24 December, 1943

438^th AAA AW BN

APO 527 % Postmaster, N.Y.

Friday, Dec. 24, 1943 1100

England

Wilma darling –

Good morning to you – or are you still sleeping, dear? Let’s see – it’s about 0600 at home – and working or no, you must be in bed – so I won’t disturb you and just go on writing quietly.

This is the earliest I’ve written you for a long time, Sweetheart, and it’s because there happens to be a lull in activities just at this moment. I can remember writing you at 0700 when I was back at Edwards – Now the mail doesn’t go out until about 1300 – so I usually have plenty of time. I’ve been writing on one day and the letters have gone out the next so you can actually deduct one day’s time in transit.

In one of your letters you mention that you re-read my letters. If you get many more – it seems to me you’ll have to divide them into volumes, dear – because I’ve sent you a whole lot of them.

Last night I got a fake thrill, two of them as a matter of fact. First – someone came into our quarters and said there were 7 bags of mail for the battalion. That was what we’d been waiting for. A short time later someone else came in and said that the mail turned out to be all packages, newspapers and periodicals – but that there was a letter for me. Well Hallelujah! I tore down to battalion headquarters and after looking all over the place – they found my letter – but darling – it wasn’t from you. It was from a friend of mine who is stationed in England and who found my APO number. Well, dear, I was pretty disappointed because I sure was expecting to spend a pleasant evening reading your letters – but as I’ve said before, sic transit gloria mundi, c’est la guere, a whippoorwill’s warble in apple blossom time, and anything else you can think of.

Well – I went up to the Club with nothing to do. I had seen the picture they were going to show, and I was feeling pretty blue. But thanks to the telephone service in England, I managed to kill a couple of hours’ time before the evening was over. The letter I had received contained a telephone number for me to call this fellow. The number was [cut out by censor]. That sounded all right to me and after procuring what I thought would be enough shillings, sixpences and pences – I started to make the call. I have never run into a more stupid bunch of people in my life than the English operators. I finally ended up talking to someone I believe must have been the President of the company, if they have a President – and still no luck. All insisted they didn’t know the exchange. Well that seemed possible, but what about looking it up? They said they didn’t know how to go about it; did I have any idea? I was flabbergasted but determined to get my call through. That’s as far as I got, Sweetheart. I never did get it through – even though at one time I had the Central Red Cross working for my side, too.

When I gave up, it was after 2100 and time for me to go to my quarters, and bed. But I was satisfied, dear, because I had managed to kill an evening – and that’s the thing most desired around here.

This morning was not too busy, although I had a couple of accident cases, one of whom needed a few sutures in two fingers. When I finish this letter, I’m going upstairs to the laboratory and get my ultra-violet treatment. What a way to fight a war!

I had an interesting case yesterday of a soldier with a normal temperature, but with a cough. He looked sick to me, although a couple of other doctors were willing to let him go. I kept listening to his chest and finally convinced myself he had some pathology, probably early pneumonia. I had him admitted and ordered an x-ray. I’ll be damned if the plate didn’t show an early pneumonia on the field and I was pleased that my ears were still acute enough to hear some early signs. Have to stop now, dear – will continue later.

1700

Sweetheart –

I’m sorry I took so long in getting back. You must be having your lunch now. I remember well the occasions when I had lunch or dinner at your home. It was becoming more and more informal and natural for me – and I suppose for you too, dear. I never did get the opportunity of having your folks out with us as our guests, did I? Time ran out so fast once it got going. Things kept being postponed and I remember being a bit impatient. What a fool a man can be! The only thing I’m sorry was postponed was our engagement. That would have been a nice thing to have with me as a memory and token. Sometimes, darling, I become so afraid about us; I know we love each other and yet I realize that my hold on you is so tenuous. Not that an engagement is necessarily binding, but it might make a difference. I don’t want it to in our case, dear. I just keep wondering if you got to know me enough to continue to love me while I’m away. I know I could have held your love if I were around. I’m not being doubtful or suspicious, dearest – just speculative and real.

For my own part – as I’ve written you before many times, I suspect, I love you and want to marry you and intend to marry you – as soon as I get back. Whether I’m still in the Army or not. No one else in my life exists for me in that connection, darling, except you and I can’t impress that upon you too much.

Absence does make me grow even fonder for you and even if I tried I can’t conceive of caring for anyone as much as I do for you. I have never been able to visualize or dream about any girls as my wife, as someone with whom to spend the rest of my life, someone to confide in, worry with, have a family with and live life with – as I have with you, dear. The reason? No – not part of a plan that you fit into; you once suspected that, I remember – but I think you must give me credit for more sense than that. No, darling; it’s just that after I had been out with you a few times I learned to love your spontaneity, your love for life, your manner and bearing, you’re freedom. I soon realized that you embodied the things in a woman that I had been looking for and had never quite found. So despite the brevity of the courtship – if you want to call it that – I’m convinced we were meant for each other darling and I want you to keep feeling the same way.

Well, I did get serious, dear – didn’t I? The minutes have slipped by and the boys are now yelling – yes, yelling for me to get going to mess – so I’ll be stopping again. It will be a quiet Christmas Eve here, dear – but I don’t mind – as long as I have my thoughts of you. A Merry Christmas, Sweetheart – and a New Year that gives us the happiness we both want so much. I wonder if you got my Cablegram.

My best wishes also to your folks and Mary and tell them had I been in the States I would have liked nothing better than to have spent the evening with all of you. Regards from Pete and Charlie who both send their love.

So long for now, darling – and all my love to you.

Greg.