4 September 1944
Dearest Sweetheart,
Just pulling out from under the pile of work, and hope to resume my old habit of writing every day now. Couldn’t write last night ’cause I had to straighten out my foot locker, barracks bags, and get my laundry ready. I haven't received any mail these past two days, so I think I’ll hunt out your last few letters and answer those. First, though, I'll tell you something of what I have been doing. Yesterday, Danner and I cleaned up what work remained on the war bond forms. In the afternoon, I wrote up the Company History, I've already told you how I occupied myself in the evening. Today, I turned in the war bond forms and the money to the Finance Dept. and typed up the History and took it down to HQ. This took up all my time today. "Melody Jim" is playing at the base theatre, so, although I had seen it a long time ago in London, I decided I'd like to see it again and went to the first show. It's a swell musical, and I enjoyed it none the less for the fact that it was the second time I was seeing it. After the show, I stopped in at the Aero club, had a coupla cheese sandwiches, a piece of cake, and a coupla cokes. Then I stopped in the lounge long enough to hear the 9 o'clock news on the radio. Evidently, the war over here is just about finished. The papers harp on the fact that the Wehrmacht is disorganised and depleted to the point where it is impossible for them to offer any real resistance to the mighty Allied Armies rolling in on them from all directions. I wish, sweet, that I could look forward to going home after the war over here is over, but I can't allow myself to build up my hopes that way. You see, we have no inkling where we are going from here once the nazis are licked. As long as Japan remains to be beaten, we must consider the possibility that the unit, of which I am a part, may be called on to help in the Pacific theatre. If such an eventuality does come to pass, Chippie, I shall expect you to be as brave and patient as you have been heretofore, so that I may continue to be proud of you. Understand, darling, I am in no way intimating that that is what will happen. I only tell you this to cushion the shock and to prepare you for another period of waiting should I ship to the Pacific Theatre. I've learned to take these things calmly, realizing that railing against the fates can in no way get me home any sooner. Let us continue to hope, then, that I will come home after the war in Europe is finished, but to keep in mind that it must not necessarily be so.
Sorry, Sweet, but it is almost time for lights out, and I won't get to answer your letters after all. Tomorrow, I expect I'll have more time. I'll try to write a real "longie" then. Until then—Au revoir, my lovely. Remember, dearest, you are hardly ever out of my thoughts. I adore you. My best love to the cheesecake and to all the folks. I am
Your loving husband,
Phil
Your loving husband,
Phil
