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.

15 January, 1944

438^th AAA AW BN

APO 527 % Postmaster, N.Y.

England

January 15, 1944   1530

My dearest Wilma –

Saturday afternoon again and still not immune from the thought of the delight and joy I once derived when Saturday used to roll around. I’ve missed several of them now, but I’m not getting accustomed to it. The reverse is true, I fear. My longing for you seems to become more acute and keenly felt, darling, regardless of how time slips by and becomes the past. Despite the fact that one day is like another, I can’t seem to overlook the identity of Saturdays, Sundays or Holidays.

I wonder sometimes whether I was fully appreciative of the pleasures I enjoyed after meeting you, sweetheart. Each week-end was a full one and more so as I think of them now, because they stand the test of time and retrospection. And paradoxically enough, the more pleasant the retrospection, the more acute the remembrance – the worse is the longing, the missing, the wanting.

Dearest, I’ve never wanted anyone the way I want you. Distance is not the factor, because I wanted you when I was home. Perhaps distance gives one the chance to analyze things more clearly, subjectively. I think so, because although I believe I had things pretty well figured out before, they are now crystallized in my mind as undeniable facts. I suppose I tell you all this over and over again, dear, in my letters, but I’ve got to do it. Because I feel so much better when I write it as well as think it.

To say that you, darling, on the other side of the fulcrum from war, give me stability, is to put it mildly. The stagnancy, the inactivity, the lonesomeness here would just be intolerable if I didn’t have you and my thought for our future. Darling – you will just have to excuse me for always reminding you of this – won’t you dear?

These days are becoming very very boring and long and there’s just no two ways about it. Yesterday evening was long and quiet – the same old thing, dear, sitting around and letting the hours creep by until it was time to go to bed. I’m not due for O.D. at the hospital until sometime next week, but one of the doctors who is on tonight wanted to go out tonight so I offered to take his duty. Maybe I’ll get some work. It’s a Saturday night and there might be some fights. (I’m getting gruesome.)

I managed to get two letters last night – one from Stan written Dec. 24th and one from a Dr. G. from Salem – who is now a Commander in the Navy – on duty in the Pacific.

Stan’s letter told of his busy days before Christmas and of his plans for New Year’s Eve at Harvard, Mass. with the Fines and some other people. It sounded good but didn’t particularly help me feel more cheerful, I must admit. He did say, however, that the party would be more complete were I coming along, and that was a nice thought.

Stuart G. practices in Salem on Chestnut Street and is one of the swellest men practicing in town. I know you’ll think so when you meet him and his wife. They were both always friendly, very much so, to me – and I was invited to dinner at his house several times because they knew I was alone at mealtimes. If Stuart had an interesting medical case (he practiced internal medicine only) he would often call my office during office hours and say that he had an interesting heart or some such thing to listen to and that if I would drop down to his office after hours – he would hold the patient there. He referred a lot of work to me and all in all was a real friend. I know you’ll like him, darling – and of course – I know he’ll like you. I always felt that when I was married I would like to reciprocate the G.’s friendliness – and I’m sure you’ll want to also, dear.

Well – I better stop now, Sweetheart. Excuse the occasional ‘blue’ tone, will you dear? Honestly darling everything adds up to one important thing – that I love you very very much and can’t tell you often enough.

No letter for several days now, dear – but I’m waiting as patiently as I know how.

All my deepestlove

Greg

Regards to everyone

Love

G.

14 January, 1944

438^th AAA AW BN

APO 527 % Postmaster, N.Y.

England

January 14, 1944      1100

Dearest darling Wilma –

I’m enjoying a short pause in my morning’s activities and I thought I’d start a letter to you. You are so omnipresent in my mind, dear, that with the first free moment in a day – my first reaction is to write you.

If the lines are crooked, sweetheart, excuse it please. I’ve been writing so long on my fancy lined paper that I find myself concentrating on trying to write a straight line. This paper isn’t much better – but as a matter of fact, paper is quite a problem in England and stationery is just about unobtainable. So G-I paper comes in handy.

I really expected a letter or two from you last night, but none came. It was one of the fullest, longest evenings I’ve spent since we arrived here, darling. There was no movie on – and the only entertainment was a U.S.O. show which was visiting here. Somehow I didn’t feel like going to that. A few of the fellows did – and consequently there were only 3 of us around our recreation room most of the evening. I listened to the radio and sat in an easy chair, with my eyes shut – just thinking of you and home. Always, darling, I find myself noting the day, date and hour and imagining what we, you and I, would be doing if I were in the U.S. (Note: it always ends up satisfactorily!)

A month from now is Valentine’s Day and I’ve already hunted high and low for something as a remembrance – Sweetheart – England is cleaned out of everything. It’s amazing. I can’t even find a Dunhill pipe – which I wasn’t particularly interested in buying, but which I like to look at. Nevertheless I don’t give up too easily and as a substitute I’m having something made right here in camp – just as a little token, dear. Now there’s no sense in asking me what it is – because I’ll only tell you just as much as I want to. You’ll just have to wait, sweetheart. I suppose it isn’t fair to tease you over a little thing like this. One of my boys is making it and he got the idea (with my help, naturally) from some boys in the Air Corps. I will further enlighten you, darling, by telling you that it’s made out of glass – not ordinary glass – but plexi-glass, from the nose of a Flying Fortress. It’s really interesting to see what can be done with it – but that’s all, darling, no more will I say. After all – you went and guessed what I was giving you for your birthday – and trifling as it is – I’ll be darned if you can guess what this is. It ought to be ready soon – and I’ll send it our immediately. If it reaches you before February 14th – I know of course that you’ll wait until then, dear. (heh, heh)

There are other ways of being remembered on Valentine’s Day, darling, but being in England does not help one bit. However – but that’s all, definitely!

This afternoon I have nothing particularly to do, dear, except kill time – which is very difficult to do these days. Late afternoon I begin hounding the mail clerk –

1430

Darling, I was interrupted and then lunch hour was on hand. I’ve just finished a couple of details – and I’ll try to finish this, this time. You know, dear, there’s one subject I’ve been neglecting to remind you of – namely – that of kisses. I might pun and say that’s a ‘sore’ subject with me – but since you were never really affected, I’ll not mention it. However I figure that I owe you, you owe me – or anyway you want to put it – exactly 4006 kisses. Now you just can’t take a pencil and paper, put down 69 days since I last saw you, divide that into 4006 and get a daily average of 58.1 kisses. No dear, it’s not that simple – because several factors enter into it. For one thing, you don’t ration kisses in such a manner that you end up a day saying, “well 52 kisses, 6.1 more to go”. I think you’ll grant me that.

The subject actually brings into question – moods, situations, how much of a day I might have been near you etc. How I arrived at 4006 for a grand total to date, will have to remain my secret for the time being, sweetheart. Suffice it to say, I would settle for 3000 in cash kisses right now – but not less, mind you. And remember, darling, when I return – there will be the current kisses to take care of beside those in arrears. I thought it only fair to remind you.

Wouldn’t just one little kiss taste so wonderful, right now!! Ah well – I’m trying to mix the present with the future, and I guess that’s not the way the game is played. I’ll wait it out, darling, but you can’t blame a guy for thinking, can you? That’s all for now, my sweetheart and

All my love

Greg

Regards to all the family.

L.

G.

* TIDBIT *

about The B-17 Flying Fortress

Here is a 10 minute video about the Memphis Belle, a B-17 Flying Fortress made famous by the movie made about it. At several points there are good shots of the plexi-glass nose like the one from which Greg had a gift made for Wilma. As for the mission, pretty scary stuff.

13 January, 1944

[Note from FOURTHCHILD:
Apologies for the delay in this letter.
Internet connection problems on the thirteenth!]

438^th AAA AW BN

APO 527 % Postmaster, N.Y.

England

Thurs. January 13, 1944 1400

Dearest sweetheart –

Yesterday evening, just when I needed it most, I got a letter from you, a V-mail dated December 27. It was written late one evening when you had expected not to be able to write to me because of a busy day which you had coming up, but you did write the next day, too, darling, because I’ve already received that letter.

Bless your heart, dear, if you want a number, you can have one and if I thought it helped one bit, I’d write it all over the envelope. The mail is slow, dear, but even sporadically – it’s wonderful just getting a letter. There must be another bunch due because they’ve been very scattered this past week. I still haven’t received several from the second 10 days of December, and I’m still driving our mail clerk crazy each day asking him whether or not anything that might contain a swell picture has arrived for me. I drive him crazy, sweetheart, because I ask him twice a day, regularly, and of course he goes after the mail only once a day. But one of these days – it will come, and when it does, the whole outfit is very certain to hear about it.

What do you have in mind for a job, darling – I mean outside of being my wife, partner, secretary and constant companion and sweetheart? I do think it would help the time slip by better and swifter and get you out of the house. It’s a shame to hire your talents out to a stranger, though, when I could do with you so well right now. Whatever you do, darling, don’t promise anyone how long you’ll stay, because after all, I have some priority.

Last night I dreamed of you again, dear. I dream of you very often, now – and it’s so nice – as perhaps you know yourself. Most of the dreams are hazy and indistinguishable come morning, but I’m always aware of a pleasant undertone and that, of course, is a good sign. Always, in them, we are together (in every sense of the word) and we belong to each other – that fact is always established. So who am I to argue with my subconscious mind?

Last night I played bridge and my partner and I got taken – badly. It’s a good thing we don’t play for anything. Our opponents – by the way – made a Grand Slam, actually, dear, but unfortunately for them – they only bid 4 Spades. We just couldn’t get a decent bidding hand all night. The night before we saw the movie at the Officers’ Club – “No Time for Love” with Colbert and MacMurray. I hadn’t seen it – so I enjoyed it. It was a light comedy with nothing about war in it. Tonight I understand “This is the Army” is being shown – and if so, I’ll go see it with Pete. Incidentally I usually fail to tell you that I pass your regards on to Pete and Charlie. Actually – in our present set-up – neither is in the immediate vicinity of our headquarters – but Pete isn’t too far off – and I manage to see him rather frequently.

I haven’t heard from Stan since I mentioned it some time ago, but I imagine things are going along the same way. I expect to hear from Irv F. soon, because I wrote him some time ago. I have heard from a few people in Salem that I had written to and things are about the same there, it seems. Incidentally, the K.s still have open house Saturday nights – and our place is being kept open, as well as the one remaining bottle of Tequila which Ethel K. is saving.

Darling, I’ve got to run along now and take care of a couple of things. I had a busy night at the hospital – having to get out of bed 3 times – once to sew up a fellow who had been in a fight, once to take care of a fellow with a dislocated knee, and finally to admit a fellow with pleurisy. Total income for that – pre-war – would be worth about $13-15; total result last night – experience and lost sleep. But what the heck – I’ll make up for it. Darling, I know you’re lonesome – and so am I, for you – but it’s a pleasant lonesomeness and one which I know will culminate in long happiness for both of us. I know we will appreciate each other even more – for having been separated. So a stiff upper lip, sweetheart, and for now –

All my love – Greg

Regards to all

L

G.

12 January, 1944

438^th AAA AW BN

APO 527 % Postmaster, N.Y.

England

Wed. January 12, 1944 1400

Dearest and only sweetheart –

I’m at the hospital now – sitting in the O.D. room at a small desk. I’m facing the window and as I look out it’s gray and raw-looking, dear; but I’m looking westward and projecting myself all the way back to Boston and Newton. It’s just off there – in the horizon, between those two old fir trees. What a wonderful mechanism, darling, is the so-called mind’s eye! I can actually picture myself getting out of my car, clicking my heels up your cement walk, reaching for the bell, trying to hear the gong and then waiting those few impatient seconds until I caught sight of you; then a short kiss with a quick glance behind to see if the outside door were shut and the neighbors not peek-a-booing. I can see that, sweetheart, right out in front of me right now – and I even find myself wondering whether you’re wearing a sweater and skirt, a black dress – or perhaps the deep purple one with the long V neck. It rarely made any difference to me, darling, because you always looked lovely to me.

But what would I be doing over at your house on a Wednesday afternoon? Well – let’s suppose it was our house on a Wednesday afternoon; I would have by now finished my morning’s work and no office hours Wednesdays! But heck – it’s cold and certainly no day for golf. Well – I don’t mind, dear. Oh – so you’re glad, are you? Really. I am too. It’s a swell day to spend together; where will we go? You know, dearest – that will probably go on from 1400-1630 and we won’t even leave the house. What will we be doing? I’m going to let you do a little supposing, too, darling. Anyway – it’s about time to dress – I mean for going out in the evening, of course – so we do and go out to have a few cocktails, dinner, theater, bridge – or anything else that might have been arranged. Gosh, dear, it’s getting late, what do you say we head for home? No argument?

Sweetheart – the rest of today here in England will be pleasant for me because I’m going to allow myself to stay in this mood – if you don’t mind. Do you think I’m entirely too imaginative, dear? Maybe I am, but it helps smooth over the mental rough spots manifested by lonesomeness and longing –

A night doesn’t go by, darling, but what I fall asleep with thoughts of you and me together. I swear, living with you when we’re married is going to be the most natural and normal thing in the world because in my imagination I have covered every conceivable situation and from every angle, and if anything was ever better set-up for two people, I’d like to hear about it. I’ve had you go so many places with me, do so many things with me, meet so many people – that it’s going to seem strange to me, I think, to have to re-introduce you to some of them. And what a thrill I’m going to get when I an actually introduce you as my wife!

‘My wife’ – something I’ve wanted to be able to say for a long time; And how happy I am that you are the one I’m going to be able to call that! Do you remember, dear, the first time we went to Salem? Well – it was on the way back, coming through the tunnel that I first felt something peculiar. I know I hardly knew you and all that, but running through my mind at that moment, fleetingly to be true, was the thought that you were the type of girl I’d like to marry. I will not say I loved you, then, because I still insist you just don’t ‘fall in love’ with someone on such short notice. But even at that time, darling, I was aware of your fine qualities. I liked the freedom of your visit, your ease and good nature. All these things impressed me quickly and darling it was so easy to fall in love with you! And staying in love with you is so wonderful that I often wonder if I’m worth the happiness. Sweetheart – if I could write the things I think while I’m away, you’d be amazed at the span of my emotion. If you’ll save some of my letters, we’ll pull them out a few at a time some cold night when we’re sitting around – and I’ll think back to each and tell you in person what I tried to convey at times in my letters –

Darling – I guess I didn’t write much about the news; there isn’t any and anyway I just felt like writing about you and me. I’ll write again, Sweetheart, and I truly hope you realize how much I love you and miss you and want you. For now, dear

All my love

Greg.

11 January, 1944

438^th AAA AW BN

APO 527 % Postmaster, N.Y.

England

January 11, 1944    1245

Dearest sweetheart –

I have just finished my lunch and am resting comfortably in a large soft chair. I was just about to read the daily Stars and Stripes, but I felt like writing to you first, dear. The Stars and Stripes is just for soldiers and costs us about a cent and a half a day. It has 4 to 6 pages and contains the latest news of the world, plus news of interest to soldiers in the European Theater of Operations, plus Li’l Abner and Terry and the Pirates – and that’s something darling, after reading the cartoon-less English dailies. We also have the “Yank” – British Edition, which comes out once a week and cost threepence or a nickel. I’ve tried sending you the “Yank” – but I don’t know yet whether it will get to you, dear.

Yesterday, again, was a long slow day. When I got through writing you – and my folks, I wrote Grandma B. a short note; then I wrote Col. P. a rather long letter. I had heard from him the day before from Fort Bliss. He’s rather discouraged about not getting anywhere. He’s so disappointed at still being in the U.S. – and yet having been a soldier in both wars. I envy him, though, in a way. He mentioned, for example, that he had called his wife, Anne, a few days before. Next to seeing you, Sweetheart, that’s the one thing I would like to do most. Yesterday I heard a rumor that it was possible to call – but I’m having it investigated today by our Special Service Officer.

I wrote your mother – the other day, having received a very nice V-mail from her. I think it is swell of her to write me, and I told her so.

In the evening – it was the same routine, i.e. – ping-pong, darts and bridge. We’ve been playing a little bridge every other night or so – and I guess that’s the only way to really learn the game. I think I’m getting to know it better, but I still have a long way to go before I become a good player.

I got to bed at about 2245 and Bruce and I (he’s Battery Commander – Headquarters Battery) got to talking about home. He had had a girl friend and they were pretty intimate. One day while we were still at Edwards – he received a note that she was a member of the Waves – just like that. When he tried to contact her, she made no attempt to meet him half way. It was a pretty rotten trick, and to this day he doesn’t know what really happened.

Then I got to talking about you, Sweetheart; what you looked like, how you talked and laugh, the good companion you are, the things we planned to do after the war, and so on. Bruce said “You really love her, don’t you?”; and I said “Hell, man, you don’t think I’d marry a girl I didn’t love, do you?” Well, he opined that I wouldn’t, and I went on from there, outlining our life in Salem and the things we could look forward to. I honestly think I made the poor fellow envious, or at least sad. I hadn’t intended to do either. Anyway I can assure you darling that it’s wonderful to realize that you do have someone so dear to you at home who feels the same way about you as you do of her. I’ve said that over and over again, darling, but I still can’t impress you with the mental satisfaction and pleasure derived from that thought. Why I was lucky enough to meet you, darling, I don’t know, but I am certain I’ll do everything I can to appreciate the good fortune. You are becoming so much a part of me as each day goes by, that I find it almost unbelievable that I was really alone so long dear. I’ve never really experienced the sense of togetherness that I am now – and it’s wonderful!

Well – I have to run along now dear. I’m going up to the Station hospital and see some of our boys who have been sick. Hope I hear from you this evening. Meanwhile, darling, my sincerest love is yours –

Greg

Regards to the family and Mary

Love

G.

* TIDBIT *

about The Stars and Stripes

The following article was copied directly from a former web site, with credit to the author:

The Stars and Stripes
Written by Dante Murphy

Popular with the troops and seasoned with experienced journalists and authors, the Stars and Stripes was the officially-approved newspaper of the American armed services during World War II. Published simultaneously in England, Europe, and finally the Pacific in the latter part of 1945, the newspaper stands out for having accomplished two vital missions. It was "for the soldiers", and also became a "...symbol of the things we are fighting to preserve and spread in this threatened world." The name on the masthead was not new, being used various times and on different papers from the American Civil War up through World War I. This particular edition started out in London with less than ten men, growing to hundreds on staff by the end of the war. Initially published just for the American troops stationed in Ireland in 1942, its appeal soon grew enough to become a daily 8-page paper aimed at all the American forces in the European and Italian theater of operations. This popularity did not go unnoticed by those in command—General Eisenhower himself had "...considered it the greatest influencing factor for the soldier in the Army...."

Correspondent Ernie Pyle

A newspaper is only as good as its staff, and the Stars and Stripes soon found journalistic talent of all types applying to work in any capacity possible. In many cases, new staffers had been doing similar jobs in their old outfits, such as editing the camp newspaper or the division newsletter. Upon hearing of the Stars and Stripes, they reached for the opportunity to work at a real newspaper for the first time — or, in some cases, to do what they had done while civilians. In fact, the staff — and the papers that some of them had already worked at—represented a veritable Who's Who of the journalistic world at that time. Bob Moora hailed from the New York Herald Tribune. Ben Price, one of the founding group, hailed from the Des Moines Register. Other newspapers represented included the Detroit Free Press, New York Daily News, New York World Telegram, New York Times, and others. In addition to regular staff, many others contributed to the paper as well, be it through a regular column or special "news" events. Some of these famous contributors included the columnist Ernie Pyle, author Ernest Hemingway, cartoonist Bill Maudlin, and correspondent Andy Rooney.

A Young Andy Rooney

Andy Rooney was perhaps best known for his years on the 60 Minutes television show, but are not aware that he served in World War II and was on the staff of the Stars and Stripes. One of his most famous series of articles came about when he was on assignment with the 8th Air Force. Said Rooney, "Each story I wrote about heroism, mess sergeants, mascot dogs, or death in the air represented a hundred stories just like those at another base." He went on to write many other articles for the Stars and Stripes, including several memorable ones covering the D-Day landing. Rooney, Maudlin, Pyle and Hemingway offered a balance to the typical "hard news" that usually ran in the paper, and their ideas and topics were sprinkled throughout in columns and/or special inserts. Typical of these special sections was the insert War Week. Topics ranged from lessons on how to fight in winter weather and the cold to coverage of those flying in the Army Air Corps.

 

Willie and Joe

The December 9, 1944 War Week focused on one thing—mud! Pulitzer Prize winning cartoonist Bill Maudlin was also a regular feature in the Stars and Stripes, with his cartoons appearing several times a week. His Willie and Joe characters came to symbolize the ordinary infantry soldier's lot during the war, poking fun at the leadership and expressing the frustration of every private on the ground. His efforts were not without controversy at times—one cartoon precipitated a meeting with General Patton, who thought what Maudlin had drawn was disrespectful! Just beyond reach of the limelight were dozens of correspondents and reporters who, while not as famous, provided stories of courage and bravery and despair for the newspaper. Ernie Leiser's description of the devastated city of Berlin made front page headlines at the end of the war. Another reporter, Thomas Hoge, was actually taken prisoner by the Germans, spending time in captivity. He made his way to freedom, and his experiences resulted in articles describing life behind the wire as a prisoner. Other stories detailed accounts ranging from notable battles to interviews with visiting Hollywood actors.

Besides the news, weekly columns and special inserts, other sections of the paper included sports—one of the more popular sections for the troops—wire service news, and the ever-popular comics, with well-known strips such as Li'l Abner, Terry and the Pirates, Dick Tracy and others. Rounding out the paper were the B-Bag — soldier's letters to the paper/editors — and Hashmarks, a regularly appearing humor column.

Publishing any paper can be a harrowing experience. Publishing a daily newspaper in multiple combat zones can be dangerous to one's sanity. Unlike a local paper stateside, the Stars and Stripes was published at more than one place, with more than one edition. After starting out in London, other editions were printed as the war progressed, including the Saint-Mere Eglise edition (from Paris) and, eventually, the German editions. Each had its own headlines, staff and unique take on the war. One of the biggest challenges was the actual production of the paper. Paper, ink and presses were needed to put out the physical product. While in friendly territory, such as London, this was a manageable task. However, for the European based editions, especially those still near the combat zone, this was a dicey proposition at best. Historian Ken Zumwalt, in his book, The Stars And Stripes, mentions this example: "As they entered Liege, they found the railroad yards smoking from buzz-bomb hits....Bombers of the Luftwaffe streaked across the sky....For nine days the eight men scoured the burned city for printing facilities...."

All the toil and danger was worth it. The Stars and Stripes was a touch of stateside civility in a soldier's vernacular, both familiar and evocative. The men came to rely upon the paper as much more than a source of headlines and box scores; it was a trusted compatriot that would be with you to the end. It's kept that promise, and is still going strong today, publishing daily in areas all across the globe.