438th AAA AW BN
Wellfleet, Mass
Sept 8, 1943 8:15 pm
Wilma dear,
It was swell talking with you a while ago. I knew of course Monday that I would call you Wednesday evening but I never like to say I’ll do something only to find myself unable to do it. I’m never sure when I can break away and get to a phone.
I got your letter about 6 p.m. and it helped cheer me up. As I told you on the phone, I was sort of gloomy most of the day although I had received two letters earlier. One was from Col. Pereira in El Paso, the other from a Capt. Johnson, now at a Camp in California, formerly adjutant of our outfit, and a swell guy. Incidentally, Col. Pereira has already been to Juarez and says that nice thick steaks sell for one dollar. Boy! That’s were we should go Saturday nights. Also, – tequila flows like water.
I’m sorry I sounded so final in my first letter this week, dear. As you now know, that was the farthest thing from my mind. I like the way you have the weeks figured out. In my own mind I did the same, but of course I didn’t know your plans. As for coming up to Holyoke, I’d love it but I’ll have to talk it over with you in more detail when I see you, dear. Certain it is that I want to see you as much as I can before I leave. Dammit I was anxious to go over a short while ago and now I feel differently. What will the distance do to us I wonder? I’m a little bit afraid, dear. I just hope it won’t be too long.
As for your being mushy – no. I’m glad you’re pleased at the thought that I think of you often. Lord knows I do; and it was a nice thing to say – that you are tempted to write more often. Your address, dear, I know, and I guess you’ll find I’ll write you at the slightest provocation, if you’ll excuse the word. There’ll be a pause, no doubt, between my leaving the Point of Embarkation and arrival at our destination, but I’ll make up for it. When we get to a P.O.E. we are allowed to write, but no letter goes out until it is certain that the convoy has arrived. That will be the time dear when you’ll have to be patient. What a Hell of a thing a war is and why should we have to live thru one? Maybe our lives will be all the richer for it, who knows?
The light is getting my eyes again, dear, so I’ll stop soon. I won’t seal this though because I may have a chance to write a few lines in the a.m. There’s no chance, of course, of this going out tonite. By the way, if my letters sometimes get to you with smooches – you’ll understand won’t you dear? Conditions aren’t the best for neat writing. Goodnight for now, dear
Good morning dear –
The fog is clearing fast and I believe we’ll be able to fire. I think I told you that we had to go in Wed. night regardless. Well as usual there was a change – and we ought to be going back Friday.
I got into bed right after finishing writing you and it was pleasant falling asleep with my thoughts on the same subject, so to speak.
Sick call has started already and the usual number is here. I thought I’d finish this up now and run it down with the ambulance to So. Wellfleet. Mail leaves there at 7:30 a.m.
So I’ll stop now, dear – hoping to hear from you today and if not – hoping you’re thinking of me anyway. So long dear and
It was swell talking with you a while ago. I knew of course Monday that I would call you Wednesday evening but I never like to say I’ll do something only to find myself unable to do it. I’m never sure when I can break away and get to a phone.
I got your letter about 6 p.m. and it helped cheer me up. As I told you on the phone, I was sort of gloomy most of the day although I had received two letters earlier. One was from Col. Pereira in El Paso, the other from a Capt. Johnson, now at a Camp in California, formerly adjutant of our outfit, and a swell guy. Incidentally, Col. Pereira has already been to Juarez and says that nice thick steaks sell for one dollar. Boy! That’s were we should go Saturday nights. Also, – tequila flows like water.
I’m sorry I sounded so final in my first letter this week, dear. As you now know, that was the farthest thing from my mind. I like the way you have the weeks figured out. In my own mind I did the same, but of course I didn’t know your plans. As for coming up to Holyoke, I’d love it but I’ll have to talk it over with you in more detail when I see you, dear. Certain it is that I want to see you as much as I can before I leave. Dammit I was anxious to go over a short while ago and now I feel differently. What will the distance do to us I wonder? I’m a little bit afraid, dear. I just hope it won’t be too long.
As for your being mushy – no. I’m glad you’re pleased at the thought that I think of you often. Lord knows I do; and it was a nice thing to say – that you are tempted to write more often. Your address, dear, I know, and I guess you’ll find I’ll write you at the slightest provocation, if you’ll excuse the word. There’ll be a pause, no doubt, between my leaving the Point of Embarkation and arrival at our destination, but I’ll make up for it. When we get to a P.O.E. we are allowed to write, but no letter goes out until it is certain that the convoy has arrived. That will be the time dear when you’ll have to be patient. What a Hell of a thing a war is and why should we have to live thru one? Maybe our lives will be all the richer for it, who knows?
The light is getting my eyes again, dear, so I’ll stop soon. I won’t seal this though because I may have a chance to write a few lines in the a.m. There’s no chance, of course, of this going out tonite. By the way, if my letters sometimes get to you with smooches – you’ll understand won’t you dear? Conditions aren’t the best for neat writing. Goodnight for now, dear
Thursday a.m. 6:30
Good morning dear –
The fog is clearing fast and I believe we’ll be able to fire. I think I told you that we had to go in Wed. night regardless. Well as usual there was a change – and we ought to be going back Friday.
I got into bed right after finishing writing you and it was pleasant falling asleep with my thoughts on the same subject, so to speak.
Sick call has started already and the usual number is here. I thought I’d finish this up now and run it down with the ambulance to So. Wellfleet. Mail leaves there at 7:30 a.m.
So I’ll stop now, dear – hoping to hear from you today and if not – hoping you’re thinking of me anyway. So long dear and
Love
Greg
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