these proofs immediately for they said they will not make up the pictures til I return the proofs. I can't wait to learn your reactions. 

April 16, 1944 

I was very weary and hit the hay at 9:30 last night, hoping you wouldn't mind if I continued on this today. I just can't seem to force myself or my body as I used to do when Adele was first born. I must rest when I'm tired and I'm sure you understand your ever lovin! spouse's good intentions. 

I've gazed at the proofs many more times today and get to like them more and more after each look. I don’t know what the hell I expected. 

My mind is so full of proofs, pictures, etc. that I can think of nothing else. You will probably get the same impression that I and everyone else got—that Adele looks at least three years old in the pictures. All babies look older on pictures and I don't know why. 

Phil, do you remember saying that pictures failed to capture a certain quality that you saw in me? Well, that's how I feel about Adele's pictures. I think she's much prettier personally. 

I asked whether it was possible to change my order, since I had not ordered from the proofs and I think it can be arranged. As you know I ordered two 8X10's and two 5X7’s, all in color, a large and small of each of us, cost, $17.40. If you have other ideas, let me know. I was thinking of cancelling the 8x10 in color of me, since I do not like my pictures. Someday I'd like to have an 8x10 in color of you, Adele and myself and can't see the sense to ordering so many 8X10’s of Adele and myself now. I did think I would frame the two larger pictures in a double frame, but we'd have too many pictures standing about the house and I don't like that at all. Don't I sound mixed up? Gosh, I sure do hope you get it.

 

I'm writing this during Adele's nap and will finish this evening. We've had nothing but rain for the past two days and it's beginning to clear. I think I'm going to take Adele out this afternoon even if the sun doesn't come out. She sleeps better when she has an airing. She slept til 7:30 this morning, after an unusually restful night. 

I brought her down in her sleepers and gave her breakfast, which consisted of a glass of orange juice, an egg and a glass of milk. I also break a slice of American cheese into little pieces and sprinkle them across the tray of the hichair. Adele picks up each piece carefully and jams it into her mouth. She loves "chiz". I had breakfast while Adele played with the covers of several jars. I had pressed most of the day 

and let the ironing board stand til this morning so that I could press some of Adele's things that I had washed last night. After having my breakfast I proceeded to press. Then Adele and I went next door to visit the Harnicks, who had beckoned from the kitchen window. We stayed a few minutes, back home through the porch window and upstairs to get dressed. Adele is wearing white blouse, peach angora sweater and royal blue overalls. Adele goes downstairs into the playpen while "momma" dresses, cleans the bedroom, etc. It is now time for Adele's lunch. After lunch Adele makes a "sis", helps me undress her and off to dreamland. Momma then has lunch and here she is right now. 

It is now evening and I have just finish getting Adele into bed for the night. Pardon the double spacing, dear, but in the interim I found time to caught up somewhat on my lagging correspondence, by writing to Gloria, Syd and Jack N. and I used double spacing on Syd's letter and forgot to change the regulator. 

Phil, I know you won't believe this, but my grandmother actually handed Adele a five dollar bill this afternoon. It didn't clear up til 4 o’clock and I had Adele out for an hour, at which time I stopped at my mother's and the above mentioned miracle took place. I can't get over it. She is supposed to move next week and keeps postponing it. She knows darn well that she'll never be treated as well as she was treated here. She'll undoubtedly move before the month is out and while I thought I would return to work immediately after, I feel it best to give my mother an opportunity to get the house more orderly. So you see, sweet, my returning to work is still a thing of the future, one that I shall take advantage of when the time is ripe. 

Tante Bosh was telling me that an airline company is proposing weekend trips from Philly to England at a cost of $50. Where she heard this and whether it is true remains to be seen and I couldn't help wondering what you thought of it. Would you agree to my taking such a trip? I think I know you answer and I heartily disagree. I would make such a trip if it were at all possible. I think it would kill me to pass up such an opportunity. (Food for thought, isn't it, sweet?) Personally, I think it's a lot of poppycock. 

I'd like to write on, baby, but it is almost nine and since. I want these proofs to reach you in record time I've simply got to get this letter posted. What do you think of your wife and daughter, sweet? Most everyone mentioned that I look very Italian. Italian, Jewish, whatever I may be, wherever I am or may be I love you very dearly and will always be your devoted 

Chippie

15 April 1944

Dearest Eve,

Tonight I am starting this with the intention of making it a “running letter” (to take a page out of your book). The reason I'm doing this is that there is a show on the base at 8:30 and I want to catch it. I have about a half-hour to spare in which I will tell you what little there is to tell of today.

To begin with, I received no fresh mail, so I still have only your letters of 21,25-26, 29 March to answer. This morning was rather dull as I had very little to do. We gave the Orderly Room, a good scrubbing, but an hour later, you’d never know we had put a mop to it. Guys kept tracking in mud. Tomorrow we'll have to do it all over again. After lunch I flopped on my bunk to relax till 1:00 o'clock. Next thing I knew, I looked at my watch and it said 4:30. I had relaxed right through the afternoon. Luckily, Sgt. Murphy didn't need me for anything, else he would have come looking for me.

After supper, Red and I strolled over to the Aero Club to see what was cooking for tonight. We found out about the show tonight. While we were at it, we had some chocolate cake and coffee. Red isn't going to the show 'cause he has a flock of letters to answer. We just had our showers; I divided a Milky Way with him. He's settling down to write—and I'm about to quit for the time being. Tomorrow, in addition to reporting on the show, I hope to answer those three letters. Until then, my Sweet, I leave you with a hug and a kiss. The same for the punkin.

16 April/44

Hello again darling; you're looking lovely this evening. Whaddya mean “how do I know?”—don’t you always?

The show was put on by some British entertainers, which is the same as saying it was pretty corny. As the performance progressed, the guys started to dribble out the exit. By the time it was half over, half the audience had vanished. It was pretty poor, but it is against my principles to walk out on people who, after all, went to a great deal of trouble and expense to try to give us an evening's entertainment. And they did try. No one can deny that the fault lies in our widely diversant ideas of entertainment, but they couldn't help that, either. So, although the show is poor by our standards, I stuck it out with a handful of men that remained to the bitter end. I would have felt myself an ungrateful and ill-mannered dog if I hadn’t. It was almost 11 o'clock when I got back to the hut, and by the time I had undressed (in the dark) and rolled between the blankets, it was time to keep our date. I was thinking I would like to change the locale to my easy chair—I'm much more comfortable there—and you can sit on my lap as you used to do—okay, Chippie? Of course, I'll continue to keep our tryst on the bench until I know you are aware of the “switch.”

This morning, sho’ nuff, we went to work on the floor again. This time we kept a close watch to prevent a recurrence of yesterday's fiasco. After lunch I had some paperwork to do and it took most of the afternoon. It is now 5:30—and I’m looking my eyes out for the mail. I'm not hungry this evening (I think the chicken we had for lunch ruined my appetite), so I'm passing up supper.

And now to answering those letters of yours!

Yours of the 21st was a “shorty,” and aside from the paragraph about Seymour's present (for which you may convey my thanks also), and that item about Ben expecting to see our Jack “real soon,” there is really nothing that requires comment. Not so your “longie” of 25-26 March, however—that'll take a lot of answering.

First, thanks a million for the “Oh Henry's,” the chocolates, etc. I'll be looking for them most eagerly. Thank Ruthie for getting them—I know it isn't easy these days. Hint: I sure would like to have those Peanut Chews, Chippie. I'll try to remember to tack a request onto the tail of this letter. On second thought, I won't take a chance. I'll put it at the head—right now.

Glad you enjoyed “Thousands Cheer,” Sweet. I knew it was the type of picture you could really enjoy. My regards to Fay (and don't I wish you could send along one of Ben’s Malted’s “with (you) attached”)! It was good of you to think of me at the time, Baby—that's something, anyhow. That Orange, Cherry-pecan ice cream sure does sound “out of this world.” Tell Ben to save some for me.

That blouse Gloria gifted you with sounds like the sort of thing I love to see you in. Bet it’s just the thing to compliment your gray suit—isn't it? Gloria is certainly full of surprises.

At last, the details on Stuart (I like that spelling better) Chase. Seems to me, I “guessed” a boy for Ethel, didn't I? I'll get off a congratulatory letter at first opportunity.

I'm waiting to see those “snaps” that Ruth and Sy took of you and Adele. Do I get em?

Your purchase of a bottle of Brilliantine came as a coincidence. Red got himself a big bottle of it and uses it like a ******. I've been giving him “the works” on account of it. Red is like Yale in that respect, if’n you know what I mean. He drives me nuts with his fastidiousness. Sometimes, when I'm waiting on him to go to a movie or sump’n, he’ll primp and fuss in front of the mirror for a half-hour. Funny how a guy as masculine as he is can still have a typically feminine trait like that!

Too bad about Herby Miller. I think he would have much preferred the Army to that terrific accident, had he had the choice. My regards to him and Lena.

Your next paragraph has me in a “dither.” It's about you're going to work for your Dad's boss. I’ll grant you, Sweet, it's an ideal set-up as far as jobs go, and I hate to throw cold water on your ambitions, but the fundamental reasons for my refusing to sanction it when you first mentioned it, still hold true, and I therefore can’t see my way clear to changing my mind. Sorry, Baby, but as I pointed out in my last discourse on the subject, the difference of a few hundred dollars won't make any material difference in our aspiration's to those “duplex apartments”—and you have so much to lose by attempting to gain, what, after all, is peanuts compared to the issues at stake. I sincerely hope I've convinced you of the inadvisability of what you are intending, Sweet, 'cause I would certainly hate to see you persist in your notion.

The mystery of Hal Chase’s appearance on the same bill with Jane Withers is cleared up, but I still don't understand why you couldn't see him. Was it because there was no one to stay with Adele, or didn't you just feel like going, or were you too busy with something else?

Your paragraph on Adele gives me a new conception of her. I'm intrigued by your assertion that she gets jealous if you don't pay strict attention to her. What I would very much like to know is just how does she evidence that jealousy?—And you were so set against “spoiling” her. Already we have a vain woman on our hands— but then, if she weren't vain, she wouldn't be a female, would she? I'm not surprised that she is as she is. I'm just curious to know how she shows her femininity.

I don’t doubt that Natalie's new bedroom suite is as lovely as you say. I like to think that there will come a day when we will do as much for Adele Bara, bless her little head.

God grant your prayer that I'll be with you by your next birthday—fulfillment, my darling. My prayer is far more ambitious. My dearest love to you and the punkin. My love to all.

Devotedly,

Your Phil

P.S. Tomorrow: Ans. yours of 24th March.

P.S. Pplease send the candy.