31 January, 1944

438^th AAA AW BN

APO 527 % Postmaster, N.Y.

England

31 January, 1944    1600

Dearest sweetheart -

First of all – your picture came today! And I love it! I didn’t want to let you know how anxious I was about getting it, darling, because I was really afraid it might have been lost – but sooner or later everything gets here I guess. I kept trying to remember what the picture looked like, dear – and now that it’s here – it’s swell. And I like what you wrote on it, too. I’ve already shown it to the boys and they feel better now, too, because they’ve been wanting to see what I’ve been talking about. Now everything’s fine. I like the folder very much, darling, and rather than keep it as a wallet right now – I’ve got it up on a small shelf near my bed where I can see it every time I enter my room.

In connection with pictures, Sweetheart, I haven’t neglected your request about a picture of myself for you. I have had two sets done already (three, counting Camp Edwards) and I can’t seem to get one I would like to send you. You have enough bad ones of me as it is. The last set I had done in London – a few weeks ago. Although they’re glad enough to take your money, they whisk you in and out before you know it. They’re all busy and independent. However dear – I’ll try again.

This morning I came back from London. What! Again! Yes – but I hadn’t planned to go particularly, this time. As I wrote you – according to the schedule – we get our 2 days off about every 14 days. If someone can’t make it – you move up. If you can’t take your turn – you must wait for the next series – so that you may have to wait about 4 weeks before getting a little time off. If I were going out evenings, I wouldn’t mind – but I’ve just been taking it easy, sleeping and reading – so the change is good.

Well, darling, Sat. a.m. I was given the alternative of taking 2 days or missing my turn. I hadn’t planned on it and no one else was going – but I went just the same. I got into London in the late p.m. and looked around for a hotel. It was rather easy because at the end of the month the boys are broke and stay away in droves. I got a fairly nice room – with bath – for one guinea a nite. (A guinea is one pound and one shilling – or 21 shillings or about $4.20.) I took a bath, a short nap – and then walked out to look around. I don’t like to be alone very often, especially when I’m thinking ‘hard’ of you, sweetheart, but London is a big city and just watching the mixture of people you can spend an evening – and the point is – I was out of camp. I got to bed early and slept late.

Sunday p.m. I read the Sunday paper and then went for a walk to Hyde Park to listen to the soap-box orations for which Hyde Park is famous. They talk about everything, but most usually against the gov’t, war etc. People stand around and listen and then walk away. There are no demonstrations or anything like it.

Early evening, dear, I thought I’d go to a movie. I found that I had seen most of the movies, but I came across a place that showed French pictures – so I went in. I saw an interesting picture ‘Un Carnet de Bal’ – or ‘A Dance Programme’ – and it referred to the programmes girls used to have when they went to a prom and exchanged dances. The picture deals with a rich woman whose husband dies; She comes across the programme and decides to look up the various fellows whose names were written down. The picture is a series of separate scenes, thinly woven together.

I hope I’m not boring you, Sweetheart, with this account – but I want you to know what I do when I’m off. Anyway – I got out of the movie about 8:30 and was hungry – but not for English food. It really is awful, darling – even in the best hotels. I asked someone where I could get some Chinese food – and sure enough, after stumbling around in the black-out, I found a rather nice place. It was much like our Chinese restaurants, but they call their dishes by different names. I managed to get something that looked and tasted like Sub-gum Chow Mein and it sure was good. Remember when we had Chinese food last, darling? I sat there by myself, dear, and boy how I missed you! I then went back to the Hotel, slept, and made a 0650 train back here. It really was a restful trip – and I’m getting to know London, Sweetheart. If we can ever get over here together, I think I’ll be able to show you around.

I haven’t forgotten today was my birthday, dear. I took out the letter you wrote me sometime ago in which you made some nice wishes for me and us and I’ve re-read it. That, for now, will be my celebration – but again, darling – we’ll make this one up – after the war.

Right now I’ve got to go pay my men – this being the end of the month, and then I’ve got to take care of a few details. I’ll write again tomorrow, dearest – and I love your picture because it brings you a little nearer to me. Gosh, how I’d love to have you in my arms tonight! I missed you so much while I was in London – even more than in Camp, I think, because I’m so envious of couples I see all over. But I’m satisfied, darling – because I love you and that love will hold us together until the day I get back and we consummate that love.

So long for now, Sweetheart, and on this my Birthday, I wish for both of us a happy long lifetime of richly wedded companionship and mutual affection and admiration. I think we have all of that now, dear – all but the wedded – and we’re coming to that I know –

All my love,

Greg.

Regards to everyone, dear

Love

G

30 January, 1944

No letter today. Just this:

* TIDBIT *

[Note from FOURTHCHILD: Upon his return from London, Greg received the orders shown below. His name has been removed, as usual, for privacy reasons. The order was issued by Colonel Plank and signed by David C. Bunin, 1st Lt, AGD, Asst Adj Gen. Some abbreviations are explained in brackets and others are listed below the orders. Also below the orders is a *TIDBIT* within a *TIDBIT* about Colonel Plank.]

RESTRICTED
HQ EBS SOS ETOUSA APO 517

PAC TWX LN-4301, Hq SOS, 10 Sept 1943, the following named O [officers] will proceed o/a [on or about] 7 Feb 1944 to the Royal Society of Medicine, 1 Wimpole St, London,W.1. on temp dy [temporary duty] to attend the Inter-Allied Medical Conference on War Medicine, to be held on 7 Feb, at 0900 hours, and upon completion of such temp dy will return to proper sta [station].

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SOME ABBREVIATIONS

 HQ = Headquarters
EBS =Eastern Base Section
SOS=Services of Supply
ETOUSA =European Theater of Operations, US Army
AGD=Adjutant General's Department

*TIDBIT * within a *TIDBIT*

Colonel Ewart Gladstone Plank, who gave these orders, was a Deputy Chief of Staff in Britain who grew up in Missouri. He is better known for having written a memorandum reflecting his exceedingly racist concerns about Black soldiers. Graham H. Smith wrote the following in When Jim Crow Met John Bull: Black American Soldiers in World War II Britain, Tauris, London, 1987 (pp 113-114):

"Possibly the most extraordinary attempt from the American military to provide guidelines on the issue of commanding black troops came from Colonel Plank on 15 July 1943...

Colored soldiers are akin to well-meaning but irresponsible children... Generally they cannot be trusted to tell the truth, to execute complicated orders, or act on their own initiative except in certain individual cases... the colored race are [sic] easily led, extremely responsive, and under stress of certain influences such as excitement, fear, religion, dope, liquor... they can change form with amazing rapidity from a kind or bashful individual to one of brazen boldness or madness, or become hysterical... The colored man does not look for work. He must be assigned a specific task that will keep him busy... The colored individual likes to 'doll up,' strut, brag and show off. He likes to be distinctive and stand out from the others. Everything possible should be used to encourage this... In the selection of NCOs the real black bosses should be picked rather than the lighter 'smart boy.'

Plank gave special attention to the problems which Great Britain was presenting, and in doing so made some judgments which would quite clearly have distressed the female inhabitants of the country. The particular difficulty, as he saw it, was the problem of black solder/white girl relationships. The Colonel saw the situation very simply: for him three types of girls associated with black soldiers, and all could be easily categorized. There were the recognized prostitutes, who could be dealt with by the civil police; then there was the 'semi-respectable older woman of loose morals' looking as much for drinks as money; finally there was the problem of the minor, and this again could be solved by collaboration with the local police.

The limited circulation of Plank's unsigned memorandum succeeded in generating so much protest, from black and white officers alike, that Lieutenant General Devers, the Assistant Adjutant General, requested all copies of Plank's letter to be destroyed."

28 January, 1944

438^th AAA AW BN

APO 527 % Postmaster, N.Y.

England

28 January, 1944    1315

Wilma darling -

As I mentioned yesterday, I still don’t know your exact schedule, but if it’s a normal one – you should just be returning from lunch. Oh – heck – I forgot about the time difference. That means you’re probably just getting to work. Well – I hope you have a pleasant day, dear.

I haven’t mentioned the weather for some time, darling, but I can’t pass over the past few days. They’ve been beautiful, with the skies sunny all day (except for the hordes of our planes overhead) and the air fresh. It’s just like late March in New England.

In my present set-up I’ve been doing more visiting to the various sections of the batteries and as a result most of my mornings are spent getting into and out of a jeep. By now my cheeks are pink and I end up ravenously hungry, darling. I just got back from lunch and believe it or not dear I consumed and enjoyed five medium-sized pork chops and were they good! The food has been good on the whole, darling, but very plain and the big trouble has been in between meals. There’s just nothing to munch on and the days of ice cream, milk shakes, cokes etc. are gone until we get back, I guess. I think I’ll probably be able to stand it, though.

Last night was another quiet, but pleasant evening. Thru Special Services distribution I got hold of a January 10th Time Magazine – pony edition and I spent the evening getting up to date with America. Later in the evening a visiting Major dropped in to stay with us for a couple of days. He’s from Chicago and knew a fellow I once knew. We had a nice time chatting and reminiscing. Early this morning I gave a class in First Aid to some of the men. After I get through writing to you, darling, I’m going to the club and soak in a tub for a couple of hours. It’s funny how I’ve gotten to like a tub. I used to enjoy only a shower, probably because I was always in a hurry. But Sweetheart I have time on my hands these days.

By the way, in one of your letters you ask me to tell you more about things, dear. Honestly – I’m telling you just about everything that can be told in the mail. You must by now realize what our mission has been so far in England. Other than that I believe I’ve told you about everything that happens to me, day by day, dear. Frankly – I’m content to let matters stay as they are right now, because the Lord knows we could be doing a lot of other things.

I’ve just re-read one of your recent letters in which you tell me you believe your folks are getting used to the idea of us. That’s swell, darling, and will make it just so much more natural for us to get married when the time comes. Your asking me not to change dear, was interesting. We each have a mental picture of the other at the time we last saw each other. I’ve re-lived that very last evening a thousand times, by the way. We were alone – most of it – and the only factor that made us act pseudo-casual was the thought that we might see each other in New York. But I remember you so vividly those last two nights, and I don’t want you to change either, Sweetheart. I want you – and I know I’ll have you – just the way you were when I first loved you. As for me, Sweetheart – don’t be afraid. The war won’t do anything to me except to make me a patient waiter. My tastes won’t change and neither will my ideas on life; if anything those ideas are becoming more crystallized. If there’s horror to be seen – I’ve seen horror before – in my profession and I know it won’t affect me. I’ve always been simple in my tastes, darling, and I know I’ll remain so. I know that when next I hold you in my arms – it will be the same fellow who held you in his arms one Saturday night and said “so long” to you, and to himself in a low voice “auf wiederschen”.

Dearest – that’s all for now. Be well and don’t work too hard. You’ll have to have a lot of pep to keep up with me – you know. Regards to everyone and

All my love for now

Greg.

* TIDBIT *

about Time's Pony Edition

Time magazine produced what was called the "Pony Edition" during World War II to save on materials. These editions measured either 7-5/8" x 5-1/2" or 8-3/8" x 6-1/8", depending on where they were printed. The content was the same as the full-sized edition. In this photo, a U.S. Marine is reading a copy of a Time Pony Edition.

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The cover of the Time issue for January 10, 1944 is shown here:

27 January, 1944

438^th AAA AW BN

APO 527 % Postmaster, N.Y.

England

27 January, 1944    1330

Dearest sweetheart -

The mail has been erratic this week, but good. Although there have been gaps in the dates – the fact is, dear, that I’ve been hearing from you regularly now for several days. When I got a letter from you day before yesterday, stamped Jan. 14 – I was tickled, but last night, darling, I got one stamped January 17th and getting mail in 9 days is really something. It’s a shame it can’t be like that more often.

By now, sweetheart, you must be well entrenched in your job and yet I have not received the letters which tell me actually whom you’re working for; but I know it’s for at least a dress and sweater shop. That’s darn good experience, dear, in handling people for a starter and you won’t be sorry for it I’m sure. One of your letters should have more detail and I’m looking forward to it, the hours you work, when you get home – etc. It certainly should help pass the time more easily – and I know – that’s what we’re both striving for during this lonesome stage.

I don’t know the Dr. Aronoff you refer to, darling, but he’s certainly lucky to get back to Boston. But everyone agrees that after 19 months in Iceland – you deserve a trip home. You remember dear my mentioning another MD who went home recently from here after 19 mos. in Iceland and 5 mos. in England. I laughed at your description of him and his wife; it was short but concise – as they used to say in English Comp. By the way, dear, how does it feel to say casually “when I was at Holyoke?” In backing up your description, though, all I know is that a few years ago there was a mad rush of fellows to Edinburgh School of Med. – who didn’t get into a U.S. school – until a couple of years ago the AMA forbade it by refusing to grant AMA membership to graduates of foreign medical schools.

Your description, Sweetheart, of your emotions on a lonely Sunday afternoon in the winter are well appreciated by me – and I only wish I could take you in my arms and tell you how much I love you and understand you. You made a significant statement in this most recent letter of yours – when you said it was surprising how attached you became to me in so short a time – and how much you miss me. I think of the reverse myself – often, and it is very surprising and yet satisfying because if on such short notice we got to love each other so strongly and we’re willing to give up anyone else in our affections – then we really must have something that attracts us to each other, and just think how that something will cement us when we’re together.

There have been so many definitions of love that I would hardly attempt it. There’s always a poignancy about it that could conceivably be interpreted as sadness – but on the whole I find in loving you the same happy, invigorating, fulfilled experience that you must feel. It makes you feel that fundamentally – all is well or will be well with the world. I feel that, sweetheart – and that’s why I’ve told you so often that being in the war isn’t too hard for me – knowing and loving you. Without your love, darling, I know I would be as bitter as many other soldiers are.

I also got a letter from my father yesterday. He speaks again of you – and us Sweetheart – but I really can’t say I’m jealous. They really love you, dear – my folks do, and that makes me very happy; but then you remember I told you they would.

I’ve got to go now, dearest. I’m writing a history of the Medical Unit from its beginning – for submission to the Surgeon General’s office and it’s a headache – but I’m pretty well along with it now. Evenings here have been very very quiet. I haven’t been out of camp – except to a town on business one day – since my trip to London. But I don’t mind. I read, listen to the radio and think of you, darling. The latter is so easy and pleasant. So long for now, darling, and

All my love

Greg.

Regards!
     Love

G

* TIDBIT *

about US Troops in Iceland

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American Forces arriving in Iceland in 1942

When Hitler's army occupied Denmark on April 9th, 1940, communications between Denmark and Iceland were severed. Although Iceland by then was a fully-sovereign nation, Denmark still represented its foreign affairs and defense interests. On the 10th of April, Iceland elected to take control of its own foreign affairs, strictly adhering to a position of neutrality. However, a month later, on May 10, 1940, British military forces, fearing that Iceland may be another target for Hitler, invaded Iceland by sailing into Reykjavík harbor. Iceland protested this violation of neutrality, yet Icelanders were directed to treat the British troops as if they were guests. At the peak of their occupation of Iceland, the British had around 25,000 troops stationed there, all but eliminating unemployment in the Reykjavík area and other strategically important places.

As the need for men mounted on the British at home and in the Middle East, and while the U.S. was still a neutral nation, responsibility for Iceland's defense passed to the U.S. under a U.S.-Icelandic defense agreement in July of 1941. An American occupation force of up to 40,000 soldiers was eventually stationed on the island. This number of soldiers was greater than the number of all grown Icelandic men. A very detailed history of the planning and execution of the US deployment to Iceland can be found at: US Army In WWII: Guarding the US and its Outposts by Conn, Engleman and Fairchild. Also from that source came the photo above and the two below:

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"Main Street" of an Icelandic Camp


Mountains from Camp Pershing

In October 1946, Iceland and the U.S. agreed to end U.S. responsibility for the defense of Iceland. Still, the United States retained certain rights, such as the right to re-establish a military presence there, should war threaten. On March 30, 1949, amid an anti-NATO riot, Iceland became a charter member of NATO with the reservation that it would never take part in offensive action against another nation. Following the outbreak of the Korean War in 1950, and requests of NATO military authorities, the United States and the Icelandic Parliament again agreed that the U.S. should take responsibility for Iceland's defense. This agreement, signed on May 5, 1951, authorized a controversial U.S. military presence in Iceland, which remained until 2006. Although U.S. forces were ultimately withdrawn, the U.S. still assumes responsibility over the country's defense through NATO. However, since the withdrawal of U.S. forces, Norway, Denmark, Germany and other European nations have increased their defense and rescue cooperation with Iceland.

26 January, 1944 (Postcard)

[Note from FOURTHCHILD: This "real photo" postcard (left picture) was mailed on January 26th and received on February 23rd, 1944. It is a picture of St. Mary-le-Tower on Tower Street in Ipswich, about 40 miles from Honington. On the right is a picture of the church today.]

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* TIDBIT *

about the Bells at St Mary-le-Tower

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The information was provided by George Pipe at St Mary-le-Tower

"Change ringing, the traditional English method of sounding bells swinging full circle, evolved during the 17th century. The basis of the art is that having started from 'rounds' (ringing down the scale), each bell follows a pre-determined path amongst the others, so that the bells ring in a different order each time until they return again to rounds. Fully developed, this becomes an intricate and exacting science which today is keenly pursued by over forty thousand men and women of all ages. They form a well organized and important part of the Church and social life of England and indeed many other countries where campanology has taken root.

The bells and ringers of St Mary-le-Tower are amongst the best known in Britain. There were five bells and a Sanctus in 1553 of which Miles Graye I of Colchester recast the Treble in 1607 and the Tenor in 1610. In 1671 John Darbie of Ipswich recast the 2nd and 4th and added a Treble to make a ring of six. By the addition of two trebles by Christopher Hodson in 1688 this ring became the second octave in Suffolk. The first full peal recorded on the bells is Grandsire Triples on 12th December 1735. Here is a quick video showing three leads of Kent TB Max being rung on the glorious 12 at St Mary-le-Tower, Ipswich. The bells were being rung at the end of the railway guild tour to Ipswich. Rob Lane, who posted the video to YouTube, is ringing the 11th.

Two more Trebles to make ten were cast by Taylor in 1844/5. Then with the great Victorian rebuilding of 1865, the opportunity was taken to provide Suffolk with its only ring of twelve, for in the following year a new Treble and Tenor were added. In 1976, a full scale restoration took place with the recasting of eight of the bells by Taylor of Loughborough, including a fine new Tenor of 35cwt in the key of Dflat, retuning the remainder and rehanging with all new fittings. A sharp 2nd was added in 1980.

In 1999 the 5th was recast, and the 8th retuned. Bells 9, 10 and 11 were replaced with bells cast to a heavier weight. The old 9th went to Australia to form the Tenor of a ring of 8 in the key of F#. The old 10th is hung in the Tower as the 'passing' bell and the old 11th is also hung in the Tower as the Sanctus bell. Here the bells are shown by diameter, date, weight and note. The peal is tuned to the key of C# (545 Hz).

Diameter	Bell		Date	Weight	Note
2' 1"	Treble		1975	4-0-0	G#
2' 2"	2#		1980	4-2-15	G
2' 2.5"	2		1975	4-2-10	F#
2' 3.5"	3		1975	4-3-1	F
2' 5.5"	4		1975	5-2-26	D#
2' 7"	5		1975	6-1-12	C#
2' 8"	6		1975	6-2-26	C
3' 0"	7		1946	9-0-13	A#
3' 2.5"	8		1975	10-1-14	G#
3' 6.5"	9		1999	14-2-12	F#
3' 9.5"	10		1999	18-2-0	F
4' 3"	11		1999	25-1-21	D#
4' 9.5"	Tenor		1975	34-3-16	C#

There has been a ringing tradition at St Mary-le-Tower for over 300 years and certainly from 1880-1939 the St Mary-le-Tower society was the leading twelve-bell Company in the land. Over 400 peals have been run, here, many of them for notable occasions. George Pipe, who contributed this history to the St Mary-le-Tower website, is the great great great nephew of James Pipe, who rang a peal here in 1816.

26 January, 1944

438^th AAA AW BN

APO 527 % Postmaster, N.Y.

England

26 January, 1944     1400

Wilma darling -

Two more letters from you today as well as one from your Dad – and if you don’t think this has been a good week so far – you’re mistaken dear. And your letters are swell. Before I forget it, sweetheart, will you please stop belittling your letters? They are not ‘boring’ and not ‘nonsensical’, and whatever in the world makes you think so, dear? I love your letters for their directness and sincerity and because of these qualities – you become more vivid to me. I wouldn’t have you write them otherwise for anything, sweetheart. When you say you feel futile and frustrated after finishing one, dear – I do too, but I know it’s just a substitute and that after the war I’ll be able to tell you what and how I feel.

I love to have you think about the future, darling, because I do so much myself. I honestly don’t know what the set-up will be in Salem after the war. It seems that Mrs. Tucker is still holding an office for me and expects I’ll be back. Yet Frank M. will probably want to go back, too. Since Mrs. T. has converted my office into a living room – I don’t know what she has in mind. That office was a good spot – as you would more easily realize, had you lived in Salem, darling. Where we’ll live at first is also a mystery to me. There aren’t too many spots available and right now I think Marblehead is a bit too far. As for schooling – I honestly don’t know. The thought of a sort of honeymoon after the real one, combined with brushing up in medicine for a few months appeals to me strongly, darling; yet I know that the longer the war lasts – the more anxious will I be to get started right after our marriage.

In that connection, sweetheart, I’m pleased to read that your folks are getting used to the idea of the two of us. Believe me – they’re very sweet in not opposing it – even in your mind – and again, all I can say is I know I won’t let you down in any respect whatsoever.

Also – in connection with my future status in Salem – I got a swell letter yesterday from no less a person than Dr. Walter Phippen – about whom I’ve spoken so often. I know I’ve told you of his stature as a medical man, not only on the North Shore – but in Eastern medical circles as well, and frankly I was pleased that he took the trouble to write me. As I look back on it though, I did do a lot of work for him – because he mentioned that fact; he also mentioned that they were working hard at Salem H. to keep it as high grade as when we young fellows were there so that we wouldn’t be ashamed of it when we got back to take up where we left off. He closed by wishing a speedy return etc. and all in all – it was really a swell gesture on his part. I shall write him one of these days.

About your periodic distress, sweetheart – honestly there’s no known material for injection that has proved worthy of the trouble (at least there wasn’t any while I was in practice and I haven’t had opportunity for research in the Army, dear.) Very often the condition is greatly alleviated by married life – or after the birth of a child – so – darling bear with me a little while, will you? (Seems to me I’ve used that pun before?)

I think a lot of the time we’re away, dear, but never in terms of estrangement – in the actual meaning of the word. No doubt we’ll run through a whole gamut of emotions right before we re-meet, but oh! how I’m looking forward to that moment!

The book you mentioned, “Land Below the Winds”, sounds good. I’ve had a chance to do quite a bit more reading than for a long time – and I like it. I’m just finishing an interesting little book called “The Late George Apley” – by John P. Marquand; it was a Pulitzer prize novel – but it’s written in the form of a memoir. It’s particularly interesting because it traces the history of a Boston family, brings in many familiar scenes in Boston, Milton, Harvard, the North Shore etc. Starting tonight – I’m beginning “Oliver Wiswell” by Kenneth Roberts. The latter, incidentally, is the patient of a fellow I interned with at Beverly one year – Ken Cuneo, a swell fellow – who was practicing in Kennebunk, Me – before going into the Navy. I’ve always been in touch with him, visited once, and promised to stay longer as soon as I got married. He has a swell place up there; you’ll love his wife Mary who is a swell girl, too. She was from the Dutton family of Houghton-Dutton – remember, dear? They love to go fishing, hunting, golfing, etc. and I now we’ll be able to visit them from time to time. For that matter – a couple of other fellows I interned with – will be around New England – and our friendship was so close as interns – that we always kept in touch. I don’t know if I ever mentioned that fact to you – or not, but then dear – we had so little time. But put them on the list of our future friends – darling.

Well – I’ll close now, darling, but not without reminding you again that I love you more and feel closer to you now – than when I last saw you – and the reason is, dear, that with each passing day – our love is standing the test of time, and that is what counts. So long then, for now – and you have

All my love

Greg

Regards to the family and
that does include Mary

Love

G.

Enclosing some silly stuff from The Stars and Stripes, dear

Love

G.

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25 January, 1944

438^th AAA AW BN

APO 527 % Postmaster, N.Y.

England

25 January, 1944      1345

Dearest darling Wilma –

I ought to have my head examined for some of the things I write, dear, particularly anything that sounds lonesome. You wouldn’t believe me if I wrote I never was, but it’s something better not to write about. Honestly, darling, if I’ve sounded very lonesome in my letters I haven’t meant to. Perhaps my expression of love for you makes me sound that way in my writing.

Today I got the letters which yesterday I wrote were missing. That practically completes me up to date to January 9th – except for one letter in early January that must have told me about the job. In your letter of Dec 29 you refer to a lonesome type letter I wrote you earlier. Someone ought to kick me for having written it. I can only say, darling, that it was the holiday season, I hadn’t heard from you, and we are so far away from each other. I can also say that no one letter you ever wrote me so far did more to make me love you than that one I’m referring to which I received today. Really, darling, you are just the tonic I need. It was a swell letter and must have been difficult to write after having received a sad one from me. And your drawings!! There’s no doubt in my mind that one of our four children will be an artist – well, a cartoonist anyway. And when you drew a picture of a ‘smile’ I didn’t smile, dear, I roared. I’m glad you like the name of Mrs. H.G.A.; I like the sound of ‘Mrs.’; your picture depicting my kissing you or vice versa had me puzzled, darling. I didn’t know who was who. I tried to get a hint from your drawing of a diamond ring – as to what type you like; anyway you made it sparkle, sweetheart, so I’ll do the best I can; the bride and bridegroom look like a couple of sad-sacks (if you’re receiving the YANK, you’ll know what I mean, dear), but I like the idea! And finally, the pièce de resistance! The home! I can see it all, the picket fence, the arch of roses, the trees (what kind?), and the colonial (or was it?) style home with nursery for 4. Sweetheart – you shall have them all – and more, for you are without a doubt the sweetest and most lovable girl a fellow could ever hope for – and don’t think I don’t know it.

I also got a letter from your mother – written about the same time, as well as your letters of Jan. 1st. Your mother made some sweet wishes. I’m sorry I left the impression I was so lonesome – because she remembered about it too. I wasn’t worried about the Cornell Stationery, dearest. I used to have some nice Harvard stationery like that.

Sweetheart – I feel badly about people noticing your hanging around and not going anywhere. You are young and should be doing a great many things and maybe they’re correct. The Lord knows I don’t like the idea and yet, darling, I don’t want anyone to feel sorry for you. All I can say is that when the time comes I hope you can tell them I was worth waiting for and that you’ll feel proud of me. Anyway I get consolation out of the fact that almost anyone you might have met would have had to leave you eventually for some service or other – unless he were 4F – and so it might as well be I. Gosh – people are fundamentally selfish, aren’t they, dear?

One more thing I want to mention, darling, is your thoughtfulness about my folks. Needless to say, I love them and you are sweet to call them so frequently and to reassure them that all is well with me – even to the point of saying you heard from me on a day you didn’t. That shows me a great deal about your character, dear – and I like it. In every letter from home – your name is always mentioned and my mother and father never stop telling me how crazy they are over you and how much they love you. Darling, your in-laws will not be a problem! Barbara and Stephen write me that they love you. I’m still waiting for a letter from Ruth and Irv – but I know how much they think of you already – thru my Dad’s letters.

Gosh, Sweetheart, I could go on for page after page telling you why I love you. I’m not concealing a thing from you, dear. I’m occasionally lonesome – but 98% of the time I’m happy in my thoughts of us in the future. That thought easily overcomes everything else. When I hadn’t heard from you early in my days over here – it was natural to let my imagination develop my doubts. Your subsequent re-assurances, sweetness, thoughtfulness and sincerity – have instilled within me such a satisfied feeling that I can stand this damned war until the day I return to you. And return I will! Mentally and physically, darling, I’m in excellent shape – better than when I last saw you. I’m carefully watching myself because I have something to guard myself for. That – you will see for yourself.

I’ll close for now, sweetheart, not that I couldn’t go on writing. But tomorrow is another day and I may not hear from you. So I’ll save some ideas for then. Bless you, darling, for being the person you are and forgive me for my doubts and occasional sadnesses. I believe I have mastered both. For now, dearest, so long and you have and will eternally have –

All my love.

Greg.

Regards to everyone
in the family, dear.

Love

G.

24 January, 1944

438^th AAA AW BN

APO 527 % Postmaster, N.Y.

England

24 January, 1944    1620

My dearest Sweetheart -

Sometimes I hear from you, and when I get through reading you letters I feel so full of joy and love for you that I wonder at my own reactions. I don’t wonder darling that I’m in love with you; I know that; but the sensation is one of feeling so close to you, of wanting you, of realizing that someday you’ll be mine alone, of everything that is so mysteriously wonderful about two people in love – that I know you must know what I mean when I say I sometimes can’t quite analyze my reactions.

Sweetheart – as the days and weeks go by and become months I find that you are just as sweet and thoughtful in your letters as when you first told me you loved me. That is the gratifying thing to me, darling, that whatever magnetism first attracted us to each other is still holding and growing stronger. In one of your letters you warned me you would have to give me another lecture for even intimating that you might have hidden thoughts and feelings that you might try to veil from me – so as not to hurt me, for example. Darling – I didn’t write that to cause any trouble between us; I guess you know that. It’s merely that I feared I might not be able to hold you. Don’t censure me, dear, for my thoughts. I just couldn’t bear anything like that and when you’re alone as much as I am – the mind runs away with itself.

When I get letters like the ones I received today (Jan 6 and 7th) I just can’t tell you how much it means to me. The world looks good, the war seems short – and only one thing pervades me – the thought of both of us married and happy after the war. Believe me, sweetheart, we will be happy and if you only keep that in your mind always and don’t find waiting for me too difficult, I’ll make up for all the waiting, dear. You must have (and I know you do) faith in me.

Sometimes the letters I get are all out of sequence. The last letters have been like that. I have letters of the 29th and 30th of Dec; the 3rd, 6th 7th, and 9th of January. The ones in between are still missing. I got the one of the 9th before the ones of the 6th and 7th. In it you mentioned starting a job the next day and that came as a complete surprise, dear. The letters of the 6th and 7th also mentioned a job – but some earlier letter must have told me what it was. I’m anxious to hear what it is, but whatever the job – I know you’ll do well and will be liked by your employer.

Your Birthday wishes, Sweetheart, were swell and I certainly loved to read what you had to say – because I know you meant it.

Another thing that surprised me was the mention of a sweater and socks which you are making for me. It’s wonderful to read that you think of me so often, darling. I know you are – but it’s still wonderful to read it. I like heather and I like the stitch – as drawn by you and I’ll love playing golf in it Sweetheart – or just lounging around at home between or after hours.

And save the cribbage board. Every good home in Salem has one, dear. Say – what is honeymoon bridge, anyway? Is that two handed bridge? And if on a honeymoon, why play bridge?

I’m glad you get an occasional letter of mine as early as 1 week after mailing. Once in a while I’ve received one like that from you – and doesn’t it make things seem so much closer, dear? Incidentally, I didn’t think they’d allow that menu to go through – since it had the APO number of the Airbase on it, but apparently they are not concerned. I’ll admit my job sounds soft darling, but waiting for you isn’t – except when I realize that what I’m waiting for is worth it, and more.

I’ve got to go eat now, sweetheart. I hope you like your work – and I’m anxious to hear about it. Darling I love you more – the more I think about it and Lord how I think about it! So long for now and all my love

Greg

Regards!

23 January, 1944

438^th AAA AW BN

APO 527 % Postmaster, N.Y.

England

23 January, 1944     0900

Dearest darling -

It’s been some time since I wrote you so early in the day. Actually I like to because it seems to give me a good start for the rest of the day, dear.

As I wrote you by V-mail, yesterday was a busy day and involved my getting set up in a slightly different way than most recently. As you see, my APO is still the same and everything is actually status quo, darling, so don’t start worrying.

I’ve been re-reading the last batch of letters I received from you dear, and I enjoy them just as much with each new reading. There are several parts where I just couldn’t help laughing out loud. Way back in December, for example, when the so-called flu epidemic was on – it seems that Shirley was sick. I’m proud of your ability to take charge of things, dear. I have no doubt at all that you will make an all-round competent mother and wife – but then, I decided that a long time ago, sweetheart and that’s among the reasons for my loving you. What actually made me laugh about the Shirley incident was your account of the string running from one girl to the other, thru the corridor. That really must have been something. How any of you got much sleep, is beyond me.

From about the 1st week in December – up to graduation, dear, you really had a time – according to your letters. I knew you must have been studying hard, but unfortunately I wasn’t able to give you much comfort, was I? The net result is that you got your Bachelor of Arts degree, sweetheart, and again I’m very proud of my future wife. I really have a lot to be proud of in regards to you – and all I can say is that I’m ever-mindful of it. By the way – you ask me in one of your letters whether or not I like to eat in bed. Yes, dear, I guess I do – but – why eat?

I already mentioned a couple of times, I believe dear, that I sent you a little charm which I hope you like. It actually wasn’t sent out until day before yesterday – due to, shall I say, manufacturing difficulties? It’s a little thing – but took a lot of work and was done entirely by hand, without aid of machinery. The only thing that makes me tell you about this in advance, darling, is the fact that it is incomplete. It requires a chain for wearing and I cannot get one in England and I’ve tried at least 20 places. So if you decide you may want to wear it (and by no means, dear, do you have to) – I know you won’t have any trouble in procuring a chain in Boston.

When I got back from London the other day – there was a letter from Frank M. – of all people, or have I mentioned that already, darling? I’m not sure I did, but anyway he’s here in England – and that’s what I meant by “of all people”. He has the old APO number that I had – 515 and has been here just a short time I presume. So that’s someone else I must get together with. I’d really like to see him and talk things over. He was at home in Salem as recently as Christmas and he may have some news. The other people I haven’t looked up as yet are Elliot L. and Morris Z. – brother of Al – who is a Bombardier in a Fort and not far from me. Elliot is quite a jaunt from my direction and not on a main line; so far when I’ve been off – I’ve preferred to head for London.

Darling – your picture has not yet arrived and now I’m worried. It seems to me it should have come by now and yet – on talking with some of the boys who are expecting packages – some of them tell me they’ve heard from home that parcels, etc. were sent out in early December. The fact is they don’t lose things in our mail service and it must be turning up soon. One more thing – dear – my wallet has been cleaned out of any and all pictures long ago! See?? Anyway – I’ll have a frame built for your picture and I plan to keep it on my desk. When I travel – I can keep it safely also, dear.

Sweetheart that’s all for now. I’ll write tomorrow and I hope you are well and still hopeful. I am, myself, and with you the same way – they can’t beat us, darling.

All my deepest love

Greg

Regards – How about your Aunt Bea’s address?

Love.

G.

22 January, 1944

V-MAIL

438^th AAA AW BN

APO 527 % Postmaster, N.Y.

England

22 January, 1944

Dearest Sweetheart,

It’s not often I resort to V-mail but today was a busy one and involved many changes. I’m still busy, dear, but I had to take a few minutes off to write a few lines.

I don’t expect any mail today, darling, but I’m expecting a few recent ones any day now. Yesterday I finally sent out the box of knives, forks, ash-trays and miscellaneous items – so when you see a large box for you, don’t expect too much. Your mother will probably think I’m crazy for troubling to send stuff like that across the ocean – but then, dear – we have our sentiments.

Tomorrow I’ll write you a long letter, darling; I still have some things to discuss with you – from the big batch of letters the other day. For now, dear, so long – and

All my love

Greg.

21 January, 1944

438^th AAA AW BN

APO 527 % Postmaster, N.Y.

England

21 January, 1944 1345

Dearest darling,

I’ve always appreciated the fact that you wrote me regularly but it hit me with a bang yesterday evening when the mail was distributed. I got 36 – count ‘em! 36 letters, darling and most of them were from you, believe it or not. There’s not a fellow here who has anyone write him more constantly – be it wife, girlfriend or fiancée. Before I forget it, dear, in one of your letters you seem almost surprised that I referred to you as my fiancée to one of the boys, here. I know we’re not officially engaged, but darling – when I think of you so often as my wife, fiancée actually seems awfully tame. I haven’t written that to anyone in the States because I wouldn’t want to embarrass you, dear. I wonder if we could get engaged by mail? I know the sort of ring I want you to have and I know my dad would help me get it. What do you think, darling, or do you just think I’m crazy? It’s really not as foolish as it may sound. I’d love nothing better. Let me know what you think.

Your letters, darling, go way back to November, even, but most are from the early days of December – up to around the 17th and 18th. It seems that a bunch of our mail was inadvertently shipped to Italy and had to be sent back here. It was most welcome, though, and believe me, dear, I spent a pleasant evening reading. My file is now almost complete. There are one or two gaps. I expect some more, too, because the last letter I had from you was written January 3.

One other thing that comes to my mind that you may think is foolish, namely – your mention of Stan, and his reference to his waning activities with Shirley, and his frequent talks with you. You know, darling, I’m an awfully jealous guy – and I just can’t help thinking about it. It seems to me he calls you an awful lot for a fellow who is supposed to be in love with another girl. I know you’ll excuse me, dear, for mentioning it – or I wouldn’t have said a word about it, but darling – I’m so far away and have so much time to think –

You are a real sweetheart in re-assuring me of your love for me, as you did in your letter of January 3rd. I believe you, darling, but like you – I like to be told. When you get a letter from me expressing doubt – blame it on the lonesomeness which sometimes just takes a hold of you and doesn’t let go. I love you and want you so much that I let my mind run away with itself at times. I just don’t want anything or anyone to ever come between us.

In reading your letters, day by day, as you approached graduation I got a marvelous running account of what you were thinking and doing. I hope to save as many of your letters as possible and some day we can re-read them. The problem is going to be one of space, though, because they’re mounting up. I have every one I’ve received since arriving here, dear. I also received your swell Christmas Card. It has an awfully sweet sentiment, dear, and I loved the few lines added as a footnote. Really, sweetheart, your faith in me, your repeated statements that you want to marry me, that you love no one but me – all that makes me so happy and confident that I can hardly contain myself. That I was so lucky to meet a girl like you is still incomprehensible to me – even granting that I’ve been rather a lucky fellow. I’ll keep loving you always, darling, for so many reasons that I can hardly enumerate them – but not the least of which is your sincerity and ability to give me hope and inspiration. When I get back and we’re married you will be what I’ve always wanted in a wife and I’ve wanted someone like you for so long a time, darling, that I know I will adequately appreciate you.

Dearest – there’s several other items you mentioned in your letters that I want to discuss with you, but I’ll have to leave it for now – because I have some work to do. I’ll write again tomorrow – but meanwhile – remember that I love you as deeply as I know how – and I always will, sweetheart.

All my love

Greg.

Regards to everyone

Love

G.

20 January, 1944

438^th AAA AW BN

APO 527 % Postmaster, N.Y.

England

Thursday, January 20, 1944   1530

Dearest Sweetheart –

I got back from London about an hour ago, changed clothes, washed and I’m now ready to write you, dear. I stopped at the mail office but there was no mail – which I couldn’t understand. However – a few minutes ago I was informed that they had just brought back 10 bags of mail and this must be the batch I’ve been waiting for. It better be, or I’ll be keenly disappointed. There was one letter for me – from Frank M. and his APO is 515 here in England. He hasn’t been here long. I’ll write him later. It will be nice if I can meet him on a pass. He says he was home for Christmas, the lucky stiff – so I may be able to get hold of some local news. So far he’s been following me wherever I’ve gone.

Well, darling, now about London. Having raced around on my first visit, I decided to just take it easy this time and relax. Pete couldn’t make it this trip, but I went in with a couple of nice fellows, Ted A. and Larry D.. We got to London about 1300 on Tuesday and checked in at the American Officers’ Red Cross Club – the Reindeer Club, so-called. They had rooms for us, and I must say, for the 1st time since I’ve had any contact with them, the Red Cross is doing a fine job here in England.

After washing, we just wandered around aimlessly, looked in shop windows, stopped at book stores etc. In the evening we went to the Piccadilly Hotel and had dinner and some rum (all they had). We got to bed early.

Wednesday, yesterday, I was determined to find out about the possibility of calling home and you, and also about making a broadcast. Concerning the former – I visited the central telephone office and was informed that at the present time – no calls were allowed, but that the ban might be lifted “one day”, as they put it. Darling I would give anything just to say ‘hello’ and tell you orally that I love you and hear you say the same. I’m not giving up, though, and I’ll try them again.

The BBC has several offices in London and I guess I hit everyone but the right one, dear. Each office sent me to another one and no one seemed to know anything much about the Sat. nite rebroadcast. Some of the English are really stupid. I didn’t follow through because I suspected anyway that it takes place on Thursdays. But I’ll try that again, too, dear.

Well – the boys wanted to round up some women – as is usual for the boys, but I didn’t so we split up for the late afternoon and evening. I preferred to wander around and watch people. England, or London, rather, is fascinating for its Cosmopolitan people. You see French, Polish, Norwegian, Yugoslav etc. officers all over, not to mention Scotch soldiers formally dressed in kilts – out walking or dancing with a girl. I’m still not used to it and find it amusing.

I decided to go to the Grosvenor House for tea. Everybody in England, everybody has tea from 4-6 pm. They stop their work; if you’re in a barber shop, a girl brings tea in to the barber; a fellow I know went to a matinée and everyone was served tea in the intermission between the 2nd and 3rd act. They’re crazy!

The Grosvenor House is very lovely and serves nice pastry with the tea. Incidentally, if you ask for no milk in the tea, they think you’re crazy. Well I sat down at a small table, or rather was seated. Next to me was a man of about 50 and we got to talking. He was waiting for his sister and brother-in-law to join him and asked me to, also. He was very interesting – Edwin Steiner – was his name, I don’t know his nationality – or should I say religion. About 1700, a couple aged about 50, also, came in and we were introduced. They were very interesting, had traveled in the U.S. in 1938 and we exchanged ideas and views. About 1800 tea is usually over. They asked me what my plans were and I had none, of course. Well they insisted I have dinner with them – and frankly, I didn’t mind accepting, because I hate to eat alone. We got into a cab and went to the Trocadero – which is really a very elaborate night club type restaurant (an ash-tray and plate is included in the trash I’m sending you, dear). We had some cocktails, etc. and then dinner – roast pigeon, by the way. It wasn’t bad either. They had that – or rabbit. Anyway we spent the entire evening there and they were really swell. We became quite friendly and at the end of the evening they all invited me to visit them at their home the next time I got to London. I don’t expect I will though, dear, because they live out of town in a place called Godalming, in Surrey. It helped pass a very pleasant and quiet evening though – and then I went back to the club and to bed. This a.m. we started back – and there you are again darling, with a full account of my activities. Perhaps the next time I go to London, I can arrange to meet Frank.

After we’ve been here 3 mos. – we’re entitled to a 7 days’ leave. Most everyone goes to Edinburgh for some reason or another. One fellow I know was able to buy some swell plaid material for the making of a dress. It’s not usually available – but if I ever get there – and can get some – do you like plaid, and what kind?

Darling – that’s all for now; I’m going out to see about the mail, and if I get my quota I ought to have a pleasant evening in store for me. Sweetheart – not one moment that I was away did I have you out of my mind. Always it was ‘wouldn’t it be wonderful if Wilma were here with me?’ Some day, though, darling, you will be, and it will be wonderful. Solong for now Sweetheart, until tomorrow.

All my love –

Greg.

Regards to the family

Love

G.

* TIDBIT *

about the Trocadero Restaurant
and J. Lyons & Co., Ltd.


Photo of ashtray taken from the Trocadero
(The bottom has the inscription: J. Lyons & Co. Ltd.)

London in the 1890's, unlike many European capitals, had no great restaurant. The Trocadero Restaurant of J. Lyons & Co., Ltd. opened in London in 1896 at a site on Shaftesbury Avenue near the theaters of the West End, which formerly had been occupied by the notorious Argyll Rooms, where wealthy men hired prostitutes. The new settings were magnificent in an Opera Baroque style, and the various Trocaderos of the English-speaking world have derived their names from this original, the epitome of grand Edwardian catering. Murals on Arthurian themes decorated the grand staircase, and the Long Bar catered to gentlemen only.

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Postcard of the Trocadero Entrance

J. Lyons & Co., Ltd. had been set up by tobacco salesmen Barnett Salmon, Isidore and Montague Gluckstein, as a mobile caterer providing meals at exhibitions and private functions in the 1890's. They felt it inappropriate to use their names, as tobacconists, and approached Joseph Lyons to run the new company. He agreed and became an employee and part owner of the new company - and ultimately Director, knighted in 1911.

Salmon & Gluckstein, Tobacconists

The first Lyons teashop opened in 1894 at 213 Piccadilly. It was the forerunner of some 250 white and gold fronted tea shops which occupied prominent positions in many of London's high streets and suburban towns and cities. Corner sites with two entrances were preferred. At one time seven teashops operated in London's Oxford Street alone. Food and beverage charges were identical in each tea shop and the highest standards of hygiene were demanded by management. A customer's complaint was a serious matter investigated at the highest level. Such attention to detail was one of the secrets of their success, for the name of Lyons had come to convey to the public a standard of good quality at a reasonable price. Their tea was said to be the best available and the blend used was never sold or made available to the public.

During the grim days of World War I, the Trocadero initiated the first "concert tea", where tea was served in the Empire Hall, accompanied by a full concert program. After WWI, cabaret was a feature of the Grill Room. An example can be seen here:

From these beginnings, Lyons became one of the largest catering and food manufacturing companies in the world. Always innovative and with an acute awareness of popular taste, Lyons brought a unique blend of showmanship, style and spectacle to its aim of combining high quality with value for money by maintaining control of all its manufacturing and servicing departments. Its world-leading food laboratory attracted many graduates from Oxford and Cambridge. In fact, Margaret Thatcher worked as a scientist in the laboratory before she became a member of the British Parliament and eventually Britain's first woman Prime Minister.

J. Lyons & Co. Ltd. expanded into building and operating hotels, laundries, tea estates, meat pie companies, ice-cream companies, tea and coffee companies, engineering works, jam and soft drink factories and confectionery manufacturing. They were the first to introduce frozen food to the British public. During WWII they managed one of the largest bomb-making facilities in the UK and their engineering works made a range of war material. They packed millions of rations for troops fighting in Asia and other parts of the world and bequeathed one of their teashops to the American personnel stationed at Grosvenor Square. Another of their tea shops formed part of the famous Rainbow Corner in Shaftsbury Avenue, near Piccadilly Circus.

After WWII the company embarked on a rebuilding program, expanding their operations into Europe and America. They acquired Baskin-Robbins Ice Cream and Dunkin Donuts. The Trocadero Restaurant closed on 13 February, 1965. Over-expansion and a difficult international economy in the 1970's began their demise. In 1978 Allied Breweries Ltd made an offer for the company which was accepted and Lyons lost its independence. It survived for a few years under new management but eventually it's component parts were gradually sold to pay for acquisitions associated with the drinks trade, notably Hiram Walker of Canada and Pedro Domecq of Spain. The Lyons company had survived for over 100 years having traded from 1887 until 1998 as J. Lyons & Co. Ltd.

19 January, 1944

No letter today. Just this:

* TIDBIT *

Greg wrote these postcards while relaxing at the American Officers' Red Cross Club during this 48-hour pass to London. He sent the first to Wilma's parents, and the second to Wilma. In both cases, the censor's stamp was placed over the text of the message, so that the address would be clear. The word "FREE" was written where a stamp would be placed. Wilma's annotations on the postcard sent to her parents indicate that it was received on the 25th of February, more than a month later.

CLICK ON IMAGES TO ENLARGE

A Royal Warrant allowed the words "Fine Art Publishers to their Majesties the King and Queen and to Her Majesty Queen Mary" to be imprinted in addition to a logo bearing the words "By Appointment". These two postcards seem to come from a series as they are labeled "Gravure Postcard London" Nos. 14E and 14D. That they bear words of encouragement regarding the war effort from the Prime Minister indicates they were produced early in the war, as the London factory was destroyed by bombs on the 29th of December, 1940.

Most Deltiologists (postcard collectors) know the name Raphael Tuck and Sons as one of the most prestigious and prolific postcard publishing companies. It was the sons of Raphael, Adolph Tuck in particular, who managed the explosive growth of this successful business in its early postcard era. Raphael had moved to England from Prussia in 1865 to set up a business selling picture frames from a small shop. By 1870 they were importing and publishing printed paper products.

In 1879 the young Adolph Tuck offered prizes of a total of 500 guineas (which would be about US $10,000 today) to design new Christmas cards. Five thousand designs were submitted and were judged by members of the Royal Academy. An exhibition was held in the Dudley Galleries in Piccadilly, London. Newspapers around the world reported the enormous success. Suddenly, the name Raphael Tuck was known worldwide. Christmas cards were in common use thereafter.

By 1881 Adolph was running Tuck's. In 1893, the company was awarded its first Royal Warrant by Queen Victoria, a measure of its sudden success in Britain. By the end of the 19th century Tuck's had become a major publisher of prints, Christmas and Valentines cards, scrapbook scraps, paper dolls, books, and calendars.

In November 1899 British Postal regulations were changed so that British publishers could, for the first time, publish picture postcards at the full Universal Postal Union agreed size of 5.5 by 3.5 inches. Adolph Tuck's company was the first to publish such cards with the immediate release of a set of 12 London View vignettes. Others sets swiftly followed and the postcard boom had begun.

Adolph was an astute businessman and clever marketeer. In 1900, to promote sales, his company announced a postcard collecting competition, offering a prize for the biggest collection of Tuck's postcards. This triggered a craze and several more competitions followed. Another effort to stimulate sales came in 1903 when Tuck followed the traditions of the art market and published limited edition proof sets targeted at the collector. All of this placed Tuck's firmly at the foundation of the postcard collecting boom with Adolph Tuck leading the way into the pre-WWI golden era of postcard collecting.

Adolph died in 1926 but the Tuck's business continued into the 1960's when it was sold. Unfortunately, early company records, archives of artwork, original photographs and designs were lost in that 1940 London air raid.

Much of this information came from a blog called About Postcards.

18 January, 1944

No letter today.    Just this:

* TIDBIT *

Wilma sent this comic to Greg from the Boston Traveler, dated 18 January, 1944. Her annotations are even better than the comic! Her additions include: an "A" over the garage, the car defined as a "convertible", a sun drawn in with the words "sun always shining for us", clouds scribbled out and labeled "no clouds", an arrow pointing to "our house", and the dog labeled "a scotty, perhaps?", Harvard Square pointing to the trousers. When she sent this, Wilma had not yet learned to drive, adding to the joke between them.

CLICK ON IMAGES TO ENLARGE

Nuts and Jolts, 18 January, 1944

Syndicated for three decades, Nuts and Jolts was a stand-alone panel cartoon featuring an ever-changing cast of everyday people doing silly things.

Bill Holman took over the panel in July of 1935 upon the death of Gaar Williams, originally using a number of different titles. The gag panel began to be called Nuts And Jolts in July of 1939 and was syndicated by the Chicago Tribune - New York News Syndicate until 1970.

Bill Holman was perhaps best known for his fun-filled strip Smokey Stover, featuring the wacky adventures of a fireman. Holman loved word play, and all of his features were flush with puns. The panels of Smokey Stover regularly included sight gags, humorous mishaps, absurd vehicles and bizarre household items—including oddly-shaped furniture, clocks, vases, and personal items. Crazy framed pictures which change completely from panel to panel, with subjects literally jumping out of the frames — added to the overall lively foolishness that pervaded the strip.

His most frequent nonsense word by far was "foo". Holman peppered his work with "foo" labels and puns. Smokey often called himself a "foo fighter" rather than a "firefighter." Holman also used the word "foo" on signs, lists, license plates, and the character remarks randomly yet frequently. The phrase "foo fighter," also taken from Holman’s strip, was used by Allied aircraft pilots in World War II to describe various UFOs or mysterious aerial phenomena seen in the skies over both the European and Pacific Theaters of Operations. Today, “Foo” is used as a ubiquitous sample in all forms of writing software, including for use as class names, variable assignment, database username/password combinations, temporary filenames, and the like.

Back of Comic advertising a Woman's Suit for $24.50

17 January, 1944

438^th AAA AW BN

APO 527 % Postmaster, N.Y.

England

Monday, January 17, 1944 1530

My darling –

What shall I do – I miss you so? I try to act gay, tell jokes, play bridge, read, and countless other things, but sweetheart – I end up missing you more and more. This morning when I arrived at the hospital, my men wanted to know why I looked so blue, so again I told them I was in love with a “lovely girl whom I couldn’t see, couldn’t kiss, couldn’t make love to – until the war ended”. You know what they said, sweetheart? One of them said, “Boy, she must be some girl to make you look and feel like that!” another one added that he had been with me for eighteen months and I’ve never acted the way I have since I met you. He said he’d been watching me and he knew the symptoms from sometime this summer. So in defense, dear, I said “Oh – it’s not that bad!”; to which, in unison, they all joined with an “Oh! Yeah!” Now, as we used to say when we were children, how do you like that for apples?

Anyway, darling, it should be very apparent to you how much I miss you and love you. No doubt men have written often before the way I have. If they were all as sincere as I am, sweetheart, they must have really been in love.

Today has been dull and foggy and I can’t say the surroundings made me feel any better. I stayed at the hospital for about an hour this morning, and then I decided to make a trip around to the various gun sections of one of the batteries. I did that, and it helped pass the time away pretty well. I don’t see all of the men as much as I used to, and wherever I went there were lots of questions concerning their health, families, babies, etc. It was truly like old times.

At noon – nothing particular happened and I came right back here to the hospital. I have to prepare an S.O.P. (standard operating procedure) for the running of the medical detachment, care of casualties etc. This makes about the 4th one I’ve made, but the situations change, depending on the assignment of the battalion – so the S.O.P. changes, too. When I say 4th, I don’t mean since arriving in England, I mean since being with this outfit.

I spent most of the afternoon planning it, then I dictated it to my staff sergeant and he is now typing it. With it I had to draw a rough map to show various routes etc. I swear – Charlie has a better job than I have. He carries the same rating and salary but doesn’t have to bother about reports and a lot of other junk that I’m responsible for. Some day I think I’ll talk the Colonel into swapping our jobs around.

Speaking of jobs, darling, how are you doing? I suppose in some of the letters I should be receiving any one of these days – you’ll probably mention the subject. I wish you luck anyway.

As I wrote you yesterday, I’m planning to have 48 hours off and will probably go to London again. It’s very likely I’ll go tomorrow morning, darling – and how I wish I had a 48 hr pass to see you – or did I mention that once before?

It won’t help me miss you less, darling, and I don’t want it to. I once wrote you – that the longing and the missing – though torturing in a way, nevertheless are enriching. All of it adds up to life and the living of it, and anyone who hasn’t missed someone or longed for someone is lacking in the full appreciation of that someone. If that is so, sweetheart, I appreciate and value you – like you have no idea at all! I hope I hear from you tonite, darling; it will help a great deal. Be well, take care of yourself for me, and always remember how much you mean to me.

All my love, sweetheart

Greg

Regards.

16 January, 1944

438^th AAA AW BN

APO 527 % Postmaster, N.Y.

England

January 16, 1944   2215

Dearest sweetheart –

Today, for a change, has been a very busy day – comparatively, that is – and as a result I’m writing you later than usual, dear. Last night, as I told you, I was O.D. at the hospital and it was comparatively quiet. Earlier in the evening I played bridge and ping-pong at our club. I lost in the first and won easily in the second. Can it be that the brawn in me is stronger than the mind? Don’t answer, darling!

This morning a few things arose which necessitated my going for a little ride. Some of our outfit is in another spot and Charlie Wright has been with them. It’s possible that in the next few days, I may go there, and he here. It has no significance, the APO is the same and the situation is identical with my present one. At any rate I went down to see him and talk things over. We had several things to take up. One was the subject of promotions. In a new table of organization just issued, there are several promotions open to our men, that is – the medical detachment men – and although I am the one who makes them, I like to get his opinion of how the men are doing etc.

I arrived there at about 1000 – the fog was terrific – and I stayed for dinner. Turkey, by the way, was the pièce de resistance, and it was good, dear. I returned here late p.m. and went immediately to the mail-clerk – but no luck. There’s only one consolation, darling, and that is that no one else has been getting mail this past week. Somehow that makes you feel that you aren’t being left out – but it’s a small satisfaction.

After supper – I had one of the communication men work on my radio. It plays well on electricity, but I’ve been wanting to get it hooked up for battery. None of the batteries are quite the right size in voltage for my set – and they’re building a new battery for me. But, damn it, dear – it won’t work – and up to a short while ago – the diagnosis still hadn’t been made. Boy – do I have worries!

So here I am – up to date with my activities, dear. My time is due for another 2 day pass – 2 weeks having elapsed. We were given 1 day off per week – or we can save it and get a two day pass every 2 weeks. The consensus of opinion is that you should take it – regardless of whether or not you have anything to do – or you’ll go stale. The stale part, I can believe, sweetheart. Anyway – probably Tuesday a.m. – I’ll go to London again – but I’m not sure. It’s just a question of getting away from Camp, having a few drinks, seeing some more sights and perhaps going to a show. I understand Lynn Fontanne and Alfred Lunt are in London. I’ll let you know more definitely tomorrow, dear.

Now – one other thing – darling, before saying good-night. I want your permission to use your name. It’s this way dear – we are authorized to have names, insignia etc. on our vehicles and the Medical Detachment has one vehicle. We have the stencil material already and WILMA is going on the front and sides of the car. Is that all right with you, sweetheart? It better be because I’m going to do it anyway, dear. I’ll let you know how it looks – then every morning as I get ready to go to the hospital – your name will greet me – besides being able to tell everyone who you are.

Darling, that’s all for now. I do hope your letters arrive soon. I last heard from you when you wrote on December 28th and that’s a long long time ago. I hope all is well with you, dear, and I do love you more each day, the more I think of it. The only limit in my thinking of you is when I’m asleep – and then I have my dreams – and in them I love you oh so much! So I love you. I love you. I love you – is that clear, dear?

All my love

Greg

* TIDBIT *

about Lynn Fontanne and Alfred Lunt in London

Greg mentioned perhaps seeing Fontanne and Lunt in London. Here is what he was likely to have seen:

CLICK ON IMAGE TO ENLARGE

Lynn Fontanne, Alfred Lunt and Brian Nissen, 01 January 1944
in a scene from Love in Idleness
Photo credit: New York Times Co./Getty Images

In the photo above, married stage actors Lynn Fontanne (1887-1983) and Alfred Lunt (1892-1977) (L) perform on stage with British actor Brian Nissen in a scene from Terence Rattigan's comedy, Love in Idleness, at the Lyric Theatre in London. Loosely based on the story of Hamlet, the plot looks at an idealistic, Labour-leaning eighteen year old boy who returns from evacuation to discover his mother is living with a reactionary Tory. Love in Idleness was at times performed amid falling bombs and teetering scenery, and in theaters so cold that Fontanne was said to have a lovely shade of light blue at the end of the first act.

English-born Lynn Lily Louise Fontanne and Wisconsin-born Alfred Lunt, having both trouped for years, met just before each started to get famous. The meeting consisted of Lunt's falling down some steps at rehearsal and sprawling at Fontanne's feet. By 1922, the year they were married, each had found singular acclaim. Two years later they began their great success as a team in The Guardsman. Except for individual work in 1928, the couple never again played apart, acting in everything from Dostoevsky to Noel Coward, from high drama to sheer drivel. They were the most famous stage couple in the world—and year in, year out, probably the best box office.

Lunt and Fontanne spent the war years performing in England. After World War II, they brought Love in Idleness to New York as O Mistress Mine. According to a review in Time from February 4th, 1946, O Mistress Mine had advance sales of $150,000 a week before it opened on Broadway, primarily because of the acting of Fontanne and Lunt. The article stated, "Beyond its adroitness, beyond its shimmer of personality, their acting had the tingle and fizz that made high fun of theatergoing." Theirs was a "lavender" marriage (that is, a marriage of a gay man and a lesbian designed to create and sustain the illusion of heterosexuality), and their presentation of themselves as the ideal American couple may have been their most skillful performance.