Post #619 - March 31, 1945 Just Got Back from Marie's Wedding and I Feel It Is Only a Matter of Days Now ’til V-Day and A Letter from Dot Cohen

 

March 31, 1945

Dearest Phil,

It is 12:30 and I am still at work. Since I have completed all my work I am taking advantage of the spare time to get my daily letter off to you. I was mildly surprised when Lil called me last night. Her first sentence was, "I was just sitting here thinking what a stinker I am” - I heartily agreed, though I didn't say as much. She called to wish me happy birthday, anniversary, etc. I had very little to say. She said she would surprise me and pay me a visit. I told her not to come on Monday, cause I take Adele to Dr. Gayl's then. That was all.

There was no mail yesterday, but I did receive a very cute birthday card from Dot. I had an very uneventful evening last night - bathed Adele, washed, showered myself, washed and set my hair, etc. By the time I got to bed it was 11 and I had a fair night of rest.

After work I am going straight home, have lunch, and then I'm going to Marie's wedding, which takes place at 3 o'clock at the church at 5th & Lindley Ave. I'll continue on this later in the day. So long for now.

Just got back from Marie's wedding (just like that) and she looked lovely. I'm afraid I don't like their style when it comes to weddings, but one thing I do like - it's quick. I'm invited to the reception this evening to be held at the American Legion Hall, but I feel too tired to dress up again and attend.

I had two big surprises when I got home from work - two belated birthday cards - one from none other than Myra and the other from Lil, asking me in an accompanying note to "forgive her cause she's nuts". I shall call each and thank them and let it go at that.

We had a terrific wind and rain storm a few minutes ago and I thought would knock the house down. It's been very windy all day and had to culminate in some sort of climax.

I have a lot of little things I'm going to do tonight, so that I'll have more free time tomorrow, such as ironing, sewing, washing, etc. Dot called and told me she had intended to surprise me (more surprises) by coming up this evening, but that her mother went away unexpectedly. She may come up tomorrow, for she is anxious to read your 22 page letter. In fact she wants to type it up and send a duplicate to Snuff. How about that! She's certainly ambitious.

Since I find myself with nothing else to say, you won't mind if I go "sweet" on you and tell you that I adore you, Phil - so much!

Your Eve

31 March 1945

Darling Evie,

Your V-mail of 14 Mar. arrived this afternoon, but there wasn’t anything in it that calls for a reply, or comment. Nor did I do anything out of the ordinary today that I might tell you about. I’m still largely occupied with those personnel records I mentioned in yesterday’s letter. Everything considered, Chippie, I’m almost at my wits’ end for the means to fill this sheet. Still, you will have your daily letter, so you’ll have to bear with me if this gets boring—

This evening, I took in the first show at the station theater. The film was “Fighting Lady,” the saga of one of our aircraft carriers in the Pacific. It was really worth seeing. The photography was both beautiful and daring—the action unsurpassed. Lt. Robt. Taylor, the narrator, gives a very comprehensive picture of the life and activity aboard a “flat top.” The technicolor pictures of exploding and burning jap ships and planes are colorful and thrilling. The daily day-to-day chores of the sailors is a revelation. Most people don’t stop to think that such a ship is a community in itself, complete with cleaning, tailoring, barbering, printing and cooking and baking facilities—to say nothing of soda fountains, movies, etc. Altogether a very absorbing picture, and one I enjoyed very much.

What shall I tell you now, darling—that it has been a nice day? It has.—That I’m pretty tired now? I am.—That I feel it is only a matter of days now ’til V-day? I do.—That I’m wondering where we go from here? I am.—That I pray I will see you and the punkin and all my dear ones before many months have passed? I do.—That I adore you, and miss you more and more as time goes by? I do. Anything I might say after that would be in the nature of an anti-climax, so I’ll sign off now with a loving kiss for you, one for my adorable Adele, and one for Mom. My love to all.

Ever,

Your Phil

Sat. 3/31 (1945)

Dear Phil:

I've almost given up hope of ever hearing from you again, but I'll hang on a little longer. I'm a glutton for punishment. All kidding aside, I’m not really angry - just a little disappointed. I flattered myself by thinking that you wouldn't forget me, even if some of the other fellows did. I know there must be a good reason why you haven't written, and I'm all ready to forgive you. Isn't that sweet of me? Please pardon the mistakes, but this is the sixth letter I have written tonight and I have about six more to go.

I spoke to Evie tonight and I may go out to see her tomorrow night. However, I don't like to make anything definite, as something always happens.

I heard about the twenty-two page letter you wrote her, and am most anxious to see it. I guess now that you have met a Member of Parliament, we won't even be able to touch you. (I'm only kidding, of course.)

Ev has probably told you about the freak weather we are having. The temperature has been anywhere from 80 to 87 for the past two weeks. I can't help but wonder what the weather will be in July, if it is this way in March. YIPE!

Snuff is fine and is very happy at his new post. He is eligible for a furlough every ten months and is expecting one sometime in June or July. I hope everything works out. We at least can thank God for the fact that he is still in the country. I know that probably sounds very selfish to you guys that have been over for so long, but it can't be helped. He'll get his dose of "overseas duty.” They were told that they would be Army of Occupation - which is really something to look forward to. After all, the Engineers will have to build up everything that was torn down. It is a vicious cycle, but what are we to do.

Hal is fine and is getting to be quite a good boy. I have some adorable snaps of him that I'm waiting to be finished, and I'll send you one as soon as I get them. My Aunt bought him a sailor suit and he looks like a doll in it. I know, what is he doing with a sailor suit, when his Daddy is in the Army. If you remember, his Daddy wanted a sailor suit originally, and had no choice. But no kidding, Hal is really built for a sailor suit, what with his rear end sticking out the way it does.

I hear from Snuff regularly, and his mail takes about a week to reach me. I guess you know that he is working as a machinist for a civilian company but at Army pay. But still no complaints from this end. There is no chance of my joining him, as they were specifically told that their families could not join them. In the first place, the only city where I could stay is sixty miles away, and it would take him so long to reach there that it really wouldn't pay. But we are going to discuss it all thoroughly when he gets home on furlough.

Phil, I can't help but look forward to the good times we will have once more when this rotten mess is over. It is a good thing that we have memories to look back on, so that at least we have something to live on for the time that we are separated from our loved ones. (That is one of my more serious moments.)

Ev tells me you are pretty down in the dumps with the new idea of being shipped to the South Pacific without a furlough. I hope it is just an idle rumor. That is one of the reasons I am writing this letter. I don't want a serious thought in it. It is strictly for the purpose of building up your morale. I sincerely hope it succeeds.

I know that I have never written a joke to you, but I think you need them now, so here goes:

It happened at a diplomatic dinner in London. A gentleman was sitting beside a beautiful and charming blonde who possessed all the social graces. During the course of dinner, he put his hand beneath the tablecloth and started feeling her ankle. She gave him a brilliant smile. Encouraged, he went a little further and reached the calf with the same result. Becoming emboldened with encouragement, he went above the knee. Very soon, giving the diplomat a smile, she whispered in his ear, "When you come to my balls, don't change the expression on your face, I’m Secret Agent #5!"

Don't be embarrassed! I probably wouldn't have the nerve to tell it to you if I was in your company, but there are always exceptions.

If you are angry, I'll feel awfully bad. No, I'm not going to apologize. I just hope you enjoy it and it serves the purpose for which it was intended.

I saw the show “Winged Victory" here and it was really wonderful. I don't think I'll ever forget it until the day I die, that's how it impressed me. If you get an opportunity to see the picture, don't miss it. The show and the picture have almost the same cast. I shall see the picture at least eight times.

There really isn't much more I can write at the present time, as nothing is new, but, please, do write soon and let me know that I haven't done or said anything to make you angry.

Please let me know if there is anything I can send you. Don't be bashful and don't hesitate to ask me for anything. Also, I would like to ask you a favor. Next time you send a package to Ev, put in a little soveignor for Hal, from England, so I can put it away with his other ones. Thanks loads, and let me know if it can be done.

Affectionately,
Dotty

Post #618 - March 29, 1945 Do You Actually Mean to Tell Me That They Expect You to Go to the Pacific to Serve After All These Years? and I Had Committed Myself to Attend the Seder that was Arranged by the Jewish Families of Colchester for the Jewish Personnel of the Services in the Vicinity

 

March 30, 1945

My dearest Phil,

I really intended to write yesterday, but fate decreed otherwise, or rather, I was too tired and slept all evening. I felt very tired when I awoke yesterday and the whole day seemed like a dream to me. I had a busy day at work and got home to find my cousin Bella, Doris and Stevie there. Ruth had taken Adele in town for about an hour in the afternoon (to get her off my mother's hands for a little while). Bella brought Adele a sweet little yellow dress trimmed with orchid ric-rac. Adele hadn't eaten supper and I had to give her dinner. When she finished it was about 7:30 and I had been so hungry that my appetite abated by the time I could eat. Adele was cranky most of the day, so after eating what I could I took her outside and we sat about 15 minutes. I took her up at 8:15, bathed her and cleaned her shoes. When I finished I was so exhausted I could bearly stand up and decided to lay down for a few minutes and rest before washing and writing my letter to you. Next thing I remember is that it was 12 o'clock. I got up, got undressed and went right back to sleep, till 7:15 this morning. Today was the first day in several weeks that I actually felt rested sufficiently to keep going all day long.

I almost forgot to mention another highlight of yesterday. I received your v-mails of March 21 and 22. Your v-mail of the 21st was very sweet, honey, but I felt very sick in my stomach when I read yours of the 22nd. Do you actually mean to tell me that they expect you to go to the Pacific to serve after all these years? Well, I think the Army has its nerve and I don't mean maybe. There are too darn many slackers as it is that could be sent there to do the job. I'm so disgusted with the U.S. Army that it isn't even funny. Bitter - hell, it's worse than that - That, too, was one of the reasons why I had no appetite to eat dinner last night. Boy, I was in terrible shape yesterday.

There are two other things I've been meaning to tell you that I keep forgetting to mention - Anne Gutkin is pregnant (about her fourth month) (guess she wants to give Betty a name) and Jack S. is bending all efforts to get a furlough, which is due him now, as he has served 18 months in the Pacific.

The package of Dorothy Gray toilet articles is on top of the chest (I'm keeping it there for a while just to look at it and feel good) and Adele knows that it has something to do with my birthday. Every time she looks at it, she starts to sing Happy Birthday.

Evidentally you received my package of foodstuffs, as stated in your letter of the 21st and you ask for a duplicate. No sooner said than done. As you know, I have a package started, but it consists only of candy so far, and a few small packs of chiclets. Mom received an order of tuna and salmon from Gloria's brother (he's a grocer in New York and was good enough to send a dozen cans of each to keep on hand, at a reasonable price) and intended to send you a package too, so we'll just get together. I'll get some cheese and a salami and send a little more mayonnaise and butter thins. I'm glad you're so well pleased with the package. From your letter, I gather it arrived on our anniversary, so it was an anniversary, instead of a birthday gift.

We've had "June or July" weather the past two days and I doubt if it will continue indefinitely. It isn't even necessary to wear a coat.

Today was another full one for me, although I had cleaned up all odds and ends yesterday. I worked steadily on statements most of the day and since it is only past five and I've finished with every single bit of work I could possibly do, I'm using the time to write to you, with Mr. Bellet's consent.

As I told you some time ago, Al gave up the station. He hasn't been doing anything for several weeks now. He's looking for another business.

Diana and Adele get along famously, and at the present time Diana has a hacking cough, due, mostly to her teething. You must have received the picture of her by this time and can see for yourself what she looks like, so I won't go into detail.

Adele scared the life out of me the other day. We were about to go outside and I always hold her hand when we descend the front steps. This time, before I had a chance to get a hold on her, she said, "It's alright, mommy, I'll go down by myself", and straight away marched down the front steps without holding on to anything. I let her walk down the steps in the house alone, but she holds on to the bannister and I walk down a few steps in front of her for my peace of mind. Boy, was I happy to see her get down safely!

You can readily see, by my daily accounts, just how busy I am and have been, so that it is practically impossible for me to write to anyone beside you these days. I don't even have time for relaxation and recreation because Adele stays up too late. If I were home now, I'd have to keep her up all day and put her to bed early in order to have an evening to myself. However, that is a terrible grind and I'd rather my mother nap her late and put her to bed a little later, than have my mother go through such a tough grind all day. She's very wild these days and I'm about the only one she'll listen to. She loves to run and play rough - she's just at that stage. You'd get a real workout if you were home and I don't mean maybe.

Adele's speech becomes clearer and more distinct each day. The two main faults - saying "t" for "k" and "y” for "1" still remain, much as I try to correct her. Undoubtedly it will correct itself in due time.

Well, dearest, I'm just about out of time, as well as words, and so I'll sign off with my dearest love to you, honey, a couple of good, long kisses, and - well, we'll go into "that" some day, huh - Guess you know I am

Your Eve

30 March 1945

Dearest Chippie,

This is the first opportunity I have had to write since 26 Mar. I'm through apologizing for not writing because my conscience is clear in the matter. I will only say that I'm sorry that circumstances prevented me from doing as I would want to - to write every day. Tonight, because Dick Stahle is CQ, I thought I would type a letter in the Orderly Room. These past days have been hectic ones for me. I have a lot of work to do on personnel records. As a matter of fact, Chippie, I've estimated that in order to finish what I have to do on one particular form for each man in the Company, I'll have to work steadily at it for a full month! Now the hardest thing to do around here is to be able to work steadily at anything without being interrupted by sundry other matters - so it will probably take me much longer than that! Anyhow, in these past few days I have been busy every minute of each day, and the evenings found me so fatigued mentally that I had neither the stomach nor the energy for anything but sleep. That is why I didn't write on the 27th. On the 28th I felt just as I had the evening before, but it was the "First Seder” of Pesach, and I had committed myself to attend the Seder that was arranged by the jewish families of Colchester for the jewish personnel of the services in the vicinity, and I couldn't renege, even though I would have much preferred to write a short V-mail to you and hit the hay. It all came out very well, though, and after it was all over I was very glad I had come. You may be very sure, darling, that I was ever mindful through the night that it was your birthday, and I found myself wondering what you were doing at the time in the midst of the festivities. The Seder was a very striking and colorful affair. It was held in the dining room of Tweed & Co., a catering firm in Colchester. About 300 English, American and Canadian service men and women attended. In addition, there were a handful of civilians, the Woolfs, Schonbergs, Cohens, etc. Chaplain Richards of the British garrison in Colchester, conducted the services. We covered the "Haggadah" pretty thoroughly, one of the young British soldiers asked the “Fir Kashes", everyone joined in the singing, and no one got drunk, 'cause there was only a limited supply of wine. The meal, outside of the traditional egg, bitter herb, morra, etc., was ample, and very well prepared. There was tomato soup and hors d'oeuvres for an appetizer, filet of white fish, mashed potatoes and green peas, and a great preponderance of canned pineapple (provided by the American Quartermaster) for dessert. Pineapple, as all tinned fruit, is a greatly relished delicacy for our British friends. Some of them have not tasted it since the war started, and their appreciation was profuse and outspoken. They gorged themselves on it unashamedly, and it was almost funny to see the rueful glances they cast at the plates full that were beyond their capacity to dispose of. Klein drove one of the trucks, and I sat beside him in the cab. Altogether, there were thirty G.I.'s from this station that attended. I got back very, very tired, but somehow exalted by the memory of the Seder and some of the speeches of appreciation that concluded the festivities. Just to give you an idea of the representation, Sweet, I'll enumerate the speakers who spoke on behalf of their fellow servicemen. Chaplain Richards-British Army: Chaplain Davis (Protestant)-American Army; Lt. Creger-Canadian Airborne Forces; Lt. Berger-American Army Air Forces; A Lt. of the ATS (British WACS); Wing-Commander Jacobs - RAF; A Lt. of the American Ground Forces; a British sailor. Sitting next to me at table was an ATS girl, a native of germany, who emigrated to England about six years ago. Her parents left for Shanghai at the same time, and she has not heard from them since. I talked to her most of the evening. Needless to say, her story was most interesting. So, tired but happy, as the saying goes, I finally managed to get to bed. Yesterday was a repetition of the 28th (as far as the working hours were concerned). While I was on pass in Colchester on the 19th, I wrote to the Davies' to inform them that I would call on the 29th to learn whether Judith had come up from school, and to arrange for another visit. Accordingly, I went down to the Aero Club to call right after supper. Unfortunately, the trunk line was busy and I had a wait of about two hours before I could get thru. I killed the time having a snack with Klein, who accompanied me, and watching the dancing class. (Four local girls come in weekly to give instructions to the G.I.'s of the station who are desirous of learning to dance). At 10:20, my call came thru. Mrs. Davies answered the phone, and was as excited as a little girl with my call. Judith, who was upstairs at the time, came dashing down when she learned who was on the line. That seemed to amuse Mrs. Davies, too. Before I finished, I had also had a few words with the Doctor. I learned that Judith will be home all during April, and will return to school on the 30th, when Mrs, Davies will accompany her to London. I have decided to make a trip up there on the 9th, when I am taking my next 48-hour pass. Fully half the time will be spent traveling, but I expect to get a lot of reading done on the train, so I rather welcome the prospect. It would be worth it in any case to spend a full day at Meadowcroft. The Davies' were so very nice to me that I've actually missed them, and have been looking forward to seeing them again. To make a good thing perfect, the Army has just decided to pay our way wherever we may choose to travel on pass or furlough, so the trip won't cost me a penny. Ordinarily, it would cost me about ₤3 ($12.00). Mrs. Davies told me that she had heard from Ernie and that he had expressed an intention to get in touch with me, but as yet I have not heard from him. Needless to say, Sweet, I am looking forward to 9 April with a great deal of pleasureable anticipation.

Today was a repetition of the past two days, but I made up my mind I was going to make up for those three letters I didn't write, and after a short nap came over to the Orderly Room and got right to work, (How’m I doin', honey?) It is now just five minutes 'til "date time,” but I'm not giving up yet. Not, at least, 'til I've told you that I received four of your very sweet letters in the past three days. They were your V-mails of 15, 17, 18 March and your long typed letter of the 19th. The V-mails contained nothing startling and require no comment. The longie of the 19th informed me that you had received my "furlough manuscript” and my V-mails of 8, 9, 10 March. I'm very glad that you were so pleased with the "manuscript”, baby. Believe me when I say that those few words of appreciation repaid me for all the time I spent on it. I sincerely hope that you were able to "see" some of the things I saw and did in Yorkshire thru the medium of my writing. I hope that I was able to convey some of my own pleasure in the same way to you, my darling.

The bulk of your letter was concerned with your activities and the punkin's, and the visit of the Silvers. I was rather disappointed, though, to learn that Jean Levin is already in France. I had hoped to see her here in England. Too bad she missed Eddie as she did, but I think they'll see each other before long.

Sorry I couldn't send the punkin's proofs back to you any sooner, Sweet, but I just couldn't part with them so abruptly. However, I'm enclosing them here in the hope that I'll have the real picture before very long. Tell Adele that daddy liked her picture very much, and kiss her for me.

I guess you know that we are counting the days 'til the end of the war in Europe now, and there is a very good chance that it will be all over by the time this reaches you - I hope.

And now it is time to say au revoir, my darling Evie. My eyes just refuse to stay open any longer, and my weary bones yearn for the comfort of the despised but blessed sack. You know, of course, what other "comforts" I yearn for.... If you don't, you should.

For the present, though, I'll just have to be content with telling you once more that I adore you, my Evie. Here's a kiss for you, too, baby.

Please give my love to all. I am

Your ever-lovin'
Phil

Post #617 - March 28, 1945 Just Cause I'm 23 Today, Would You Mind Very Much If I Signed Off with 23 Long, Long Kisses and a Big Bear Hug for Good Luck.

 

3/28/45

My dearest,

Your letter of March 18th greeted me upon my arrival home and I enjoyed the accounts of your visit with Bert and Evelyn. What I wouldn't give to lounge around for just one day! I told Adele yesterday that tomorrow was mother's birthday and first thing on arising this morning she gave out with "Happy Birthday to you -" The only thing that made me angry was the fact that she got up at 6 to say it and I had gotten to bed at 1 A.M.! Oh, well, it's all in a lifetime and what's a little sleep - yeh, what is it. I was so tired and so busy cleaning up at work that I didn't have time to remember whether or not it was my birthday. Anne got a bright idea at work and when Mr. Bellet was in the office came forth with, "Well, kid, it's your birthday, so I'm going to treat you to a nice slice of pie for lunch." I thought he'd say something nice, but instead he piped in with, "Speaking of gifts, didn't you take a step-on can for someone last night?" So I had to pay him for it and that was that. After all his promises of gifts and treats I've come to the conclusion that he's the biggest bull-thrower that ever was. Anne did bring me delicious piece of huckleberry pie and my dad brought me ice-cream, so I had a royal lunch.

It was practically summer today, as far as I'm concerned. The weather is lovely and wish very much that we could take some walks together through the park, with Adele. Soon - huh -

Harry and Goldie gave me a lovely pale peach lace trimmed satin slip for my birthday. It's just what I need and I'm going to get myself several more - gradually. Adele is getting ready for a new pair of shoes and I am going to take her to Dr. Lefkoe before purchasing them, just to be sure her feet are okay. I should like to buy her low oxfords, for I feel she is ready for them, but he may have other ideas. There isn't anything wrong with her walk, except for a slight tendency to turn her right foot in, but day by day! I watch carefully and it is slowly, and surely disappearing. Now that she is taller and thinner her legs are straighter and not quite as chubby as they used to be. She has the cutest little figure -

Dot called me first thing early this morning to wish me a happy birthday. Mail from Snuff comes through very slowly. He writes a nice letter and is very satisfied with his present setup, that is as well satisfied as one in the Army can be.

It is past ten and I just finished bathing Adele, washing, showering myself, etc. and am going to hit the hay immediately after I finish this. I had a shot of delicious blackberry wine (a gift of Ethel and Al for the holidays) after dinner and it is taking effect. I hope you had a pleasant Passover dinner, baby, and that you'll spend your next one with me. Good night, angel mine, and just cause I'm 23 today, would you mind very much if I signed off with 23 long, long kisses and a big bear hug for good luck. I love you so much -

Your Eve

Post #616 - March 27, 1945 Undoubtedly You, Too, Heard the So-Called Peace Rumors that Floated About Today

 

3/27/45

Dearest Darling:

It is 12 A.M. and I have just returned from Marie Presti’s shower. I really hadn't intended writing this evening at all, but since I'm not too sleepy I thought I’d try to keep up my daily missive. I am just 23, since it is now really March 28th. Funny, I don't feel any different. I looked pretty nice this evening, even if I have to say so myself. I am wearing my coral and black dress (one of my two newest ones) and black doeskin shoes, (all closed and cut in D'orsay style - they are Ruth's and she agreed to sell them to me this very evening) I have a black velvet ribbon in my hair and my hair is very long and full and piled high on top. I wish I felt as well as I look at the minute and I would if I had more rest.

Adele did have some effects from the scarlet fever injection because she threw up after dinner this evening. The spot where the needle was injected is inflamed, but it hasn't affected the use of her arm any. I bathed her and washed her hair before going to the shower. I bought Marie a white porcelain step-on garbage can, which I got at our place for $2. She liked the gift very much and seemed very pleased with it.

My dad took Adele's stroller apart today and Mr. Bellet is having the body of the stroller sent back to the factory for repairs. The carriage would be useless as it is and there was nothing else he could do, much as he tried to squirm out of it. He's really a bugger when he gets started, but he can't do much when I get started.

I finished knitting the back of Adele's fuschia and gray sweater and stopped at the yarn shop before going to work to get my instructions for the front and sleeves. The wool I'm using is very fine and it takes hours to do a few inches. However it will be a serviceable sweater and won't show the dirt as much as those she has now.

Undoubtedly you, too, heard the so-called peace rumors that floated about today. Oh, darling, just the thought that it will actually end and soon is enough to give one a zest for life! As I said to Anne, "Wouldn't it be wonderful if it did happen on my birthday". It would be wonderful any day and the sooner the better.

I must take my leave for now, sweetness, as I'm getting wearier by the minute and want very much to get to bed. How I wish I had your strong arms to hold me close and your sweet lips to caress and kiss me! Oh darling -

I adore you so much -

Your Eve

Post #615 - March 26, 1945 I Phoned Dr. Gayl and Took Adele Right Down for Her First Scarlet Fever Shot and Somehow I Feel Guilty that I Should Be the Cause of Your Driving Yourself to Write Under Those Prohibitive Conditions

 

3/26/45 

My dearest Phil,

I have so much to say this evening and so little time and space. Three "wonderful" things happened to me today - your package of Dorothy Gray toilet articles arrived along with your letters of March 16 and 19. Mom called me at work to tell me about the package and we were all sure it was the doll. I was as excited as could be till I got to it. It comes in a light pink and big box with an enormous fuschia colored ribbon on top. It contains a bottle of bath oil (I don't even know how or what it's used for) a large box of dusting powder with a real glass top and a bottle of cologne. It's really lovely and I wish very much that I could kiss you instead of thank you - I’d enjoy it that much more. I'm not going to use it, though, until you come home and can help me enjoy it. Your letter of the 16th was in answer to my v-mail, decrying the lack of mail. I'm so glad you didn't "fly" at me for being so disgusted and you know as well as I do that I don't mean to hurt you. I just couldn't help feeling so terribly let-down. I'm sure you yourself can see how differently I sound when I receive mail regularly. Your v-mail of the 19th told of your visit to the Marks’ and I shall look forward to your letter of the 19th, which, no doubt, tells more of your visit with Bert and Evelyn. Yep, you sure is stubborn about the gee-gaw, but I don't mind waiting for that in the least. As you must have guessed, your birthday gift arrived almost to the day. At least your timing is better than mine. I had a very full day at work. Adele woke me twice last night and I wasn't too rested. Immediately after work I phoned Dr. Gayl and took Adele right down for her first scarlet fever shot (I'll bet you thought I'd never get around to it) (I had run into Mrs. Gayl on Saturday and told her I was about to give Adele the injections). Adele and I took the bus to Broad and Allegheny where the doctor has his office at present and got there in no time. Adele behaved like a regular young lady (she was a bit leery about entering his office at first) and when the doctor walked into the waiting room, said, "You must be the doctor." Adele weighs 34 lbs. is 37-1/2 inches tall and has very big tonsils that will have to come out in the fall or next spring. I hope, baby, that you will be home by that time so that we can both take her to the hospital. It's quite an ordeal and I hate to go through it alone. If I have to, I'll have to—I attracted her attention and before she knew what had happened the injection was finished. He gave me chocolate aspirins and told me to give her bicarb with boiled water (after the third shot) as they tend to become feverish and want to vomit. I’ll be very happy when this business is all over. There are generally five shots, but they increase them to seven (giving smaller doses towards the end) depending on how the child reacts. I had the doctor weigh me and I weigh 116-1/2, which he said isn't too bad for me. When we were riding home on the bus Adele said, "Him's a bad boy, him put a needle in my arm." I put Adele to bed, washed her clothes, cleaned her shoes and even sewed her overalls. Now I'm just about finished with this and "finished" for the night. I'm sure you won't mind if I cut this short??? by saying "I love you, Phil, darling" and, as if you didn't know, I miss you so much! Imagine, I'll be 23 - gosh, I'm getting up there, too. Good night, angel, and thanks so much for your devotion and love. It makes life bright for

Your Eve

26 March 1945 

My Darling,

Three of your v-mails arrived this afternoon, but they were little more than notes, which said more eloquently than any words, that you were not so much concerned with telling me anything  as you were with getting a letter in the mail to me each day. It was easy for me to sense that you had little patience for writing on those days the, 15th, 17th, & 18th, even if you hadn't told me the reason, Sweetheart. It is to your very great credit then, honey, that you did write, and I want you to know that I'm grateful for what must have been a hard effort for you on my account. Somehow I feel guilty that I should be the cause of your driving yourself to write under those prohibitive conditions. Please, baby, spare yourself the next time, will you? I’ll understand.

Last night, I saw "Tree Grows in Brooklyn” and was very disappointed that the picture covers only a portion of the story in the book. I told you in yesterday's letter that I meant to start a letter to Mom when I came back from the show, but I was very tired and drowsy when I returned to the hut and hit the sack straightaway. I feel the same way tonight, although I can’t imagine why I should. Guess Mom's letter will have to wait a more favorable opportunity. Tell her I’m thinking of her, will you, baby? "

The weather has turned bad again, and I’ve been gadding about in the rain a good bit today. Seems like my spirits depend a good deal on whether the sun shines or not.

I’ll write a “real” letter tomorrow, Ev darling, and will enclose the proofs. My love for you grows and grows, my own, and sometimes I wonder where I’ll hold it all. Kiss my punkin for me. God bless you both. Love to all.

Lovingly,

Your Phil

Post #614 - March 24, 25, 1945 I Only Wish We'd Both Come to Life Inside Once More and I Even Made a Bet as to the Date of V-Day

 

March 25, 1945

Dearest Phil:

Adele did not go to sleep until after ten last night and I never got to bed till twelve. I was sure Adele would sleep later this morning and allow me to get some sleep - but evidentally she doesn't think I need any. She was up like a bat out of a cannon, at 7 sharp and rarin' to go. If only you were here and could take her off my hands at these times - I'd certainly appreciate being able to sleep - just one single morning. I can't seem to remember ever lying abed until I felt like getting up - what's it like? I know you don't do it often, but at least you get the opportunity to do it once in a while. If you think the Army with its rulings and enforcements is bad, mister, you ought to try being a mother - any and everything goes and then some.

I decided not to nap her so that she would go to bed early and give me at least one evening to myself. So - I ran around with her all day long and tired myself out but good. I had promised Mom we would clean the venetian blinds downstairs today, and brought Adele in about 3:30 and let her play her on the porch while we busied ourselves with the blinds. It was 5:30 when we finished. Adele had her dinner and went straight to bed. She wouldn't go to sleep for quite a while, but she's sleeping now and I'm so thankful to have a little time to myself.

Emma Strongin called us late in the afternoon to tell us that she is leaving for California this evening to join Phil. It's possible that Phil may go overseas and she wants to be with him as much as possible if such is the case.

The news sounds wonderful, in fact I sometimes have to pinch myself to make it seem true. Do you mean to tell me, sweet, that this war might be over soon? Incredible! After waiting so long, I've come to a point where I don't believe anything unless I see it with my own two eyes and I won't even believe that it is over until my eyes can gaze upon you.

I'm sorry, sweet, that I haven't had time to write to the Davies’ as you requested, and will try to do so in the near future. Adele keeps me stepping at such a fast pace when I am home these days that I have very little taste for letter-writing or anything that requires concentration. I noted, in your 22 page letter that you gave Mr. Edwards my mother's telephone number (Mic. 8207) and not our telephone number, which, in case you'd forgotten, is Dav. 2612.

Really, honey, I should take myself out tonight for some entertainment and relaxation, but I'm much too tired to stray from the house. It's two weeks since I've been out an evening and this continual staying in does me a whole lot of no good. I noted in your last batch of letters that you seem to make the most of each evening, by going to the movies, weekly dance or whatever comes your way. I enjoy reading your accounts of each because it makes up in part for the times I have to stay in. I usually relax in the living room for a little while before hitting the hay and read and reread your letters. I've reread your 22 pager many, many times. It's almost a book. I do hope someday you'll try to write a book. I know you have the talent (even though you think I'm prejudiced} and I assure you I am not, in that respect, as numerous others share my opinion.

Spring shone forth in all its glory and brought everyone out on their porches and steps. It's good to see the world come to life again, after a bitter cold winter. I only wish we'd both come to life inside once more -

I adore you, darling, and want very much to continue on this, however I must get a card to send to Stuart (today is his first birthday) and will post this at the same time. Good night, baby, and I pray I shall not have to say it through this medium much longer.

Your Eve

25 March 1945

Dearest Evie,

There was no fresh mail for me today, and because it has been no different than most days, I don’t have anything much to write about. I was reading over your letter of 28 Feb. that accompanied the proofs of the punkin and noticed that I had failed to tell you which post to have made up for me. Hence I am submitting my order forthwith: One (1) 5 x 7 (sitting pose), colored—of course! I’m awaiting the other picture (of Adele writing on the blackboard) with the greatest impatience. Glad you got out to the movies, for a change, to see “Frenchman’s Creek” with Eddie. What is Eddie doing these days, incidentally, still taking it easy? This evening I’m going to see “Tree Grows in Brooklyn” at the base theater. I’m looking forward to it with a great deal of pleasurable anticipation, ’cause if it’s anything like the book, it should be a “smasher” (as Bert might say). I’m going to try to catch the first showing so that I’ll have an hour or two afterward to start a letter to Mom.

The news from Germany gets more encouraging daily. I even made a bet as to the date of V-day. I can’t tell you the date, Sweet, but I can say that I’m getting odds of 2-1, so you can gather from that that I didn’t guess too far into the future—

Forgot to tell you, honey, that your rather long air-mail letter of 13 March arrived yesterday. There was nothing about it that required any answering, since you filled almost the entire two typed pages with the descriptions of Ruth’s new dresses and your new jumper. The letter is remarkable, though, for the speedy trip it made. Eleven days for an air-mail letter is very good time, I think.

By the way, Chippie, if you are missing letters for 20 and 24 March just be patient a little longer, ’cause it’s a longie in a blue envelope, and may be slow getting thru. I started it on the 20th, and finished it on CQ last night. I’m anxiously awaiting your reply to the installment of the 24th, so give what I said a lot of thought before you attempt to answer it. Kiss Adele for me. Love to all. I love you, my Eve.

Your Phil

Post #613 - March 23, 1945 Adele is Sporting Half of a Red Sunburned Face and The Punkin, I Must Admit, Proved a Great Surprise to Me

 

3/23/45

3/24/45

Dearest Phil,

As you may have noted by the dateline, I attempted to get this off to you yesterday, but, as the fates would have it, I did not get the opportunity to write at all. Adele kept me busy until the wee hours and I was too exhausted to as much as think of writing. Today I received your v-mail of 15/Mar and thanks so much for the early birthday wishes. I'm kind of tired again this evening. It’s very late and I have the time of my young life getting our daughter to sleep. There simply is no sleep in her. She went to bed (she was in bed at 8:30) and actually went to sleep about 10:30. This morning, after interrupting me once during the night, she was up at 7:45. She hardly slept during the day, but I'll be darn if she’d go to bed this evening. It's just about 10 now and she's just dozing off. When I got back from work I got her carriage and Fay and Ruth (the girl who lives with her now) took their kids and we walked to Broad St. I had Adele out all afternoon, hoping the fresh air would aid in promoting sleep - oh yeh - all I did was tire myself. I'm exhausted, but she’s just loaded with pep. Wish she'd give me some - I could do with a little extra.

My dad has been bringing me in a chocolate square with raisins in it as a dessert after lunch and it was so good that I prevailed upon him to get me a whole box for you. Consequently, he recently purchased a box of 24 bars, and was fortunate in getting a large Hershey bar. I'm trying to accumulate some chiclets and just as soon as I have a fair sized package it will go off.

It might interest you to know that I deposited the $10 gift from Seymour to our account and bought a $25 bond this month. Anne, (the bookkeeper) used to work for a beauty concern, and got me a whole pint of creme shampoo that only the beauty shops use, at the wholesale price of $1.50. It has lovely perfumy smell and I’ve started to use shampoo instead of soap, as formerly, on Adele’s hair. It's really good stuff and I love the odor. When I wash Adele’s hair with, it she says, "Mommy, it smells like perfume," Did I tell you that Adele understands quite a bit of Jewish? Well, she does.

Anne Presti called me yesterday morning and invited me to a shower to be held on Tuesday night for Marie. I haven't decided whether or not I'll attend, but in all likelihood I will.

Mr. Chase (Brighten Beach) had a heart attack and the doctor has confined him to his bed for the time being. Ethel and Al are going into New York by train tomorrow to pay him a visit. He hasn't been feeling so good of Iate.

Stuart will be a year old on Monday - doesn't the time fly? Haven't decided what I'll give him as a birthday gift.

The weather was beautiful today. My mom had Adele outside all morning and let her nap in the stroller. Adele was in the sun and my mom didn't realize how warm the sun was - so Adele is sporting half of a red sunburned face.

I'm going to wash my air, knit little bit (I don't think I’ll ever finish Adele's sweater in time for the Spring season) and hit the hay. In fact I may just skip everything and hit the hay, cause I'm very sleepy.

So it is that a very sleepy "dirl" says "good night" to her “boy” and tells him, oh so tenderly, that she loves him deeply and wants him to be close to

Your Eve

23 March 1945

Darling Eve,

Just got back from the Aero Club, where, together with Klein, Bloom, Weinstein, I enjoyed a real American feast many thanks to that swell package I received from you the other day. Klein wangled a dozen eggs from a farmer, so while he fried the salami, I beat up the eggs to fry with it. Then we mixed the tuna with the mayonnaise, sliced the cheese, got 24 pieces of buttered bread, put it all on plates, and settled down to a real feed. We all certainly enjoyed it, Chippie, and I know you would have been repaid the trouble and expense you went to in preparing and mailing the package, could you have seen how we relished the meal!

This afternoon, at last, your letter containing the proofs of the punkin arrived. How can I describe what I felt when I looked at the sweet images of my very own daughter? Even in the pictures, she is so utterly appealing, that I felt a sense of frustration because I couldn't hold her my arms. God, how I long for the day when I shall be able to do so! The pictures themselves are lovely beyond my fondest expectations. I too, prefer the sitting pose, but some of the fellows favor the other. However, they are both very good pictures, and I can hardly wait to see the finished article. The punkin, I must admit, proved a great surprise to me. I expected her to be big, and cute, but not that big, or so very adorable! You're doing a great job of raising her, Sweet, and don't think that I've forgotten it for a minute. I'm so very proud of both my Chippies. I have only one complaint, if you'll permit me, and that is that you didn't take heed of my wishes, and neglected to have your own photo made.

I'm still working on the longie of 20 Mar., darling, but I expect to have it finished by tomorrow. I'll send the proofs back then.

Thanks, again, honey, for everything—Kiss my precious punkin for me—very thoroughly, and know that I will be envying you each kiss. I adore you both, my adorable girls—Love to all

Your devoted Phil

Post #612 - March 22, 1945 I Keep Wondering, Almost Constantly Whether or Not I Shall See You in ’45 and Everything Looks So Calm and Peaceful, That It Strikes Me as a Distinct Paradox That War Planes are Droning in the Sky

 

March 22, 1945

My darling,

There was no mail today and since I haven’t much to say anyway, I’m going to write instead of going over to 4920 to type. I did receive an invitation to Marie Presti’s wedding, which is to take place March 31st at the church at 5th & Lindley, and hope to be able to attend. It rained all day and was generally miserable. I had a very full day at work and accomplished all I had set out to do.  As I contemplate the date it seems to me that the first quarter of ’45 has literally flown. I keep wondering, almost constantly whether or not I shall see you in ’45. If the war does not end very shortly I shall give up hope of seeing you this year. Darling, I miss you so terribly much—sometimes I feel that if I don’t see you soon I’ll simply die. Adele awoke early, after a quiet night (for a change) with this remark, “Mommy, it’s raining. It’s pouring!” Each night she talks to your picture and asks you how you are & when you’re coming home. We both love you so much!

Your Eve

22 March 1945

My Sweet,

Just finished another full day at work, and thought I’d take the tail end of it to get off my daily letter to  you. The weather today is downright wonderful. Everything looks so calm and peaceful, that it strikes me as a distinct paradox that war planes are droning in the sky. However, there is a general feeling that the hum won’t last much longer. The English papers are saying that the next big battle will be the last one. To be perfectly frank, baby, if it weren’t for the fact that a good many of us are slated for the Pacific Theater (no one knows who, or how many of us yet), I would be a pretty happy guy. Right now, I, and many others in my situation, am hoping that we’ll be able to see some time at home first, if we are going to the Pacific. The Secretary of War, Mr. Stinson (just by way of building up our morale, I suppose) has stated that the great majority of men now in the ETO will, after Germany collapses, see action against Japan, and that some units will go direct from here to the Pacific Theater. So you see, Chippie, the prospect is none too bright. I wonder how you feel when you read such statements, and I also question the wisdom of making such statements for the service men to read. It strikes me as very strange that the gov’t. should spend millions of dollars on “special services” in their well-meant and well-appreciated efforts to maintain high morale in the services—and then undo all their good work with a small paragraph in the papers by our esteemed Secretary or some other high official. To top it off, the “high officials,” who should know what is in the offing, often come out with statements that contradict each other. I’ve been in the Army too long now to be influenced too thoroughly by what anyone says, but I deplore the fact that you have to read such depressing stuff, my darling. I can just imagine how bitter you must feel about it all—However, Sweet, there is always the consoling thought that things will, in actuality, work out better than those in high places would have you believe. They have been wrong so many times, that I no longer place any faith in any statements pertaining to the future—no matter how authoritative the source. Just continue to be patient and brave, my lovely, and, whatever happens, place your utmost faith in the eventual safe return of the guy who adores you,

Your Phil

P.S. My best love to the punkin—and all.

Post #611 - March 21, 1945 Sylvia's Mother was Mom’s Next Door Neighbor 28 Years Ago and Everything Looks and Smells So Appetizing That I Can Hardly Restrain Myself from Sampling It

 

3/21/45

My sweet:

There were two pieces of mail for me today - your v-mail of 14/Mar and Milt's letter of 13/Mar. You ask one question - what my reaction is when Adele does something cute or smart. Frankly, honey, there isn't much of any reaction. I simply look upon her and wonder how anything like it could come from such a little person, that’s all. She's constantly surprising me with her remarks. The other morning Harry was teasing Diana with a piece of bread, and Adele remarked: "Stop teasing her, Harry,” which made us all laugh. She was so deadly serious when she said it that you couldn't help laughing.

I feel much better today than I've felt for almost a week and I’m going to do my very best to get to bed as early as possible. I was so dead tired when I got to bed last night that I couldn't sleep. All this week I've been getting into work later than usual and so far this week Mr. Bellet hasn't been in. He had a cold and his brother, who is a doctor, suggested that he rest up for a few days. He may stay out the entire week, which is extra special good news for all of his employees. Perhaps he does not realize it, but he's giving our nerves a rest, too. He asked me to stop over to the house this evening so that he could go over the day's work with me and I'm going over there for a little while when I finish this.

Instead of the terrific heat, which had been prevalent for the past few days, we had rain all day and it became much cooler, just as the weatherman predicted. So - it was back to the snowsuit and sleepers for Adele. Only last night I had changed her to seersucker pajamas! What goofy weather!

You've heard me speak of Milt's girlfriend Sylvia several times. Well, mom happened to remember the other evening that Sylvia's mother was her next door neighbor 28 years ago when she (mom) lived on Cantrell Street, shortly after coming to this country. Did I hear you say something about this being a small world? By the way, the Brown’s car burned in a fire that took place at the garage where the car is kept. Luckily the car is insured and the only good thing left is the motor. I don't know what they will do about it. It doesn't pay to have it fixed these days. If I were them I'd get what I could and save it to buy another car after the war. They haven't heard from Syd for almost two weeks, so they presume he's returned overseas. He was stationed somewhere in Virginia last they heard from him.

It's a pleasure to receive mail so regularly from you, sweet, and all I can say is to keep up the good work. Some day I hope to catch up on my movies, just as you seem to be doing now. I believe you've seen at least 50 to my one - no kiddin'. I can't even remember the titles of the pictures you see, as most of them are not familiar to me. Seems like I've sort of lost track of movies, somehow. Good night for now, baby, I'm so hungry for you and I'd like very much to hold you very close and tell you just once more what I’ve been telling you all these years - that I adore you, my dearest one.

Your Eve

21 March 1945

Darling Chippie,

Today, the first day of Spring, was a model of what a real Spring day should be. The sun shone in a cloudless sky, and the fresh breeze was laden with the fragrance of green, growing things. However, I wasn’t free to take a long ride thru the country-side, or play ball, or do any of the things that such a day makes you want to do. I had plenty to do in the Orderly Room, and was kept busy all day. This evening, in the line of relaxation, I had a choice between the movies or the dance (or both, if I wanted to skip writing tonight), so I decided to make the first show, which would leave me time to write. Trouble is, I received no mail today, and after telling you all the latest news in yesterday’s letter, I hardly know what to write about—I haven’t started on the package of food yet. I’m contemplating taking it in with me next time I visit Bert and Evelyn. Everything looks and smells so appetizing that I can hardly restrain myself from sampling it.—Wonder if it would be too much to ask you to send another just like it? Don't bother with the cigarettes—I get all I need, and don’t
go too far out of your way for candy, either, honey. You might “double up” on any of the other items that, possibly, you can procure easily.

Well, honey, what else can I tell you tonight? Any small talk I may be able to dream up would give you an entirely erroneous impression of what I am really thinking and feeling, but since you must know pretty well by now what goes on in my heart and mind, I won't repeat it in the limited space that's left. After all—if I told you that there isn’t, and never could be, any other girl in the world for me, or that I think you the loveliest, sweetest, dearest wife a fellow could have, or that I’m very, very proud to be your husband, it would only be a repetition of what I have said many times in the past,—so I won’t say it! But I do love you, Ev, so much!

Your Phil

Post #610 - March 20, 1945 Here ’tis Our Fourth Anniversary, but There was Nothing Unusual About the Day and This Morning, Just After I Rose, I Heard a Mighty Hum in the Sky

 

March 20, 1945

My dearest one,

Here ’tis our fourth anniversary, but there was nothing unusual about the day, except for the fact that H & G gave me a rose & blue brunch coat. I did receive two v-mails from you, dated March 12 & 13, which require no comment. The weather continues “hot” & uncomfortable, but the weatherman predicts it will be much cooler and normal soon.

I’m terribly weary & warm, having just finished bathing Adele, getting her to sleep, washing, pressing & sewing! I made up my mind to keep very busy so I wouldn’t have a minute to think & I believe I’ve succeeded. It’s sheer effort that is helping me to write this, as I am almost asleep.

Phil, my darling, we must be together for our “fifth.” (Just looking forward to the wait of a year turns my stomach.) I miss you so much, sweet, and my love grows ever stronger. I hope & pray that we’ll be together in a matter of months—life is so meaningless without you—I love you, Phil, dearest, & pray that your dreams & mine will come true in the near future, so that you can return to

Your

Eve

20 March 1945

My Darling Wife,

That’s a very special salutation for a very special girl on a very special day—Tonight, more than any night since last 20 March—I miss you, baby. All day today I’ve been thinking of another 20 March—you know which one I mean, and wondering just how much longer we’ll have to wait to keep that date in “1777”— Darling, the prospect of that happy occasion is so precious, that I get a lump in my throat just contemplating it. God grant it be soon! You’ll forgive me, Ev, dearest, if I don’t make this my customary “anniversary letter.” You see, Sweet, I have quite a lot to write about tonight, and I’ll never get done if I let myself get “wound up” on the subject. Bear with me, then, if I merely express the heartfelt wish that our next anniversary will find us together once more. I know that is your wish, too, my darling—

I received your very sweet long letter of 26 Feb. this afternoon that calls for a lot of “answering,” but before I get into that, I want to tell you what I did with the remainder of my leave—

Let’s see now—I believe I left you on the morning of the 19th—After I finished writing, I went ’round to Last’s Cafe for lunch. First, I stopped for Bert at his shop, intending to take him along, but he was busy with a salesman, and couldn’t leave. But my lunch was not a solitary one, because shortly after I seated myself, an elderly couple sat down opposite me, and almost immediately engaged me in conversation. We had a very nice chat while we were eating. During the dessert course—(ice cream, no less) they introduced themselves as Mr. & Mrs. Greenwood, gave me their address, which is a few miles outside Colchester, and told me they would be very happy if I would drop in and spend an evening with them sometime. Their three daughters are all in the service, and they confessed that they are very lonely as a consequence. Mrs. Greenwood, who is a gentle, refined, old lady seemed a bit embarrassed when Mr. Greenwood, who is her masculine counterpart, tendered me the invitation in all earnestness. Being the more acute of the two, I could see by her manner that she felt that a young? soldier like myself could hardly find any attraction in spending an evening with old people like themselves. In order to give me some incentive for doing so, she told me, almost shyly, that if I would come, she would make me a nice meal. They were so painfully eager to have me, but so diffident about showing it, that my heart went out to them in their loneliness. Some day, when I get the opportunity, I’ll drop in on them and show them that I would certainly enjoy visiting with them—

After lunch, I went to the movies to see “Sunday Dinner for a Soldier.” It was a frankly sentimental film, wholesome in its ideals, unashamedly tender in the portrayal of each and every character, and altogether the sort of film that we used to enjoy so much, my Sweet. Anne Baxter has a wonderful opportunity to show what she is capable of, and acquits herself with flying colors. She does a beautiful job of acting as Tessa, the girl with the “mother complex.” The kids (I forget their names) are so good, that I could hardly believe my eyes. John Hodiak I just don’t like—Seems like the gals find him very attractive (at least Evelyn and Betty did), but for my money, he is the most repulsive male who ever played leading man—it is his mouth I don’t like. However, lest I appear prejudiced by his looks, I will concede that he does very well by his part, too. Charles Winninger, the perennial, is, as always, superb. His portrayal of “Grandfeathers” is something to behold. I cannot recommend this film too highly, honey. My only regret was that you weren’t there to share it with me.

I came back to Bert’s shop, waited a half-hour or so for them to close up, and accompanied Mr. Cohen and Bert in his car to Old Heath. After we had tea, Evelyn and Betty (a friend and neighbor of the Woolfs) went off to see “Sunday Dinner—”, while Mr. Cohen, Bert and I settled down to a three-handed game of cards. About 9:30, I booked a cab to take me to the station at 11:00, but, as on a previous occasion, he never showed up, and I was stuck. There was only one thing to do then, so I did it. I called the CQ in the Orderly Room and told him what had happened; that I would be in next morning, and that he should notify Sgt. Murphy. Then I went to bed in the big, comfortable bed in the front room, which Mr. Cohen insisted I do when I protested that I could sleep just as well in the “air-raid bed” in the living-room. But he wouldn’t hear of it, and that’s the way it was. I was, unaccountably, very tired and sleepy when I hit the hay at midnight, and slept like a log ’til 8:30 in the morning. After breakfast, Mr. Cohen and I caught the bus into town, where, luckily, I met one of our trucks. I was the only passenger on the way back to base. The CQ had failed to report my call to Sgt. Murphy, but when that worthy missed me in the morning he called the CQ and asked if I had called in, so he knew why I was late. Capt. Crane, who was in the Orderly Room when I walked in, asked me about it. When I explained that the cabbie had disappointed me and left me stranded in Old Heath, he took it with good grace and said no more about it, for which I was very thankful. I wasted no time changing into my fatigues and getting to work—of which there was plenty. I was kept plenty busy for the rest of the day.

You may have noted, Chippie, that I had precious little time from the morning of the 19th ’til now to write, and it appears that I’ve gypped you out of a letter after all. Sorry, honey—

It’s almost time for lights out now, so I’ll have to quit writing for the time being. I have still to answer your letter of 26 Feb., but I’ll do that tomorrow.

Hasta mañana, then, sweetheart—I love you dearly—Love to the punkin—and all from

Your adoring Phil

24 March 1945

Hello again, darling—

As you have seen, I didn’t get the opportunity to continue with this for the last four days. However, since I did manage to get a V-mail off to you on each of those days, I know you will concede that I’m doing okay by you. All right—baby?

I am CQ tonight and am starting this early because I have a lot to say, and intend to make this a real longie. Before I begin answering your letter of the 26th Feb., though,—a few lines about what I did today.—

The weather continues perfect. There wasn’t a wisp of cloud in the sky all day, and the sun shone uninterruptedly. This morning, just after I rose, I heard a mighty hum in the sky. Before I looked, I knew what I would see—we’ve been expecting it for days and weeks now.

In the afternoon, I was called to the Classification Office to take a test to determine if I’m qualified to hold my rating as “Clerk-Typist.” The minimum requirement is 35 words per minute. Unfortunately, I never learned to use the touch system, although I do hit the keys with the right fingers, and I must look at the keyboard to make any kind of speed. Well, on the first try I scored 31 w.p.m., on the second try 34. By that time I was so jittery that I dropped back to 33 on the next try. But I was damned if I was going to let them take away my rating by that close a margin. If it had been 20 or 25 w.p.m., I would have given it up as hopeless (as indeed I thought it was—before I started). Finally, on the ninth attempt, I knocked out 39 w.p.m., with one error, which still gave me a bare passing grade of 36. Whew!

Forgot to tell you that I received your and Mom’s and H & G’s birthday greetings, together with two very nice letters, one from Mom, and one from Goldie, the latter containing the snapshot of Diana Jean. I hope to answer them within the next few days, but I’m through making promises that I’m not sure I’ll be able to keep. Thanks for the greeting, honey, and thank Mom and H & G for remembering me, too—just in case I don’t get the chance to do so myself.

And now to yours of the 26—On that day you received nine of my letters at once. I’m glad they pleased you, darling. You wondered why Lt. Toms saw fit to cut away part of that letter in which I discussed morals. He brought it to my attention that he couldn’t permit me to say anything detrimental to the character of the English women and our soldiers, and since I had done just that, to his way of thinking, he had to cut it out.

A few paragraphs later, you say some things that I’m not sure I want to understand. You say you are “a little worried with (my) strong feelings and ideals.” For the life of me, I just can’t grasp why my particular “feelings and ideals” should worry you. All this time, I had been laboring under the delusion that I was reassuring you! Further on, you make some statements that both amaze and frighten me—things like “I think, honey, that you’d be a lot better off if you’d simply relax and forget about ‘the fitness of things.’ I wish you’d learn to let yourself go and simply have a good time. To hell with what other people say and do! Now I’ve said it!”—And what have you said, Sweet? Frankly, I don’t get it! Do you mean that it wouldn’t bother you if I had relations with other women? I’d hate to believe that! Yet what interpretation am I to put to your words? I assure you, baby, that even if you could condone my behaving that way, it wouldn’t by a particle change my attitude or actions. You see, Chippie, feeling the way I do, I would only grow to hate myself (and possibly you, too) if I were so weak that I would permit my animal instincts to triumph over my sense of human decency. Loving you as I do, I couldn’t bring myself to touch you if I comported myself one whit differently from how I would have you, yourself, behave in my absence. I am firmly convinced that no girl in the world, however charming, could even for a moment, tempt me to the extent that I would sacrifice my own self-respect for any temporary pleasure she might be able to afford me. Do you understand that, Eve? If I hadn’t told you on a few previous occasions how I feel about all this, I might not be surprised by your too-subtle suggestions. I might even take advantage of your “generosity” were I someone who was “good” solely out of apprehension of being found out by his “other half,” and not having any moral scruples of his own. As it is, I can only assume that you are very far from understanding, in spite of my efforts to enlighten you, that marital promiscuity, even in its mildest form, both disgusts and horrifies me. I’m sure you know (from actual experience, at that) how strongly I have always felt about this—that is why I am so sorely puzzled by your seeming offer of “carte blanche.” Tell me, Sweet, just what would you think if I told you what you told me—in the very same words? I think  you would be just as confused as to my real meaning as I am of yours! You also know, I think, what I expect of you in this connection, and you know, too, that all my happiness—my very life (and believe that I’m not exaggerating!) depends on your faithfulness and constancy. Knowing all this, then, in all fairness to us both, I demand that you expect no less of me than I do of you. I’m very, very proud of what we had, Sweet, and I won’t abide anyone trying to cheapen it—no, not even  you! At this point, I am aware that my feelings (possibly too “strong” for your peace of mind, since you have said they “worry” you) have dictated to my pen, but you must realize, darling, that nothing is more important than that we understand each other perfectly in this matter. For this reason, I must ask you not  to speak in riddles ever again, even at the price of sacrificing your innate modesty to me. (There is no room for that–(modesty)— between us, anyway!) I must further ask you, for my own peace of mind, to please explain exactly what you had in mind when you wrote that paragraph. I’m not so thick that I could read what you said without realizing that you were suggesting much more than what the words, in themselves, indicate, so you needn’t bother to soothe my feelings by pretending that they don’t mean what I took them to mean. Please don’t misunderstand me, darling—I can well appreciate what prompted you to say what you did. It is perfectly evident to me that you pity me for my lack of “companionship”—to give it a nice name. Moreover, I would be unfeeling in the extreme if I did not appreciate and acknowledge your sympathy (even if it is uncalled for) and your generosity (even if it is misplaced). At worst, I can only blame you for a lack of understanding, and regret deeply, that my marital constancy means so little to you that you could say—(there’s no mistaking your meaning here, because you used the very same words once before when we were discussing the subject in bed one night). “The only time it bothers me is when it affects me directly, otherwise—.” What other meaning can the blank have than that you don’t care? That statement, Chippie, as innocent as you take it to be, cut very deeply—both times. Because, you see, I do care—very much indeed, and you don’t flatter me by admitting that it’s immaterial to you. I want you to care, don’t you see, dearest? But enough of this—I deplore the necessity for discussing a subject that is as distasteful to me as it must be to you, but I know you will admit that it was necessary that I try to make you understand why your well-meant, but obnoxious remarks affected me so unfavorably.

I see I have used up much time and space replying to one paragraph in your letter, but there are some questions that need answering. It is very late now, and I’m very tired and sleepy, so you’ll forgive me, I trust, if I answer them briefly—

S & D did send me a bonus of 15.00 last Xmas, and I did tell you about it in a letter shortly after Xmas. You can check me on that.

Your paragraph that told me the glad tidings that your mother and dad now own 4920 “clear” was well received. Congratulate them for me. It also served to remind me of something Bert and I were discussing the other day. Namely, the almost certain eventuality of post-war inflation, and the wisdom of putting your savings into property—now. Your argument, I anticipate, will be that real estate prices are sky-high now, and that it would be folly to buy under present conditions, but mark my word, Sweet, when the “boys” come home with their savings, bonuses, etc., prices will go still higher simply because everyone will have plenty of money to buy with, and there won’t be anything much to buy. Those things that are always salable (such as property—especially property) will bring fancier prices than you every dreamed possible—ketch? I’m not saying that there’s anything you can do about it right now, but it’s a point worth considering, don’t you think?

In writing of my recent birthday (and approaching senility—to hear you tell it) you say “Phil, I’m so dependent upon you for so many things!” Do you mind very much that I’m so selfish that that statement pleases me? I can’t help feeling proud that it is so. I earnestly hope that it pleases you just as much to contemplate that I am every bit as dependent on you, my darling—for everything!

Your closing paragraph, in wishing me “Happy Birthday,” is a model of tenderness and endearment. Thank you so much, my sweet. Thanks, too, for the 31 kisses (I know now that the extra one is for good luck), and consider that I am repaying you in kind herewith. Your own birthday is only a few days away, and you can bet I’m very much conscious of the fact! Happy birthday to you, too, honey, and may all your fondest dreams come true before your next! Perhaps you know a little better than ever before what I mean when I say “I adore you.” My love to all. I am

Your Phil

P.S. I’m holding the proofs another day ’cause I promised Evelyn I’d show them to her when they arrived. I’ll see her tomorrow and mail them back to you on the 26th (next day)—sure.