14 September, 1943

438^th AAA AW BN

Camp Edwards, Mass

Sept 14, 1943    0905

Wilma dear –

I’m sitting around the tent stove this morning, smoking and relaxing – today being a much more restful day than yesterday. I didn’t hear from you yesterday, dear, but no doubt I will today. (Here comes my coke and Herald.) That’s routine by the way when the ambulance returns from the hospital each morning.

Last evening, after officers’ school – a couple of us went to a GI movie on the post and saw ‘My Kingdom for a Cook’, with Charles Coburn and a couple of others. It was a fair comedy, nothing more. We got out at 2200 and I went to bed shortly afterward.

This morning I’ve got a few administrative things to take care of and in the p.m. we’re going to do some final physicals. News came in that our machine gunners had another allotment of ammunition (60,000 rounds) and that we would have to go to Wellfleet again – Wednesday. I was quite disconcerted at this but on further investigation (I sometimes do S₂ work) I find that 1) only part of the battalion will go 2) there probably will be another battalion out there with its M.D. who will cover us – and 3) even if that is not so, we would only be gone for 2 days. Well naturally, dear – I felt better. Now all I have to do is get someone to cover me for the week-end and I’ll be all set.

On sick-call today I questioned a couple of boys who came from Springfield & who drive home occasionally. I figured they knew as short a way as any. Well I only held the line up for 15-20 minutes but I managed to learn that the best way to go from here is thru Providence, thence to Putnam, Conn. --> Sturbridge etc.  According to one of the boys it’s only about 125 miles that way. By Boston – it would be nearer 150 –

By now dear you must be having regular classes, with 10 minute breaks, a quick smoke, books under your arms, sweater & skirt and everything that goes to make college life what it is. Boy how I envy you! Enjoy a little of it for me, will you dear?

I still plan to call you 7:30 p.m. Thursday. If there’s a delay it will be due to congested lines. I’ll start about 7:20. Right now, dear, I have to go inspect kitchens and make a few other attempts at earning my pay. So until later on dear – I’ll say solong for now. I’ll be seeing you soon I hope.

My love

Greg

13 September, 1943

This post card was written early in the morning, followed by a letter later in the morning. The front of the postcard was edited to remove last names...

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438^th AAA AW BN

Camp Edwards, Mass

Sept 13, 1943      1045

Dearest Wilma -

With some more skin off both knees and elbows I’m finally back and clean enough to write you. This was a different infiltration course, supposedly more difficult – so I tried it. It wasn’t bad except for the dynamite charges. One went off right next to my right ear. It shook my helmet, head and body but didn’t do any more. We all had headaches when we got thru.

We then had a competitive road test and physical endurance problem – and I’m through with that. I’m afraid dear my physical status is being developed more than my mental. Anyway, I’m too late for the dentist today & will go tomorrow.

In the way of medical work for the next several days is the question of examining every man in the battalion for question of overseas duty. The P.O.E. surgeon does not examine men now. It’s all left up to us. Aside from all that, I’m left with my thoughts too, dear.

Well, to go back over the week-end, Pete and I spent Saturday nite together in a syncopated movement i.e. from bar to bar. But I got home about 12:45 a.m. or should I write 0045.

Sunday a.m. I lolled around, dug out my clarinet & managed to squeak out “People Will Say etc”; also “You’ll Never Know etc.” About 4 p.m. I met Pete at the Copley, had a quick martini (very dry – & I had to ask for an olive!) and headed for, guess where – yes – Salem. I had heard that Dr. Finnegan was ill & I wanted to see him. He was about to be discharged from the hospital the next day, having had a bout of infectious jaundice.

Mrs. Tucker’s was the next stop & she was in, as was Barbara too. The next thing after saying ‘hello’ – was to inquire as to who you were, etc. Maude had mentioned you – No, dear, I didn’t say you were my cousin – Oh – and Mrs. Tucker gave me $17 (seventeen) dollars in cash some patient brought in – apparently a balance from a tonsillectomy I had done on a kiddo.

After that I saw the Kerrs, elder & younger. The younger, Ethel, also wanted to know more about you, thought you were very sweet, regular, and wanted you to come down again. The child’s operation is so far successful, by the way.

We then headed for Boston & Edwards & got in at 11:30.

Calling you Saturday, dear, was indeed a pleasure. I didn’t know whether I should or not, but I’m glad I did. Barring any unforeseen at this moment complications – I’m looking forward to driving up this week-end. Peterson is a swell guy and you’ll like him. He’s Catholic, although I don’t think it matters particularly whom you get for him as long as she’s nice. If we go – we’ll leave at noon and I suppose it will take all of 5 hours to get there. If there’s a decent hotel around, get us a room with twin beds, unless it is customary to stay some other place.

Your letters, dear, have been very sweet and very welcome. I certainly enjoy hearing from you and believe me, dear, I appreciate and look forward to every one of your letters. The Germans had a way of expressing that feeling in the phrase “Ich ache mit Freude an” – Concerning my letters to you dear, I want you to know that I certainly enjoy writing to you and shall continue to do so as frequently as I can as long as you want me to. Remember always that if there’s ever a lapse it will be due to circumstances beyond my control. Right now there shouldn’t be many lapses, but unfortunately I understand that often from overseas – letters come in bunches rather than spaced. I guess I’ll have to use a number system on the outside of the envelope so you’ll know the correct order. We’ll see

I’m glad, dear, the girls like the bars and I’m proud that you’re wearing them. As for the girls calling you ‘Greg’ – that’s something else again. Anyway it makes me feel very well.

S o here I am near the end of the letter and I haven’t told you how much I’ve missed you in the short time that you’ve been gone. Since I’ve met you, dear – this is actually the longest time between seeing you. But you must know that I miss you, you must gather it in everything I say and write. If you do – there must exist a bond between us and if that is so – why – I’m happy. Solong for now, dear – I’ll write soon and really, you have my

Love

Greg

11 September, 1943

438^th AAA AW BN

Camp Edwards, Mass

Sept 11, 1943    1010

Wilma dear -

Last nite I was very very blue. I’d have given a lot to see you or even talk with you. I was half tempted to call you about 8 o’clock or so but I wasn’t sure whether you’d be in or not. We got in from Wellfleet about 2300 Thursday nite and starting with Friday a.m. – it’s been a three ring circus here. I guess we’re pretty hot as they say in the army, and there’s a lot of things to get done before we move out of here. I’ve got a fair idea of where we’re going – but I can’t write about it. I’ll tell you when I see you next, dear.

Here it is Saturday a.m. and I don’t care whether I go off this noon or not. I got a card from Stan stating he has a date with Shirley after work tonite & that they’d be glad to have me join them. Some how I don’t feel like doing that. Your absence would be all the more apparent to me. I guess I’ll just hang around. One of the boys is coming in to Boston and I may stag it around with him. He’s from Omaha & has never been to Boston. No, he’s not Jewish, dear.

The last letter I received from you stated you wouldn’t be home until the 25^th. I hope you change your mind.

I certainly will call your folks when I get in. I’ll tell you a secret, – I had half a mind to do so anyway. All traces of my cold are gone now, dear and it’s a shame I can’t do anything about it this week-end – if you know what I mean – If we can ever get this war over with in due time, I’ll have a lot of catching up to do.

I’m glad about Sinatra, dear, really I am. He’s tough competition and I sometimes become afraid. Your reassurance makes me feel like singing right now, but there’s no one to sing to. I’ll just practice anyway.

By now you must be all matriculated, or some such thing. I wish I could be up there with you. Maybe I’ll get a chance to visit.

Well – I’ve got to go back camp; give a few more inoculations. I’m in the cab of a 2½ ton truck right now. (I always like to get some Romantic spot when I write you, dear.) Hope to hear from you later this morning and I plan to mail this soon so that forsooth this may reach you Monday a.m. Until I write again, so long, dear, and remember – I’m thinking of you.

Love

Greg

08 September, 1943

438^th AAA AW BN

Wellfleet, Mass

Sept 8, 1943      8:15 pm

Wilma dear,

It was swell talking with you a while ago. I knew of course Monday that I would call you Wednesday evening but I never like to say I’ll do something only to find myself unable to do it. I’m never sure when I can break away and get to a phone.

I got your letter about 6 p.m. and it helped cheer me up. As I told you on the phone, I was sort of gloomy most of the day although I had received two letters earlier. One was from Col. Pereira in El Paso, the other from a Capt. Johnson, now at a Camp in California, formerly adjutant of our outfit, and a swell guy. Incidentally, Col. Pereira has already been to Juarez and says that nice thick steaks sell for one dollar. Boy! That’s were we should go Saturday nights. Also, – tequila flows like water.

I’m sorry I sounded so final in my first letter this week, dear. As you now know, that was the farthest thing from my mind. I like the way you have the weeks figured out. In my own mind I did the same, but of course I didn’t know your plans. As for coming up to Holyoke, I’d love it but I’ll have to talk it over with you in more detail when I see you, dear. Certain it is that I want to see you as much as I can before I leave. Dammit I was anxious to go over a short while ago and now I feel differently. What will the distance do to us I wonder? I’m a little bit afraid, dear. I just hope it won’t be too long.

As for your being mushy – no. I’m glad you’re pleased at the thought that I think of you often. Lord knows I do; and it was a nice thing to say – that you are tempted to write more often. Your address, dear, I know, and I guess you’ll find I’ll write you at the slightest provocation, if you’ll excuse the word. There’ll be a pause, no doubt, between my leaving the Point of Embarkation and arrival at our destination, but I’ll make up for it. When we get to a P.O.E. we are allowed to write, but no letter goes out until it is certain that the convoy has arrived. That will be the time dear when you’ll have to be patient. What a Hell of a thing a war is and why should we have to live thru one? Maybe our lives will be all the richer for it, who knows?

The light is getting my eyes again, dear, so I’ll stop soon. I won’t seal this though because I may have a chance to write a few lines in the a.m. There’s no chance, of course, of this going out tonite. By the way, if my letters sometimes get to you with smooches – you’ll understand won’t you dear? Conditions aren’t the best for neat writing. Goodnight for now, dear

Thursday a.m.     6:30

Good morning dear –

The fog is clearing fast and I believe we’ll be able to fire. I think I told you that we had to go in Wed. night regardless. Well as usual there was a change – and we ought to be going back Friday.

I got into bed right after finishing writing you and it was pleasant falling asleep with my thoughts on the same subject, so to speak.

Sick call has started already and the usual number is here. I thought I’d finish this up now and run it down with the ambulance to So. Wellfleet. Mail leaves there at 7:30 a.m.

So I’ll stop now, dear – hoping to hear from you today and if not – hoping you’re thinking of me anyway. So long dear and

Love

Greg

07 September, 1943

438^th AAA AW BN

Wellfleet, Mass

Sept 7, 1943    1915

Dear Girl -

I got your very sweet letter this p.m. and enjoyed it very much. It was considerate and thoughtful, and I like that.

It’s a little after 7 in the evening and darkness is settling fast down here on the beach. I’m in the Medical tent, one of the boys has just lighted the lamp, our banjoist is strumming hill-billy songs – and all in all I’m in a rather sentimental mood myself. I’ve been thinking all day about the past two months and how a seemingly gloomy summer turned out to be a very enjoyable one for me; I’ve been thinking how each week I’ve looked forward to the coming week-end with great zest and expectation; and today I couldn’t help but feel that the coming week-end would be a rather empty one with you not in Boston. But your leaving town doesn’t mean my losing contact with you, dear, and that’s a consolation.

Your concern about my health is very sweet. I guess a fellow likes nothing better than to know someone cares how he is – particularly if that someone is the right kind of girl. I really am cured of illness sans any particular treatment except rest and sleep. I got to my tent about 9:30 p.m. and a short time later I was fast asleep. Tonight I’ll go to sleep equally early and I’ll be a rip snortin’ soldier by morning.

Due to some general inspection of equipment by an Inspector General on Thursday morning, it seems that whether we’re thru firing or not, we will move back late Wednesday night. This should be our last trip out to this place and I won’t be particularly sorry.

I almost forgot to mention the subject of socks, darn it. What made you think about that, dear? Of course you know I’d wear them, regulation or not. Your “drawing” was intriguing. It so happens I know what cable means, otherwise I’m sure your sketch would have suggested a sock with a run in it. Really, though, are you sure it won’t be too much trouble? If not, I’d love to have them – size 11 and thanks!

Your mention of lack of interest in a certain date, left me with considerable food for thought, dear – and the thought, whatever your reasons, was pleasant. I wish I were out of the Army so that I could see you so many nights in a week you wouldn’t have time to go out with anyone else, dear – but that’s another thing that will have to wait – I mean, of course, my attempt at it.

This place is starting to fill up and it’s getting more and more difficult to concentrate. By writing this tonite I’ll be able to get this off in the a.m. but I’ll mail it to school anyway, I guess.

By the way – Charlie sends his regards and thanks you for yours. This will be all for tonight, dear. I’ll write again soon and again – good luck in your coming school year. Solong, dear.

Love

Greg

Note from FOURTH CHILD: Unless noted, letters now sent to: Wilder Hall, Mount Holyoke College, So. Hadley, MA

06 September, 1943

438^th AAA AW BN

Camp Edwards, Mass

Wed. Sept 6, 1943    0720

Wilma dear -

It seems as if I can always manage to jot down a few words Monday mornings. This a.m. we’ve been delayed because of another convoy which started out ahead of us. So again I’ll attempt to write as much as I can before we pull out.

To say that I feel fine, dear, would be to handle the truth carelessly; however I think before this day is over I’ll feel much better – because this is the 3^rd day of my so-called illness and that ought to spell ‘finish’.

I got back to camp uneventfully, albeit very tired. I’m afraid I acted that way most of the week-end dear. It’s really unusual for me to feel that way and I’m sure you won’t see me like that again for at least 2-3 years. By the way – the apples & the pear helped considerably in sustaining my energy. I didn’t finish the last of it until I was near Stoughton. My plan at first was to eat the two apples and then the pear. Then I was going to eat the pear first, followed by the 2 apples. (All this deliberation used up 4 miles.) Finally the only logical and sensible solution became obvious, i.e. an apple, a pear and an apple. What would you have done?

Charlie and wife got back to the Cape via (pronounced vee-a) Route 28. He wandered about most of the day, and in the late p.m. they took a buggy ride around town and found it enjoyable.

Dear, they’re about to start out immediately – I won’t even have a chance to mail this from here. Will write later in the day. Will you wait?

Later in the day, but

not much       0815

Hello again –

This convoy has proceeded about the distance from your garage to Mandalay Road. Every soldier and his buddy who can drive a truck – seems to be out driving today. No wonder there’s no gas. Every road from Camp is blocked – so we’re just sitting – or setting as New Englanders are wont to say – and waiting.

I should be in a bad mood this morning. For 14 months my detachment hasn’t had one AWOL – but I have one now. One of my twins goofed off to Patterson, N.J. and hasn’t been seen since Saturday p.m. It spoils our good record, and since he’s a fellow who has acted up from time to time – I’m going to have him court-martialed. I’m usually not very vindictive, but if he isn’t punished – someone else will take off.

But I’m not in a bad mood despite the above – and it must be because I’m writing to you (Mushy). Of course all my boys suspect whom I’m writing early these mornings, just as they know who writes me – because when my mail is delivered to me, I’m told before-hand where the letter is from, the handwriting, address etc. Here we go again – write later –

1450

Wellfleet

Well, dear – that was a long pause and we had a little excitement since I wrote you earlier. A civilian car struck one of our trucks at Yarmouthport. A sailor and his girl were badly ‘banged’ up. After administering some first aid at the roadside – we drove them by ambulance to the Cape Cod Hosp. at Hyannis. It was all I could do to keep from doing a little of the sewing up – but of course a civilian M.D. had to do it – a Dr. Vail who knows W.G. Phippen quite well. We had a nice chat, anyway. It was noon when I left the hospital – so I took my driver and 2 aid men downtown and we are – killing another 45 minutes.

Out here it’s foggy and windy – but I believe we’ll do night flying anyway.

This certainly must rate as a disconnected letter, dear – but – you understand. It should convey to you, though, how many different times of the day I think of you. By the way, you haven’t developed a cold, have you? I trust not. After all, I wouldn’t want you to upset my theory.

I’m sending 3 sick boys into camp right now & the letter with them – so this should go out this evening or early in the a.m. If you do get this in time – take with it my best and sincerest wishes for a very pleasant semester at school. That’s all for now, solong, and

Love

Greg

01 September, 1943

438^th AAA AW BN

Near the Hyannis Airport

Wed. Sept 1, 1943 6:05pm

Great Balls of Fire, Wilma!

I don’t know what I can write that will be coherent, dear – but I’ll try. What a past 2 days! I honestly didn’t think I would write tonite, but I was so pleasantly surprised by your thoughtful letter, I had to make an attempt. If I can make myself stable for a minute dear, I really do appreciate your writing me as often as you do. Perhaps I should tell you more directly, but I think you must gather that I do like to hear from you and the oftener the better.

Now all seriousness aside, my one, I wish you were here tonite. (I better direct this along another line.) All right, a fresh start: I’ll explain myself. You remember I wrote you about an experiment we were going to do; well – I did it. From Monday morning on we (the men and I) have been marching, digging and getting fatigued. We moved out of our area at 2300 (11pm) Tues. nite & proceeded here. We then dug in our medical tent and got thru at 3 a.m. We then took 10 mgs of Benzedrine and then I went to visit some of the batteries in the field (a battery is like a company of men) to see the reactions of some of the men who took the same dose. At 6:30 a.m. I returned to the C.P. (Command Post) and felt fine. At 9 a.m. we took another dose, made further visits for reactions. The interesting thing was that I was reacting too. A third – and final dose was taken at 3 p.m. Well, to put it mildly, I began to feel higher than a kite in the Alps. The lack of sleep didn’t bother me at all and right now I’m as sassy as a wood-chuck.

I’ll have to read the above over to see if it’s at all chronological. It’s an effort to concentrate and yet amazing how alert I feel despite physical labor & no sleep. I’m not even yawning. (Remember?) The sensation is best described as “swimming” and has nothing at all to do with water. “Swimming” – as when a fellow falls for a girl, for example; “swimming” – as in giddy, “swimming” – any old way, but always “swimming”.

Talk about rambling, – dear your letters are all fresh and spontaneous to me and I like them that way – probably because that’s the style I unconsciously use.

To prove my point, I’ll jump to another subject. I was sorry to hear about Stan and I hope you found him better when you called. He must be ‘run down’ – to use the vernacular; he’s been staying out late nights, and I guess he should rest more. I’ll have to give him a little professional advice.

Yes I did see “Night Must Fall” – a couple of years ago. It was a very well done picture as I recall it, and Bea with the two “G’s” must have talent to play the part she did. Send her my best wishes, by the way.

Tomorrow a couple of generals will visit us, and Friday, too. We move back Friday and Saturday, God-willing, I’ll head for Boston and –

Dammit (that’s legal) – I’m sobering up dear. I started out to write an entirely congruous letter, and I’ll bet it’s only incongruous. By the way – if you want to use meagre – well use it, see? Never mind Webster. Coin your own words, for that matter. That’s good fun. I often do it, and it’s nice and confusing.

You made no mention of hearing from me, dear – and I assume that’s because you weren’t home very much. I find myself, too, writing rather often, but unlike you – I like to write – to certain people. Steady now, boy! Steady now!

The thought of your leaving Boston, Wilma – is unpleasant. I’ve gotten to know you and like you a great deal, dear – these past weeks. Sic transit gloria mundi – what a pundit I am – or do I know what I’m saying? Truth of the matter is that I’ll miss you and will certainly look forward to seeing you as often as I can while I’m still around. And did I answer you the other nite when you asked whether going away meant getting out of touch? I hope not, and with the slightest encouragement (more – will be welcome) I shall certainly try to let you know where I go and what I think.

And so saying, the cow fell in the bucket, beside his chieftain lying. Kiss my blues away, if it wouldn’t be nice having you near me tonite! Seems like I ended in the same vein as when I started – which just goes to show that if you buy from the maker, you save the middle-man’s profit.

Bear with me, dear – part of it is due to the Benzedrine – but I feel the same way about things without it, I guess.

I hope you have a pleasant week and for a short while more – good night & so-long, dear. I’ll call you when I reach Boston –

Love

Greg