438th 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?
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
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:
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.
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
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.
No comments:
Post a Comment