438th AAA AW BN
APO 527 % Postmaster, N.Y.
Sunday, Dec. 26, 1943 2100
England
Dearest one –
What does a fellow do when he’s in love, feels sentimental, lonely – and his sweetheart is a long long distance away? He sits down and writes to her, because that is all he can do, and he tells her about it. I wrote to you earlier today, darling – and I’ve just returned to my room again. I haven’t stopped thinking about you for a moment – and this is the only way I can show you. The radio is playing and every song or number, new or old, seems to have a particular significance. A little while ago someone sang “I’ll See You Again”. I have always liked the words to that song and now that I’m so far away from you they seem especially poignant.
Dearest – why did a war have to intervene before I met you and once I did, why did I have to leave you? Why must found happiness be measured and limited and will we be better off for it? I hope and pray that the Lord, having tried us, does not find us wanting and never lets us forget to be appreciative of ourselves, our families and our happiness once He allows us again to experience such pleasures. I think about that a great deal, darling, and I wonder how people who haven’t had things difficult for them at the start of life manage when they run into problems later on. I’ve seen such instances, dear, and very often they lead to an unhappy life. We must never let that happen in our case, sweetheart. We’ll have problems; that’s normal, but we should always be able to cope with them and look back to the days when we were apart and had to depend on our imaginations.
I’m not trying to write a sermon, dear. I haven’t been trained to do that. I’m just sitting here alone and putting myself – and therefore you – far ahead into the future. I’m not only putting us into the future, but I’m trying to see into it also. We’re not allowed a true picture – but I see no harm in imagining one. My one goal and ambition, darling, is to put both of us into a happy future and I’m willing to go thru any kind of hell and back so long as at the end of the road I have you. Humans are queer in estimation of their predicaments. I used to be unhappy when I couldn’t get you on the phone without waiting 15 minutes; then I dreaded the thought that perhaps I couldn’t get off on a week-end because we might be on the firing range; now I’m in England worrying because I’m so far away from you – and yet I’m so safe and sound. If I ever go into a more dangerous area – I’ll wonder why I complained so much when I was in England. But I’m not complaining, sweetheart, just longing. Just to be able to talk with you for a few minutes would be so gratifying. I miss you, dear – all the time; when I left Edwards I knew how much I loved you because I was aware of something I had never experienced before. The feeling has never left me – and it isn’t just a question of being lonesome. I’ve studied some of the other fellows around me. Some of them have fiancées; some are married. They are either better actors than I am – or more callous or less in love. I don’t know which, dear, but they never seem to talk as much about home, or their girl friends or wives – as I do about you, sweetheart. If their mail doesn’t get out at a certaintime, they don’t seem to care. I don’t mean to imply by any means that I’m the only one overseas who is in love with someone at home. But I do know this, darling, I am very much in love with you – and all these words add up to that thought. I want you to know it and feel it as if I were near you telling you all the time. Only if I can make you as aware of it as I am, will I feel satisfied.
Dearest – whatever you do, please remember that I love you with all the emotion and understanding that I am capable of, and that I shall continue to feel that way forever, as God is my witness. Goodnight, darling and be well. I’ll write again tomorrow and excuse me for being so serious.
All my love, dear
Greg
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