438th AAA AW BN
Camp Edwards, Mass
Oct. 20, 1943 0800
Dear Sweetheart –
Again it was wonderful talking with you, dear, although seeing you in person is oh – so much better. I had just come back from the movies when I called you. The picture, by the way, was rancid – “Tornado”, and should have been swept away while being made. At any rate it helped kill a couple of hours, dear.
I enjoyed your letter very much, too, darling – and it was a longie at that; I’m glad that you feel certain, dear, about me. That’s what I’ve been waiting to hear from you – and I know also that my own love for you is deep, sincere and will be everlasting. I’m as positive about that, darling, as I’ve ever been of anything important in my life so far.
The making of your record, dear, sounded amusing and I know you’re being modest when you compare your voice to that of Marjorie Mills. I’m sure it’s more like Lyn Fontaine or Gertrude Lawrence. However – if it is in fact like Marj. Mills’ voice – “Well, dear,” he said with his tongue in his cheek, “Marj. Mills’ voice is the sweetest on the radio.” Well, now that I got that out of my system, I can go on.
I shall be glad to meet the fellow you mentioned, dear, and do whatever I can to help him if he needs help. I’m particularly anxious to see whether he shakes. (You called him jerky.)
Today, dear, is just another day except that it’s Wednesday and we have no classes. That means that Charlie W., Pete, Bill S., Bruce S. and one or two others will go down to the Coon Club, have dinner, a few Martinis and spend a quiet evening. We usually return about 2300. It’s good relaxation.
Incidentally, darling, I was amused at your calling me ‘conservative’. I can be as radical, unconventional, (I could even add immoral) as anyone I know. I know I’ve been somewhat conservative with you, but I want you to be aware of my capabilities (or shortcomings). As for coming down to Edwards, dear, – I would love to have you spend the week-end with me; – I guess you know that. I object only to the inconvenience to you in getting here and leaving here. The connections are really very poor. I’d much rather meet you in Providence, for that matter – but that also presents problems of one sort or another. As a matter of fact – I’d just as soon go up to Holyoke – and this time – alone. We could really be together, by ourselves – and for the greatest length of time. I don’t mind the drive at all. If there’s any doubt in your mind at all about your going home – tell me, Sweetheart – and we’ll spend the week-end together in Holyoke. I know my folks won’t mind as long as I tell them I’m spending the week-end with you. Think it over, dear, and anything you say is fine with me.
Darling – I’ll stop now. It’s 0845 – with all the delays etc. and I want to get his off. I’ll call you this evening and I’m just hoping nothing new develops. Keep your fingers crossed.
So long for now and
Again it was wonderful talking with you, dear, although seeing you in person is oh – so much better. I had just come back from the movies when I called you. The picture, by the way, was rancid – “Tornado”, and should have been swept away while being made. At any rate it helped kill a couple of hours, dear.
I enjoyed your letter very much, too, darling – and it was a longie at that; I’m glad that you feel certain, dear, about me. That’s what I’ve been waiting to hear from you – and I know also that my own love for you is deep, sincere and will be everlasting. I’m as positive about that, darling, as I’ve ever been of anything important in my life so far.
The making of your record, dear, sounded amusing and I know you’re being modest when you compare your voice to that of Marjorie Mills. I’m sure it’s more like Lyn Fontaine or Gertrude Lawrence. However – if it is in fact like Marj. Mills’ voice – “Well, dear,” he said with his tongue in his cheek, “Marj. Mills’ voice is the sweetest on the radio.” Well, now that I got that out of my system, I can go on.
I shall be glad to meet the fellow you mentioned, dear, and do whatever I can to help him if he needs help. I’m particularly anxious to see whether he shakes. (You called him jerky.)
Today, dear, is just another day except that it’s Wednesday and we have no classes. That means that Charlie W., Pete, Bill S., Bruce S. and one or two others will go down to the Coon Club, have dinner, a few Martinis and spend a quiet evening. We usually return about 2300. It’s good relaxation.
Incidentally, darling, I was amused at your calling me ‘conservative’. I can be as radical, unconventional, (I could even add immoral) as anyone I know. I know I’ve been somewhat conservative with you, but I want you to be aware of my capabilities (or shortcomings). As for coming down to Edwards, dear, – I would love to have you spend the week-end with me; – I guess you know that. I object only to the inconvenience to you in getting here and leaving here. The connections are really very poor. I’d much rather meet you in Providence, for that matter – but that also presents problems of one sort or another. As a matter of fact – I’d just as soon go up to Holyoke – and this time – alone. We could really be together, by ourselves – and for the greatest length of time. I don’t mind the drive at all. If there’s any doubt in your mind at all about your going home – tell me, Sweetheart – and we’ll spend the week-end together in Holyoke. I know my folks won’t mind as long as I tell them I’m spending the week-end with you. Think it over, dear, and anything you say is fine with me.
Darling – I’ll stop now. It’s 0845 – with all the delays etc. and I want to get his off. I’ll call you this evening and I’m just hoping nothing new develops. Keep your fingers crossed.
So long for now and
All my love
Greg
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