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..
The first thing early this morning, the phone rang. Can you imagine how Goldie felt, when upon picking up the receiver, she heard Uncle Nish exclaim, "Syd is back in the States at a port of embarkation and will be home within a week." Gosh, it makes me chill all the way through! He was overseas 31 months - and I wonder how long we shall have to wait for that happy day. I wouldn't want it as Syd has taken it - so it may be a long time. The Browns are so excited they can't contain themselves and I don't blame them one bit. I feel just as happy as they do about the whole thing.
I had started a letter to Milt last night and did not get the chance finish, so I finished off with the good news this morning. I am writing this before going into work, as I doubt whether I'll have the opportunity to write this evening, as I want to pack and give myself some attention in preparation for my trip to New York tomorrow. I'm glad that Syd didn't decide to come this very weekend, for then I would have had to postpone my trip. I want to go with the gang to see him.
By the way, honey, Sylvia tells me that two of her father's bonds, which were supposed to reach him through the mails went lost. Both your Nov. and Dec. bonds are overdue (they were never quite so late before, except at the beginning) and I'm inclined to believe they are lost, for I've heard of several cases within the past few days. I think it would be easier for you to check since you must have some receipt for your payment, but if you would like me to write, kindly advise. I hope that your mail to me hasn't gone lost too, but it could well be the cause for such a lengthy delay. I guess you remember about how many times you wrote during Dec. so let me know, for I have only received about ten letters with Dec. dating. Perhaps the mail will have something to offer today.
Adele's supposed cold has completely disappeared, so it looks very much like I am going to New York, honey. I can't get too excited about it somehow though it is going to a big change and that's what I need most. I shall try to write at least once from New York and if I do not get the opportunity I trust you will understand. Most travel is being cut down and I doubt if most anyone will be able to do any traveling in the future. I haven't any intentions of going anywhere after this, unless I go with you.
Today is brother Jack's birthday, in case you might have forgotten. I’m going to write him a letter and wish him well. I set my hair and got to bed early last night and feel rested today. I intend to do the same this evening. And now I am going to try to get that letter off to Jack. I hope there's mail for me this morning, as it would help my spirits a lot. I love you so much, sweet, and it's so hard to wait indefinitely for some word from you. I miss you sweetheart, and I especially miss the mail that brings
something of you directly to me.
Your Eve
12 Jan. 1945
My Darling,
Just got back from seeing “Janie,” and have just about enough time to dash off a quick V-mail to you. I enjoyed “Janie” very much indeed - just as you did, Honey. Joyce Reynolds is just about the cutest and freshest young thing to hit the screen in a long time, and if ever I saw a natural-born actress, she is just that! Her kid sister was the real hit of the picture with most of the guys, but you know me when I like something or someone; I just can’t see anything or anyone else at the same time - and I liked “Janie!” Right from the start, I felt that I had seen Joyce Reynolds before, but knowing that I hadn’t I was puzzled to account for the feeling. Then, it suddenly occurred to me that she is almost a “dead ringer” for Joan Leslie - at least her smile is almost identical - that’s why she looked familiar. But enough of this—
Today brought me a pile of mail, and it sure is a glorious feeling! There were five of your letters, one from Dotty (plus a midget Bulletin) and a Xmas card from Gloria. I’m about six or seven letters behind in answering your letters, Sweet, but I’ll certainly catch up day after tomorrow when I will write all day (as I did once before in October). I’ll also write to everyone else who has been good enough to drop me a line occasionally. You may expect a real “longie” on the 14th, Baby.
I finished the payroll this morning, and knocked out the “Bond Insurance Schedules” and a few other things in the afternoon. I went to the movie with Klein, who just returned from furlough. And what a furlough!! Chippie, you’d never believe the things that happen to that guy! But it’s time to say good night now, darling, and that I do - with all my love to you and the punkin and all.
No mail whatever, though I had been expecting a belated jackpot after waiting all this time except a lone card from Gloria giving me her phone number and telling me that she will meet me anytime after one when I arrive in New York on Saturday.
Last night, I threw Adele in bed early and though she was awake, I made up my mind to visit Miriam and see the new baby. First I went to the Wymans to pick up the four boxes of candy Rae ordered for me and that I am supposed to take along with me to distribute to those I visit in New York and from there on Al drove Ethel, Rae and me over to the Browns. Mom stayed upstairs with Adele until she fell asleep, so she was no trouble to anyone. Rae and Ethel had not intended going unless Ai drove, as it was freezing out. We got to the Browns house at 9:30 and Sylvia was there, beside the regular Brown family. Miriam doesn't look well at all and it is only a wonder when you consider her strenuous routine. She has to feed the baby everythree hours, cause the baby is terribly hungry all the time. Anita Rae is an enormous baby, and has nice features. She is the image of Mickey and I can't help wonder at the way most first babies look like their daddies. I had asked Tant what I should give her as a gift and she advised cash, so I gave her $5. I also gave her a box of candy. Do you know, sweet, that Mickey made out a Class E allotment for Miriam and she receives $30 additional dollars each month! Every single one of the girls gets anywhere from $30 to $40 per month additional allotment that I know of, and the husbands are no more than Cpls. I realize fully that you have more opportunity than they do in their present state to spend money, but when you admit that you are broke and in the hole, as you did not so long ago, I really can't help wondering why so much of your salary disappears so quickly. Now that you no longer have the opportunity to take extended trips such as those to see Ed and Harry. I trust that you will be able to manage on your salary.
After seeing Anita and all her gifts we went down to the kitchen and had some coffee and cake and got to talking about old times, etc. Al drove Sylvia and me home and I didn't get to bed until about one o'clock. Adele seemed hoarsy during the night and I was afraid she had a cold. Today, however, she was much improved and I rubbed her down with Vicks before putting her to bed this evening. I almost didn't get to go to New York and unless Adele is all well I may not go. It doesn't seem likely though, for she has good resistance.
0ur gas bill for the previous month of Dec. was $43. Mom can't get over it! It's only a wonder - we run our heat as high as 80 to keep the back room warm enough for Diana. We’ve never had such a large bill!
I’m so disgusted with the mall situation that I could scream! Let's hope I'll get something tomorrow, for I'd hate to go to New York without getting any more mail whatever. Good night baby. I love you dearly in spite of all! I wish very much that you were going with me to N.Y.
Your Eve
11 Jan. 1945
Dearest Evvie,
I just finished work for the day, and decided to make today’s contribution a quick V-mail so that I may catch the second performance of the U.S.O. show on the base tonight.
Was busy all day making up the pay-roll, and in the afternoon received your V-mall of 30 Dec, in which you tell of the punkin's rapidly expanding vocabulary. I particularly liked her answer when you asked her to repeat something she had already said. The little minx has a head on her shoulders - no doubt about it!
Glad to learn that you, at least, are keeping up with your correspondence, 'cause I’m way behind in mine. Currently, I owe letters to almost everyone. On the other hand, I have yet to hear from brother Jack, whom I wrote ’way back in October. At any rate, I've definitely decided to write to everyone in a day or two when I am taking my regular 48-hour "break.”
The weather has been very cold these past few days, and it has been snowing every few hours. The landscape is blanketed in just enough snow to cover everything, which isn't exactly an unwelcome change - one gets so tired with the sameness of the scene that any change is by way of being a novelty.
Otherwise, there is very little to report, sweetheart, so I’ll sign off now with my dearest love to my precious wife and daughter. God keep you both well for your adoring
Phil
P.S. Love to all.
11 Jan. 1945
Dearest Darling
Tonight I am C.Q., but while I have plenty of time to write, two factors keep me from knocking out a letter to you - hence the V-mail. (1) I've had a splitting headache all day today. (2) There was no mail. As you know, Sweet, it's very rarely that I am bothered with a headache, and I don’t rightly know the reason for it, unless it is the forerunner of a cold, but it sure did give me hell all day, and it’s still so distracting that I can barely think rationally. I’ve taken a coupla Anacin tablets, and am hoping that by tomorrow it will be gone with any further ill effects.
I was busy all day working with Capt. Crane on personnel records, but it was a real effort to keep my mind on what I was doing.
I've built a nice, hot fire in the stove, and as soon as I finish this I will call the operator to give me a ring at five o'clock, and hit the sack.
Sorry, Baby, that I can't make better use of this opportunity to write, but I know you will understand that I can't help myself, that I would do better if I could. Please forgive
Eve dear, I received your letter of the 20th and I was very happy to hear from you. You don’t write very often, but when you do, you write a very interesting letter, full of news of people I am interested in hearing about. I just want you to know that your letters are very much appreciated by me.
During Hanuka, I attended an affair given by the Jewish people of this city. It was really swell. There was plenty to eat, and drink. They had sandwiches, cake, strudel, champagne, etc. A grand time was had by all.
Everything is about the same. I’m still M.P.ing, feeling swell, and very happy. I hope that this year sees the end of the War, and the safe return of all.
Keep well, and keep writing.
Love,
Eddie
Jan. 10, 1945
My dearest Phil,
I didn't write yesterday, for it was too late and I was too tired to attempt writing. Yesterday I received three letters, yours of Dec. 13th (which, incidentally you dated Nov. 13th and I can't understand why you made such a mistake) along with Ev’s letter and a lovely letter from Shirley and Yale.
Your letter explained your visit with the Woolfs and the oyster episode, which made very good reading. I'm very happy, Sweet, that you find the Woolf's such good company and that they relieve many hours that would otherwise be very lonely for you. Ev’s letter, too, made good reading, as you must know, having read it. I shall try to write her another letter in the near future.
There was one thing in your letter that hurt me very deeply. You mentioned that you had not written from the 9th to the 13th, and in your letter of Dec. 27th, received the other day, you also mentioned that you had not written for several days. Is it any wonder I haven't been receiving any mail? If you, who have but one job, cannot find time to write for three and four days at a time, then what should I, who have three jobs to do, and I do not say this for any reason of self-pity, should be able to write to you regularly. Phil, the answer is this; I have to give up an evening of fun, recreation, or whatever you choose to call it, even relaxation, to make darn sure I get that daily letter off to you. Even when it means loss of sleep, as it so often does since Adele has gotten into the practice of going to sleep at late hours, I have sat up and managed to write practically daily. I'm not going to do that anymore, and I do not say that to hurt you. You thanked me for writing šo regularly in your Dec. 27th letter, but that isn't enough for me. Ever hear the phrase that "action speaks louder than words". Well, pay heed. If you had to wait three weeks for some decent word from me, you'd be plenty mad too, and whenever I did want to skip writing, I thought to myself, "how will he feel if he has to wait many days for a letter from me" and then I wrote, regardless. I'm just wondering how many days you skipped between the 15th and 23rd of Dec. for I have yet to receive any mail of those dates. The mailman has not yet arrived and I am typing this before going into work, so we shall see. So much for letter writing -
The letter from Yale and Shirley disclosed what I mentioned in an earlier letter - that Shirley is pregnant. They both want a son. In this letter they paid us a very high compliment, to wit: Yale and I think Adele is the prettiest baby we ever saw and Yale thinks she is much prettier than Barbara was at her age - and you must know that is something coming from Yale. I do consider it a high compliment and am duly flattered, and I know you will, too. I'll bet that makes your chest swell up -
Later - The mail for me included letters from Milt, which was a real longie and one which I should like for you to read, and an equally nice letter from Snuff, who, by the way, wonders if you got his letter since no reply has been forthcoming. Snuff said he was glad I wasn't one of those "I owe you a letter correspondents" and said that that fact made him realize even more what true friends we are. He has thrumboplebitis, or a blood clot formed in his leg that caused it to swell and swell and the only way to correct the condition was to operate and tie up the veins. He told me this on the side - he's terribly worried that it doesn't occur in another part of his body and thereby necessitate another operation. Just room to say that I adore you, darling and am
After waiting for ages to get a letter dated after Dec. 9th, and finally getting two on Saturday dated the 14 and 15 Dec., today the mail became crazier still for I received your letter of Dec. 27th. How about that! Also received a letter from Jack N. (which I shall try to remember to enclose with my next air mail letter) stating that he will be staying with Sammy and Anne in Brooklyn and that he wants me to stay there while in New York. He still has dizzy effects from the operation, which was of major importance. He said he came around faster than the usual patient, who usually has vomiting spells. He has yet to vomit, and Thanks God for that. He said he put "the" particular ear to the radio to try to hear sound and that he heard just a wee bit. That isn't important - the important thing is that he "hears", even though it is just a wee bit.
I'm sorry you didn't get the opportunity to write more often during the holidays, but you're excused, honey. That K.P. sounded like a honey and I certainly wish you'd get your Sgt. stripe so that it wouldn't be necessary any more. And what did you mean when you said you'd be referring to Sgt. Murphy in another connection? I didn't get the significance of that remark. Or didn't you mean anything at all?
I guess the guests for dinner thought you were nuts when you passed up the chicken and turkey in favor of tomato herring. I think you're nuts too. I had no idea you were that fond of tomato herring.
I stopped at Lit Brothers on my way to work and returned the pair of white gloves I bought on Saturday. I didn't think they were worth $3 at all. The copper ones are very nice, and go with my other accessories perfectly. I can't get over how nicely the sweater and hat for Diana turned out. It is a beautiful set and Goldie is crazy about it. By the way, I certainly hope you get the opportunity to write directly to her to thank her for the letter.
Last night I dashed over to the yarn shop and bought some beige wool to make Paul the vest I had been promising to make for a long, long time. It’s really a very belated birthday gift - but better late than never. While there I noted that she gives instructions for the making of those crocheted handbags and even sells the materials, so that's the next item on my "make" list. I am going to make myself a black corduroy bag and get myself a pair of dressy black shoes with a low heel, so that I'll be able to wear my black velvet suit. I am unable to wear it cause I don't have the proper accessories. I am also going to make Adele a pair of mittens, if and when I get around to "making".
And so, baby, I find myself completely out of words. Adele gets smarter every day and constantly surprises us with her expressions. She’s as cute as ever! Gosh but I wish you could see her! There'll come a day!! I love you so much, my dearest - or had you guessed as much -
Your Eve
8 January 1945
Dearest Chippie,
Seems like it's getting increasingly difficult for me to write daily anymore - at least I notice that my lapses are becoming more and more frequent. I feel rather guilty on this score, Baby, although these fallings from grace are rarely voluntary. It's knowing that you write consistently even when you have just as much justification for not writing as I have that causes me to squirm whenever I miss writing - whatever the reason. My only consolation at these times, Chippie, is the hope that you understand and forgive these lapses, however eagerly you await my letters. I've been busy every minute of every day for more than a week now. When I’m not actually doing anything it is only because I'm thinking about what I must do next. I know you would be amazed, darling, at the amount of detail I am responsible for. There is a feeling extant among the uninitiated (and this even applies to the majority of men in my company) that the company clerk has a “soft touch". As far as they know, all I do is make out the payroll each month. They think that I sit around and twiddle my thumbs the rest of the time - that I have just about the easiest job in the Army, and never hesitate to throw it up to me. There was a time when I would defend myself against this sort of criticism, but I'm so weary of the prejudices, pettiness, and general ignorance of these characters, that I no longer bother to explain that quite a lot is expected of me, and that I try to do what is expected of me the best I know how. As you know, Sweet, our company is made up, in the main, of mechanics of one sort or another. There are Automotive Mechanics, Armament (guns) Men, Ammunitions men, etc. Naturally, being mechanics, and working with their hands and muscles, they have the mechanics’ instinctive contempt for a guy who holds a desk job, nor do they make any effort to conceal their distaste or inherent dislike for me on that account. Knowing the basis for this attitude as I do, I can almost forgive them the things they say and do that are calculated to hurt - and do, but not quite, 'cause I, in turn, have nothing but contempt for anyone so intolerant or prejudiced or unfeeling that he takes pleasure in tearing down another guy cause he don't happen to be a mechanic. I've tried my best to overlook all this, Chippie, and God knows I have enough to feel bitter about without having to contend with this ridicule from my own "buddies." Nothing angers me more than to have anyone look down their nose at me, and it would be hard for me to explain how deeply it hurts when I am made aware that one of the fellows is doing just that. I've tried everything I know [short of sheer back-slapping (the Army has a cruder term for it) and hypocrisy] to make friends in the company, but despite my best efforts in that direction, I can't truly feel that I have made more than a few friends who would go from here to the corner for me. I prefer to believe that this is due to the fact that I am the company clerk, but I know now that there is at least one more factor involved (which shouldn't take too much imagination on your part to guess), and that of course, is mainly why I feel badly about it. Nothing overt has, as yet, been voiced in my presence, but I have it from the best authority that such is the case. Altogether, it isn't an easy situation I find myself in, and I think you can appreciate how I feel about all this, but I guess I've been in the Army long enough to put up with any aggravations, both of the body and the mind, and if you'll permit me to go melodramatic on you for an instant) - of the heart. I remember that I promised myself a long time ago that I would refrain from any temptation to air my own private griefs to you, and really, Sweet, I don't know how or why I ever brought it up, but there it is, and because it is almost time for lights out, and therefore much too late to tear this up and write another letter, and because I hate to let this day go by without writing to you, I have decided to let this go through. I can only beg your indulgence, Baby, and your forgiveness for bringing to your attention a matter which is, after all, my own private problem. My best and dearest love to you, my darling (you'll never know in how many ways you’ve been my salvation), and to our adorable Adele, bless her little head! My love to all.
This morning, immediately upon arising, I noted a heavy snow over all. Adele got all excited and said, "Mommy don't forget to put my yoshes on". She got me up early and I accomplished quite a bit this morning. I cleaned our room and straightened every drawer, taking out those belongings of Adele's that have become too small. After lunch I had to go to Mr. First's to do some typing for him and I shovelled the front enough to make a path. By the time I got back, Adele was up, so I dressed her, brought her down and started this.
Here's some news: Yale and Shirley are expecting the stork in July. I was kidding Jack S. in the last letter I wrote to him and said perhaps we’d give him a run for his money when it came to having a little boy. (and whatever you do - don't get any ideas). Who knows??????????
I did some shopping yesterday after work and bought myself two pairs of gloves - a pair of white fabric gloves for dress that cost $3 and a pair of copper colored gloves to match my bag and oxfords that cost $2.25. When I got home I found that the white gloves were damaged, so I will have to return them tomorrow,
(Goldie and Mom are after Adele, making her say that she wants "a baby broder") and I can't help laughing. Tain't funny, McGee.
Well, honey, next week in this time I’ll be in New York. I may not get the opportunity to write while I'm there, so if there is a slight holdup in my mail you’ll understand why. I am going to catch a one or two o'clock train after work on Saturday (I want to collect my pay before I go) and expect to catch an 11 o’clock train on Monday morning, and go straight to work. I don't want to lose the extra day, for I don't feel that I'll accomplish anything much or be able to do anything much on Monday. I may stay all day Monday, but that remains to be seen. I know one thing - I shall enjoy being able to sleep to whatever hour I choose (I hope). I wonder if I'll ever be able to sleep to whatever hour I choose?!
Today I am wearing an aqua sloppy joe sweater that Ruth loaned me, but I don't think you'd particularly like me in a sloppy joe. I am also wearing my brown slacks. I like to lounge??? in slacks on my day off?????
I really intended to write a "longie" today, but, somehow, I just can't think of enough to say, so I decided to do this instead. Well, baby mine, it will soon be 18 months since I've seen you and God only knows how much longer we will have to wait. Syd Brown is unattached at the present, so I guess he’ll be home most any day now. In closing, let me tell you once more, darling, that I love you very, very much and I want you so much! Adele calls you “Daddy Philip" and sends her love, a hug and many kisses. She's so darn cuddly that you'd just about eat her up. I shall positively have her picture made when I return from N.Y.
Today's mail brought me six letters, and a Xmas card from Ruth, and I don't have to tell you that it is only an event of this nature that has the power to instill a feeling of happiness in me, While I'm reading your letters, Sweet, I'm almost at peace with the world. Believe me, it's a distinct let-down for me when I have finished reading and I pick up the old hum-drum routine where I have left off! You still haven't lost that trick of writing just as you would speak, and the impression I get while reading your letters is more like listening than reading. When I read the last few words it is just as if you had stopped talking. You say, darling, in one of your letters, that you hardly remember what I look like. Be that as it may, I find that I can’t say the same where you are concerned. I not only remember very well what you look like, I remember everything about you. (Perhaps too well!) I remember the fragrance of you, or rather, three separate fragrances about you. The first is that unaccountable “baby smell" about you in your early morning drowsiness, Remember how I used to remark about it? The second is your "afternoon aroma.” This odor I identified as a conglomeration of powder, lipstick, rouge, and the fragrance of a freshly pressed blouse, slip, or what have you. The third is your “going out”, which, if you remember, was wont to bewitch me and intoxicate my senses (if I may call my animal impulses by that name) to such a degree, that on a few occasions it proved a cause for embarrassment (yours). Remember, Chippie? But what I started to say was - I remember everything about you, so that when I “listen” to your letters, I hear your voice. Maybe you see nothing strange or wonderful in this phenomenon, Baby. You may consider it, in fact, entirely natural. Why, then, is it only your letters “speak” to me, and no one else’s? At this rate, though, I won't get any of your letters answered, and because nothing of particular interest happened to me today, I'll get right after it.—Four of the six letters were yours, Baby. They are those of 6 Dec., 7 Dec., 8 Dec., and your “longie” of 9-10 Dec. The other two were a very nice letter from Clara Wagman, and an exciting V-mail from Milt Brown. I’m dying to know exactly where he is, but I just can't place him by anything he has written. I must try to get letters off to both him and Clara. Incidentally, Ev, I've fallen behind in my correspondence again, and I'm seriously considering resorting to the expedient of spending my next 48-hour pass right here on the base in order to catch up with it. My regular routine day allows me time for no more than your letter, so you can readily understand why this is the only way. I may not have time to answer all your letters tonight, honey, but I'll do what I can ’til "lights out"
Your letter of the 6th tells about Abe Feinberg's duplicity in the matter of your mother's estate. There's a jerk for you! Then, a few paragraphs about Eddie's reluctance to have you visit him. I think I know exactly why he has adopted this attitude, Chippie, and I'm surprised that you even wonder about it. Surely, my letters about him should give you a pretty good idea for his conduct. I hope, Sweet, that by the time this reaches you, that you will have seen him and that it will all come clear for you. I was glad to learn that Goldie is giving you a hand more frequently with the household chores.
In your letter of the 7th you enclosed that "chunky" pin-up girl, and stated that you "Sure do wish I looked like that!" Who ya kiddin’, honey? You know damned well that I don't go for that type of figure - that, as a matter of fact, your own slim lines suit me right down to the ground, and are much preferred to the ones you appear to envy. I say "appear,” ’cause you don't fool me for a minute, Chippie. You were fishing for compliment - and caught it, and I hope your feminine vanity is gratified. If it isn't - well, we're pretty young yet, and I still have a coupla thousand words on the subject up my sleeve - so just have patience, Baby, and they'll be forthcoming. With this pleasant thought, I'm afraid I must sign off for the time being. I'll continue answering your letters tomorrow. ’Bye now, sweetheart. My love to the punkin - and all.
More than ever— Your Phil
January 6, 1945
Dear Phil,
Each time I write to you after I’ve visited your home, I say to myself I’ll make this one a super special letter, because you do need cheering up. Hell, man, I’m the guy that needs the cheering up. You know Phil, it would be hell for you to come and then have to go away again, because it’s almost that for me. If I were you I wouldn’t.
Phil, you’ve something real to return to. If everyone were in your position there never would be another war, ’cause when they came back for good they’d always be happy.
I’ve seen the punkin’. She’s all girl. I mean that were her hair parted and combed like a boy’s and were she to wear trousers and such, she still couldn’t pass as a boy. She already has that definite a feminine personality that it’s amazing. My heart bleeds for you chum, for having had this period of her life only through Evelyn’s eyes, even though you do have the most wonderful substitute.
Still I can’t help but repeat that when you do resume your real life you will be loaded with happiness and the bubble will never burst, but make of itself, amoeba like, smaller ones.
Evelyn is doing grandly, too, Phil. She looks and feels swell, and is sustained by your constant presence, when certain things like her friends tough luck try to wear her down. She believes in you so implicitly, you are indeed to be complimented as is she for being your inspiration.
Your Mom was just swell to me as always. She’s a wonderful woman, Phil. She’s holding up very nicely under a terrific burden, and don’t you for a second lose sight of that. Somehow I feel I am being superfluous, ’cause you must realize all this yourself. Still I had to say so.
Harry and Goldie, in their way I guess, will be happy. They’re different, by our standards, but they’re different together, so that they’re seemingly not different at all.
I thought I’d talk about one other thing that stands out to me, no two. The first is Eddie’s return. He’s 98% normal. When he’s talked enough about his awe-inspiring adventure, that is when he is here long enough so that he’ll not speak any more of them, except casually, he’ll be 100% normal. I really did enjoy seeing and hearing him.
The other is my date with Ev when we went to see “Mrs. Parkington.” The picture and the company had me in one of the most wonderful of mellow moods I’ve ever experienced. I hope Ev felt the same way. I think she did. If so I’ll accept your thanks right this minute if you please. Of course as we joined Eddie and his girl friend for sandwiches and malteds, we were both very conscious of the fact that you weren’t with us, but who cared. We returned home to ponder the problem of my getting married and how and if and when and Denver and business, we would all get together after the war. When Ev and I are along like that the situation becomes perplexing. I need your support to parry her breaking down of my points. So hurry the hell up and come home.
I’m in Kansas City now and I’ve made no attempt to contact Marilyn. (This is her home and she asked to to look her up.) I guess I do love Marjorie. I’ve bought a setting and have had one of Mom’s stones, the biggest, put into it. It makes a lovely engagement ring. I hope she can see her way clearly. If so, Marge will accept it. I’ve met her folks. They’re swell but I don’t know if they know that I’m serious. I’ll find out.
I’ll have to quit soon to catch my train back to Chickasha and Marjorie.
My ear is going to be O.K. I’ll let you know when I can say it is O.K. I’m 95% recuperated and only a violent jar or very rapid head movement can cause a slight dizziness that passes in a second.
Don't have time enough tonight to write a full-fledged letter, so I’m resorting to V-mail. I was supposed to have this morning off on accounta I pulled CQ last night, but I had so much to do, that I just couldn't take time off. Believe it or not, Chippie, I haven't even found the time to wash since yesterday morning. I managed to dispose of the Soldiers’ Deposits and PTT’s today and knock out a few letters, indorsements, etc., but I still have the Company History to do. It's due tomorrow, so I'll have to work pretty late tonight to get it done. That's why I can only spare you a few minutes right now - and I probably couldn't do that, if it were not for the fact that I’m waiting for Sgt. Yahner to get back from supper. I want him to straighten out an apparent discrepancy in the notes that Sgt. Sinneway gave me. While I was sweating him out, it occurred to me that it might be a good idea to let you know that your ever lovin' hubby is very much alive and kicking (but frequently) on this 4th of January. Today was a very nice one - clear and sunny - but cold! There was no mail for me today, so I don't guess I could have said much more, anyway.
Keep punchin,’ Baby, and always keep in mind that ever-present fact that is responsible for all your troubles today:
Your Phil
loves you
P.S. My love to the punkin - and all.
Jan. 5, 1945
Ev, darling,
Here I am again with V-mail. I want to make the first show to see "Wing and a Prayer”, and I don't have too much time. Besides, there was no mail again today, and I really have very little to say.
All day today was spent compiling, writing, and typing the Company History. By working steadily at it, I managed to get it done by 5 o’clock, which was the deadline.
The weather is uncomfortably chilly, and it's not too pleasant to walk back and forth from the Mess Hall. At night, I barely manage to stay warm by covering up with four blankets and my overcoat. In the morning, it takes a bit of will-power to get out from under the warmth of the blankets to brave the chill atmosphere of the hut while I scramble into my clothes.
However, all these minor physical inconveniences are as nothing compared to an overwhelming feeling of loneliness that assails me from time to time. It seems, Sweet that I'll never, never get used to being without you. Nothing in the world seems to hold any significance or importance for me anymore—outside the ever more desirable actuality of holding you close to my heart that loves you so. So long for now, Baby. Kiss “my little girl” for me.
Your Phil
Jan. 5, 1945 from Milt Brown
"OUR SANDY CLOTH”
Anything goes with it. You can tie pretty bows with it, Wipe off you nose with it, Dust off your clothes with it,
Patch up your hose with it,
Scare many crows with it
Truce all your foes with it, Cover ol’ man Mose with it, Keep away woes with it,
Useful isn’t it?
You can make a sarong if Lamour isn’t handi.
We’ve already sent one to Mahatma Ghandi.
You can color it red and drive a bull crazy.
Sit in the park on it when you are lazy.
It’s a kite or a bib, in a pinch a bandanna.
You can use it to decorate any piano.
It makes a nice bras or a real nifty snood.
You can cover almost anything. but let's not be rude.
Makes an arty ample apron,
Or a dainty darling diaper, And a tiny tidy towel, Or a wicked window wiper.
It's for wiping off lipstick just after kissin’.
It's even a shirt tail if yours should be missin'.
Share it with Mother and Father and friends. It's useful for baby at both of his ends.
You can play games with it, blindfold your face,
Drop the handkerchief, three legged race.
It could replace a filter if ya wanna be scientific,
And if ya stop to think, the possibilities are terrific.
Ya can write on it things you don't wanna forget.
It’s a quick pen wiper or a pingpong net.
It's a scarf if you're cold. And a fan if you’re hot.
It can almost be anything
You ain't got.
It's a collar for doggie,
A band for your hat,
A dress for the dolly.
Or a play house door mat.
Clean the windows,
Bandage your eyes
Polish your shoes,
Wavy G’Bye.
It’s quite correct in your dinner jacket,
Or in your ears when there's too much racket,
It’s nice enough on the wall to tack it.
Tie up your lunch in it when you go hiking,
Tie up your pants with it when you go biking, Or even just a tie.
Makeup taker offer,
A nose blower inner A vegetable wrapper upper,
A napkin at dinner.
For Benito and Adolph wrap up "Micky Fin" and make ’em drink lots of “Exlaxis." For the Japs a Bronx Cheer and a “Merry Miss-mas” and a “Happy New Jeer” to the Axis.
It’s only a handkerchief. Courtesy of Mickey Wyman through Stage Door Canteen
Am starting this at work, as there is a lull and want to get off to an early start. I caught up even further on my correspondence, by getting off letters to Snuff and Maxie Brown. Now I owe Red a letter and then everyone will owe me a letter.
This afternoon, before getting to work, I stopped at the wholesaler for some handbags that Mr. Bellet had recommended on Saturday, His first comment was, "Why did you wait till after Xmas. I haven't much of a selection now and you'll have to take what's left, if you like it". He said I could have anything I wanted, and after showing me skeenteen bags I settled for only two - a nice black leather one for Mom and a copper colored leather envelope bag for me to go with my copper colored oxfords. Mom's bag is also an envelope bag, but it is a nicer style than mine. When you consider that I only had to pay $4 a piece for them and no tax (you don't pay a 20% tax when buying wholesale) I think I did pretty good. He told me he would have an entirely new selection in about a month, so I'll stop up at that time and see what I can get for my mom and something for me in a black bag.
As it is, this copper bag is one of the largest I've ever possessed. It's supposed to be genuine leather and sells for a few dollars more retail.
I have high hopes of hitting a "huge jackpot" upon my arrival home, for when you consider that the last letters received from you a few days ago were those of the 6, 7 and 9 Dec. then you know why. Do you realize, sweet, that in almost three weeks I've had but one mail consisting of but three letters! Now that's what I call bad, especially for my morale.
You know, honey, Mom finally owned up that the best thing I could ever have done was go back to work. When I’m home from work and must keep Adele at 4906, it works on everyone's nerves, but mostly mine. Adele was a regular little demon yesterday and I wound up giving her a good licking. Adele tried to smack Diana twice, in her childish way, which, naturally, made Goldie very nervous. I can't blame her for I would be nervous under like circumstances. Adele simply would not listen to reason and I took her upstairs and made her play in her crib, Mom said if I were home all the time, between Adele and Diana she would go crazy. I haven't suggested my plan to give up the place as yet, for several reasons. The settlement of my grandmother's estate seems to be muddled up again. I want everything to be smooth once I go back, and that, especially. Secondly, there is the possibility that Harry may be drafted, if the new ruling is any criterion. All 4-Fs are scheduled to be called up again in an effort to show this nation this is a total war. I'm waiting until I feel the moment is right, even if it does mean a few months, So if I don't mention the subject, you'll understand. With Goldie giving a lift, Mom has nothing to do but prepare the dinner and wash the dishes and so is more or less taking life easy. The doctor has advised her not to poke her nose out of the house all winter in an effort to keep her from becoming ill, as she generally does each winter.
Upon arriving home, I found nothing but my check. Need I add how disappointed I am? Mom liked the bag and was quite surprised to receive a gift; why, I don't know. The enclosed sheet shows Adele's recent scribblings. She wrote the "Daddy" with my help. Good night, Sweetheart, I adore you so much! I wish very much that I'll at least hear from you tomorrow. And now I want to draw you so close and hug and kiss you - that's better. I love you dearly, Phil.
Your Eve
3 January 1945
Dearest Evvie,
Quite a few months have gone by since I last typed a letter to you, but because I am CQ tonight (the typewriter being at my disposal, therefore), and because I am now sufficiently proficient on the machine to make better time than I would writing longhand, I thought I'd, well, you know --
Today, a very busy one for me, brought me your letter of 11 December. It contained, beside your letter of course, Carmella's picture and Spike's V-mail Xmas greeting. Carmella (I wonder how old she is now?) is not pretty, I agree, but I think the picture doesn't flatter her. Of course, dearest one, I'm send ing it back "immediately." (far be it from me to ignore the vehemence of your command, or to risk arousing your ire by disregarding it!!).
There was also a very friendly V-mail from Gloria, dated 26 December. I'll have to make a special effort to answer her soon. - Which reminds me that I have still to answer Dot’s and Snuffy's letters. I'll try to find the time for that, too, one of these days. It must be difficult for you to understand, Chippie, why I have so little time to spare for correspondence, but such, you may take my word for it, is the case. If I have time to dash off a letter to you each night I count myself fortunate, no kiddin'! I still have to find a spare hour or so to answer Mom's letter. Until I do, though, give her my best love.
Your letter today is a mixture of happy news and unhappy news. In the latter category are the details of the circumstances surrounding Betty's death. Poor Sol, whet he must be suffering! - Not to mention all the Gutkins and Genshafts and Brands. I was considering writing to Max and Frada and Anne, but I just couldn't bring myself to a task that would, in all likelihood, bring a resurgence of their grief. I'm hoping they will understand and condone my silence.
The "happy" news, thank God, is more plentiful. I was delighted to learn that you received a "stack" of my mail. If my letters mean as much to you as yours do to me, then I'm sure they must have made you feel pretty good. And if you, my sweet, feel pretty good about anything whatever, well, I feel pretty good just knowing about it - ketch? Your mention of my letter about my meeting with Harry W. reminds me that I have still to hear from him. I don't even know where he is anymore! Let me know as soon as you have word of him, will you, Baby?
So my precious daughter calls her daddy by his first name, eh? Being merely her mother, darling, I wouldn't expect you to be able to appreciate what a real thrill that bit of news is for yours very lovingly. Truth to tell, I had been wondering whether her education had gotten that far along. It's heartening to be thus reassured that it has. Incidentally, Sweet, is my "little girl", as you now choose to call her, aware of her dad's own nickname for her? I may be wrong, but I feel that it will be quite a few years before I will feel like calling her anything but “punkin". So, if she is ignorant of this, I think it might be a good idea to acquaint her (by means best known to you) with my designs on her dignity. I think it only fair to warn her so that she may give some thought to defending a true lady's most precious possession - her dignity. You must admit, Chippie, that the appellation I choose to call her by is a serious deterrent on any designs she may have towards sophistication. Perhaps that is the real reason for my desire to know her as my “punkin". I think that subconsciously, or instinctively, I dread the day when she will be old enough to convincingly wear the mantle of reserved sophistication because that happenstance suggests to my all too impressionable mind that I will be excluded from her thoughts and confidences, and the mere thought of such an eventuality depresses me beyond my power to explain to you. But I didn't mean to go morbid on you, Baby - it's just another confession of some of the screwy thoughts that your hubby is heir to at odd moments. As to that your suggestion that she is no longer a baby, but that the best I can hope for is that she will one day be "my little girl", allow me to put your mind at ease, darling. The plain truth is (and you must have suspected it) that I much prefer "my little girl" to "my baby". As a matter of fact (and this may surprise you) I don't remember ever wanting or even visualizing a "baby girl"! What I adored and hoped to reproduce was the image of Barbara as a little girl between the ages of two and five years. I don't even remember what Barbara looked like at eight months or a year! So you see, Chippie, shameful as it may seem in your eyes, I wanted å "baby girl" only because she would one day be "my little girl". I'm not sure that this isn't an altogether selfish viewpoint, but at any rate, if you were tormenting yourself with regrets that I saw very little of my "baby", you may feel much better that I feel as I do. Furthermore, I am supremely confident that I will see and know "my little girl" long before she grows out of that category. While I'm on the subject, I want you to know, Sweet, that I'm awaiting the punkin's next picture with the greatest impatience,
Almost forgot to tell you that this is my first letter of the New Year, honey, and why I couldn't write on either the 1st or 2nd. Come to think of it, I didn't write on the 31st Dec. either. The 31st was New Year's Eve (as if you didn't know.) Klein had been pestering me all day to go to the party at the Dee's, to which we had both been invited, but I hadn't committed myself, 'cause I didn't have a fresh uniform to wear. We stopped in at the Aero Club for a snack, and Klein called the Dees on the phone to tender our regrets. While he was phoning, Sgt. Murphy happened along. I was talking with him when Klein came back - all excited. It seemed that the Dees insisted that we come out, and that there was plenty to eat and drink. Anyhow, to make a long story short, I reconsidered, asked the all-too-willing Sgt. to come along, and put in a call for a cab to take us to town. Unfortunately, all the cabs were "booked" up 'til 1:30 A.M., so we decided to sweat out a ride at the gate. Luckily, we hadn't been waiting fifteen minutes when a cab pulled in to discharge some passengers. It was a lovely night, clear and cold and moonlit. The frost, in some places, was so heavy that it looked like snow in the moonlight. Arrived at the Dees', we were met (and how!) by an English soldier, drunk as a lord, and demanding to know if we were "lantsmen" and generally making a great fuss over us and a nuisance of himself. Inside, where Dave Dee met us at the door with a shot of whiskey apiece, there was another English soldier, two ATS girls, Mr. and Mrs. Dee, Fay, Harry, the professors, Mr. and Mrs. Marks, Mr. Dee's niece, who had come up from London, and his mother. There was a great to-do when we came in. Everyone pressed drinks on us, and Sgt. Murphy was lionized. We were going to have our little joke by introducing him as Sgt. Cohen, and we had talked about it on the way, but trust your absent-minded hubby to give the game away by introducing him by his right name! However, Murph got a helluva lot more attention as the good-looking Irishman that he is than he could ever have received otherwise. Everyone put himself out to be nice to him. Beer, Wine, and Gin was forced upon him faster than he could drink it. Mr. Marks even assayed to sing a chorus of “Irish Eyes", but forgot the words half-way through the piece. Mrs. Marks came through to uphold the honor of the family, though, by finishing it on the piano. Klein, of course, was his usual ebullient self. He "kitzled" "Faigele", made overtures to the rather fast-looking niece, sang jewish songs for the edification of the old lady, danced with everyone, or by himself, mugged all over the place, and thru it all managed to consume prodigious quantities of drinks. Your ever-lovin' hubby, in the meantime, was devoting himself to the many good things to eat. Nor did I for a moment neglect the beer and the wine. I've gotten drunk before on a lot less than I had this night, but for some inexplicable reason, the drinks had no effect whatever on me. Perhaps if I had imbibed some gin, I might have felt it, but if you remember, Chippie, I once had a very unhappy experience with that detestable brew, and the mere smell of it is enough to make me sick, so I wisely stuck to the beer and wine. Klein has the same trouble with gin, but he has no will-power, and he wound up a very, very sick G.I. Murphy, on the other hand, was a revelation! I, myself, brought him five stiff shots of gin, a coupla glasses of beer and wine, and everyone else took special pains to see that he always had a drink in hand. He must have drunk at least as much as Klein, and I was watching him closely, but he might just as well have been drinking water for all the effect it had on him! Well, Chippie, we certainly saw the old year out and the new one in in the prescribed tradition. At the stroke of twelve, we toasted each other in whatever was in our glass at the time, sang "Auld Lang Syne", and shook hands all 'round wishing everyone, a Happy New Year. Klein did the typical thing (for him). He kissed everyone, and by that I mean that he missed no one! When the girls came over to wish me a Happy New Year, I was almost in a panic lest one of them might get any bright ideas about kissing me. I knew that if one did the others would follow suit, and the prospect didn't appeal to me a little bit. Fortunately for me, though, they did nothing more aggressive than shake my hand and hold their heads so that I could kiss them easily if I were so minded. I just shook hands, wished them all a Happy New Year, and pretended not to notice that their lips were so accessible. Murphy adopted the same policy. If I know you, Sweet, you will say that I carried my prudishness a little too far on this occasion, but I abhor promiscuous kissing (always have), and I wasn't having any, thank you, if I could possibly wriggle out of it. The English soldiers and ATS girls took their leave soon afterward, and a little later Mr. and Mrs. Marks said their good-byes. About this time Murphy and I were having our hands full with Klein, who had passed out in the bathroom. The cabbie who brought us had promised to stop for us, but he never showed up. Later, when we had brought Klein around to the point where he could stand, we took off for the cab rank. There just wasn't a cab to be had. However, Klein has had plenty of experience with like stalemates, so when he advised us that our best bet was the police-station, we went without question. Two Bobbies were on duty when we got there. We explained the sityayshun and they told us to have a seat while they rassled up a cab. Within a half hour we were on our way back to base - and that was that! All in all, we had a damned good time. It goes without saying, of course, that I would far rather have spent the evening over an ice-cream soda with you, Baby, but under the circumstances I enjoyed myself far better then I expected.
The next day being New Year's Day, the company was off. Almost every one slept 'til dinner time. Dinner was a repetition of Xmas Dinner - turkey and all the trimmings, only better, 'cause this time the pumpkin pie was edible. In the afternoon, I played pinochle with two of my hut-mates. Supper was out of the question, so, feeling rather drowsy and lazy after the long pinochle session, I decided to take a nap until 7 o'clock, when I intended to get a letter off to you and then take in "Pin-up Girl" at the second show. You know the rest - it's an old story. Klein woke me at 8:00 to go to the movies with him. Nor would he take no for an answer when I told him I wanted to spend what was left of the night getting that letter off to you. I would be lieing (lying?) if I tried to pretend that I was entirely averse to going to the movies. I had missed "Pin-up Girl" the last time it played here, and I was rather looking forward to seeing it, but I must admit that I had to ignore the dictates of my conscience when I passed up writing to go to the movies. For that I must ask your forgiveness, Chippie. Would you feel any better about it if I told you that I enjoyed the picture very much? No, I don't suppose it would - - Maybe if I told you that I felt uneasy afterwards for depriving you of the letter - - No? Well, in that case I can only repeat that I'm sorry about the whole thing. Besides, I think you will agree that this "longie" kinda makes up for it, huh?
It's exactly 12:10 now, Baby, and I'm very tired and sleepy, so I'll say my fondest good-night at this point. I adore you, Ev dearest. A big hug and kiss for the punkin from her
