I mean – since yesterday. Armistice Day today and what to do about it – let’s put out the light and go to bed. No, No – on second thought, yes! yes! I guess that, plus the Armistice – will have to wait a while, dear, but it should be worth waiting for. I think the Germans will probably remember this Armistice Day more than we will, unless I’m mistaken.
Last night I had a pretty quiet evening. When I finished my letter writing, I read a little – Time Magazine – and at 2100 I went to my quarters. I listened to the radio for about an hour and then fell asleep. It was a very quiet night – almost ominously so – and I found myself awakening at 0400 for no apparent reason; I guess I just wasn’t tired. I slept a total of about another hour between then and 0745 and then I got up. This a.m. I went out to A Battery again and returned here at 1100 and took care of a couple of patients. Our noon meal was delayed awhile due to a couple of minor incidents, but we finally got it. This afternoon I’d like to see a snappy football game, but instead I’ll stick around the Dispensary, darling, and write you. Now don’t pout, dear, I did not say I’d rather go to a game than write you. I guess you know dear that I love to write you more than anything else I do of a day – except possibly to read your letters – and I sure love that.
So Bea got married – and you cried, darling. If you want to cry at ours – well, you can – but I’m willing to bet I’ll have you laughing most of the time. This war has been a serious one, on the whole, dear – and it still is, for that matter. I haven’t been serious all of the time – but I owe my mind and myself a lot more gaiety then I’ve had in recent months. Therefore I’m warning you, sweetheart, I’m going to take it out on you. I like the way you plan on being my wife and how we’ll get along. I’m glad you feel you’ll be a devoted one, too; I’m sure you will be, and rest assured, dear, I won’t take advantage of you. How could I and still love you? And I do love you.
Your news of Irving and his illness was the first I had heard of it. I haven’t written to ask the folks about it because they’d worry over the fact that I might be worrying. Irving had had 2 or 3 attacks of angina pectoris, bad enough to have warranted having his heart checked with an electrocardiagram. When I read your first statement about his being taken to the hospital, I was really concerned, dear, because a coronary attack often simulates a gall-bladder attack, and vice versa; and I know Irv has been working quite strenuously. I was put at ease, though, when you wrote that he had returned home the next day – because had it been his heart, he would never have been allowed home so soon, as you know – of course. I hope he takes care of himself.
It’s swell of you to be so considerate about my mother, darling, and you do understand her. I could see that when you wrote about not wanting to call her the day Lawrence left because it might make her cry. She’s so darned sensitive; I wish there were some medicine available to make her a little less so; she’d be much better off, but I guess you can’t change her. I hope Law gets into the habit of jotting home a note frequently. It will make her feel a whole lot better.
What a question you ask – am I glad we became engaged? You ought to be spanked for even thinking it, darling. You know how happy it made me – and how happy it has kept me. I’ve told you before dear and I’ll tell you again; I consider myself the luckiest guy around – being engaged to you; you just can’t possibly realize what it has meant to me. I’ve been blue and down in the dumps a good bit – I suppose – but always I can see a silver lining when I realize that after all – regardless of anything else – I have you to come back to. That always changes the whole picture and I can then damn the Army, damn Army medicine – and feel that with you to help me – I’ll be able to tackle our future – one way or the other – after the war. Without that thought, sweetheart, believe me when I say it – this war and my set-up in it, would be completely unbearable. You – and only you, dear, make all the difference in the world.
That’s all for now, darling, I’ll have to take care of a couple of things before chow. Regards and love to the folks; Pete – whom I saw yesterday – sends his best regards, too – by the way. So long until tomorrow, dear –