04 December, 1943

438^th AAA AW BN

APO 515 % Postmaster, N.Y.

Dec 4, 1943   1500

Somewhere in England

Dearest One –

If I don’t hear from you soon, dear, I’ll run out of subject matter – as if that could ever happen. I’ll just keep on writing and one of these days I bet I hear from you. If you’re not already hearing from me, you must feel even worse than I, because I’m the one that’s away. Well don’t worry, darling, I’m perfectly all right.

Today my radio came and it was a thrill turning it on and hearing music again, the medical detachment cheered – and then their faces fell. I was using the battery, and it went completely dead. I suppose it was a combination of the longevity, plus the inactivity. This was my second battery – which I obtained in Nashville last April. As yet I haven’t been able to obtain the correct type of plug for these sockets, so I’ll have to wait, although I’ve already sent into town for one. In addition I have to buy a transformer because electricity here comes to buildings in 220 volts; ours of course is 110-120. But I’m glad I brought the thing. It may liven up the place a bit. In the short time that it played – I found out one thing, namely – that there’s a good deal of classical music on the air, plus a deluge of recordings in German – for propaganda purposes. At least 3 stations were pounding it out from the BBC – telling the Germans what they had to look forward to.

I paid my men today – as well as getting paid myself. My own pay wasn’t as much as some of my men – my change in allotment to myself not having gone thru. It’s a good thing I’m not planning to do very much. It will probably take another month or so dear – but one thing is certain – I can’t write any checks. The result is that my balance will increase by $100 per month. I get the balance of my pay minus insurance – in cash. Checks aren’t honored here. It’s just as well. The more I save, darling, the more I’ll have. We can spend our honeymoon on my checking account – because it was somewhere around $650 when I left.

Paying the men was amusing but confusing. When they got their money – English money, they started paying off their respective debts to one another and in a short while Charlie and I were settling minor disputes as to who was getting the better of whom. Now the boys are getting ready to hot-foot it to town and spend it all. It will be gone by another week, and then the cycle of borrowing starts all over again. It’s the closest thing to anything perpetual that I’ll ever run into.

Personally I’m holding on to my own. My pay was £14-10-4 or about 58 good old American bucks, or the equivalent of 116 excellent Martinis and about 135 fair martinis. That has to last me the rest of the month, dear. I can remember when it was good for a couple of weekends plus 10 C stickers. Oh hum – I’d gladly change.

Tonite, darling, Pete and I are planning to go into town to look around, although I’ve just heard that the stores closed at 1800. I was hoping we could look around a bit. At any rate we can have a couple of beers in some pub; – an hilarious evening no doubt.

Sweetheart – that’s about all for now except to remind you that I’m very much in love with you, remember? Take care of yourself and I’ll write again tomorrow.

All my love for now –

Greg

03 December, 1943

438^th AAA AW BN

APO 515 % Postmaster, N.Y.

Friday, Dec 3, 1943    1900

Somewhere in England

Dearest Wilma -

I sometimes sit down to write you and for a few split seconds I imagine I’m back in Camp in the States writing you daily. I used to write you early in the a.m. – those days. At this time of the evening I was trying to get Holyoke 9489 on the phone, having raced several other officers to the booth. What a luxury that was! And I remember saying I shouldn’t call you so often. I guess I was foolish; twice a day would have been better.

There’s an almost futile feeling that possesses one here. True, the familiar faces of the soldiers and officers are all around you – but that’s far from enough. It’s the ones you love back home that leave an inexplicable vacancy. You feel as if you just have to do something about it – but there’s just nothing that can be done. You can’t call, you don’t know whether cabling has been effective, you have no idea if your letters are being received, and each day goes by and brings you no letter. The thousands of miles separating you are real, literal miles. Darling – I love you so much it hurts not to be able to be in constant touch with you. I wonder what you do each evening, whether you find the nights as long and empty as I do, how you spend your week-end nights – and a thousand other things. The war, dear, is a tough one for people in love. I’m only realizing how tough, now. What must it be for the boys in the front lines!

And yet, suppose a fellow was not in love. What an empty feeling he would have not to be able to let his mind linger on someone and dream. So the heartache one has over a girl back home is in reality a blessing, because it fills in the void and produces a hopeful mind. And that, dear, is what I thank the Lord for every night when I retire. I hope I don’t make that seem selfish, Sweetheart. Love is that, in a way, but actually it transcends selfishness, because it involves a oneness of purpose and plans and future; and as I think of you, dear, I always feel as bad over the fact that you are missing me. I always think of our future and how happy I hope to make you, of the things we’ll have and do together, of how rich our lives are potentially – and you know, darling – when I get that far in my thought, I start feeling better, the war seems as if it must end in due time. I feel assured that you’ll be home waiting for me after this is over – and bingo, even the gray misty English skies seem bright and I get a real lift.

Darling – you wondered about the possibility of becoming estranged. I think the contrary. I feel that our exchange of ideas – even in letters, will make us know each other much better than when I left. I know I reveal myself in my writing – and you do, too, dear. I think that when I get back, our getting married to each other will be a perfectly natural thing for us. What a happy day!

Gosh, dear – I really got going, didn’t I? I wonder if you think I’m the moody type. You’ve seen me mostly when I’ve been gay and I’m afraid that since arriving here I’ve written a somewhat different view. But even so, no matter how blue I may feel when I sit down to write you, no matter how hopelessly far away I feel, before I finish writing I end up very very close to you. It’s a blessing to be able to do that – and I feel projected all the way to where you are. I can see you clearly – even without your picture which I hope is on its way. That picture, by the way, dear is going to be deeply treasured by me and I can’t wait for its arrival.

I haven’t said much about my activities in today’s letter, Sweetheart – just my thoughts. The truth is that the latter really makes up the most of my activities. Nothing much has happened since I wrote you last except one point of interest. You remember Eliot L.? Well, dear, I may be able to contact him in a day or two. I was surprised when I found he was very near here, already.

It is now past 1930. I’m going to jot a note to the folks and then read an old copy of The New Yorker – which I’ve carried with me from the States. I’ve written my brother to send me the Boston Herald. The English papers have only 4 pages to them, are very crowded, have no sport section and seem quite empty. Even old news will be good to read from home.

I’ll close now, dear, and wish you a “good-night” although its only the afternoon where you are. My best regards to your folks, and the girls – here’s hoping I hear from you soon.

You have all my love, darling –

Greg.

02 December, 1943

438^th AAA AW BN

APO 515 % Postmaster, N.Y.

Dec 2, 1943   1400

Somewhere in England

Dearest Sweetheart -

The sun is shining here today and it’s quite welcome. I wonder how your weather is. I hope that by graduation time the roads are nice and clear. I remember your plans included your folks driving up to Holyoke, with your Grandmother B. How is she, by the way, dear? When you next see her, give her my regards.

At the sake of being repetitious, darling, I’ll say again that I’ve had no mail from you or home – as yet. I don’t know why, because many of the other fellows are now receiving air-mail and V-mail quite regularly. So far Air-mail seems to be coming as swiftly as V-mail. I wonder if that’s true in the other direction. As soon as I hear from you, darling, I’ll let you know – so you can gather how long it takes. Since getting settled here – I’ve written you and my folks at least once per day and soon you should be hearing from me reasonably regularly. I know, Sweetheart, that you must be having a very busy time right now – and if you’re writing only when you have a chance – I understand perfectly, dear. Whenever it is – you can be sure I’ll be appreciative.

Yesterday I wrote you that the Battery Commanders were going out to dinner. The Col. came along too. After staggering thru the black-out we reached the village and passed thru a few alleys and got to the Inn. Many of these inns are in side streets. The place was very old and had 3-4 medium sized rooms where drinks were served, but there was no bar proper. In the room we sat down in – there was a nice large fireplace – with a swell fire going. We got there at 1830 and drank a few until 1930. Drinks are reasonable – only 1/8 for a very good rum – but no coke with it. We then had a steak, yes steak dinner – complete. I hardly believed that was possible in England. It was excellently served and was supposed to cost 7 shillings. Well – we had wine, and then a liqueur and anyway – we ended up paying a pound each which is 20 shillings – so somewhere along the way – the price went up very fast. But it was an enjoyable dinner. About 2130 – we went to an Episcopalian Church in the town. That is officially the Church of England, by the way. We were making arrangements for services for the boys on Sundays. We met a very interesting Vicar, dear – whose son is in the RAF and trained in Florida and Oklahoma. He showed us all over the place. It turned out that the church was one of the old ones in England – over 600 years old. It had been reformed but never rebuilt – and from a historical point of view, it was interesting in that Cromwell had kept political prisoners there. We finally left at 2230 and drove back here. So that’s how I spent my first nite out, darling. It was very relaxing and helped me quite a bit, because truth to tell – I was feeling somewhat low.

In the line of news, Sweetheart, I have nothing to offer. We are allowed 48 hour passes, but the U.S. is just out of reach on that. Some of the boys are planning to go to London one of these week-ends, and I may go with them, although I don’t believe it will be this week-end.

And so, darling, I’ll close again. I hope, dear, that all is well with you and your folks. Again – good luck in your exams and the sincerest wishes on your graduation, dear. Were I present – I would give you a hard kiss in front of everyone on Graduation Day. Remind me, dear – I’ll owe that one to you and will pay you with interest. So long

And as ever,

All my love

Greg

01 December, 1943

438^th AAA AW BN

APO 515 % Postmaster, N.Y.

Dec 1, 1943     1345

Somewhere in England

Dearest Girl -

Another day, and the same longing desire to hear from you. I sure do hope I will soon dear. It will be a great tonic.

You may have noticed that the return address on the envelope is printed, with my signature above it. That, darling, is the latest. I swear – before the war is over we’ll probably be writing the address underneath the stamp. Censorship is undoubtedly important, but I think they’re getting even themselves confused – let alone the enemy.

By the way – the margin left – at the left side of the envelope is to allow the censor to cut the edge, without destroying the return address. Am I leaving enough margin, and also in that connection – how often are the letters being opened, dear? I’m just curious as a matter of interest.

Well, Sweetheart, tonite being Wednesday – the old 438^th is just champing at the bit again. But there’s no Coonamessett Club out this way. Incidentally, I’m told that all the pubs carry signs saying there’s a fine for ‘pilfering’ glasses – so it’s going to be difficult to add to our collection. The last one I got was from the Hotel in N.Y. The reason I didn’t send it was because there was too much red tape involved in packing it and getting it censored. But I have it in my trunk and we’ll have it to add later on.

I started to write about Wed. night, dear. One of the Battery Commanders contacted an Inn about 5 miles from here and arranged for the 6 B.C.’s to have a duck dinner tonite. That will make the first nite out for me. They say these Inns are quaint, but dull. There’s no music and no one raises his voice. But it will get me out for a couple of hours anyway.

I’m still dreaming, darling – but last nite I got cheated; I didn’t dream of you. For some reason or other I dreamed about interning. I had just applied to the Mass. Gen. Hosp. – for a surgical appointment. Then there were a whole maze of events, and I’ll be damned if I know how it ended. I had been thinking of taking a course perhaps – after the war, and I imagine that’s how I dreamed about that.

You ought to be able by now, Sweetheart, to gather that all my time is projected beyond the present in everything I think or talk about. This is just a necessary part, I suppose – but as you suggested in a letter – the last act – a real longie, by the way, is yet to come. As a matter of fact – it’s so long, we’ll make a whole new play around it – but estranged from you, dear?? Never!

Well, darling – I’ve got some things to do. So long for now, Sweetheart – and all my deepest love

Greg

30 November, 1943 (2nd letter)

V-MAIL

438^th AAA AW BN

APO 515 % Postmaster N.Y.

Nov 30, 1943    2230

Somewhere in England

Dearest

I have just written you a fairly long letter by air mail – but I keep thinking that perhaps V-mail is quicker. Just so you’ll start getting some mail sooner, I thought I’d jot down a few lines.

Things are moving about normally, dear, but somehow the war and all always seems to be in second place to you. If I hadn’t told you before that I love you – I’d probably say again that love is behind that feeling. Well – if love is strong enough to make a war take second place, I can’t see the sense to it, and so there’s another reason I hope they end it all soon.

I’ve written more in my letter, darling – but I guess it all adds up to the same – that I love you and miss you – and want you – and oh so many more things along the same theme. For now, that’s all dear and

All my love

Greg

30 November, 1943

438^th AAA AW BN

APO 515 % Postmaster N.Y.

Sunday, Nov. 30, 1943    2130

Somewhere in England

Dearest Darling –

Each day I want to write you by V-Mail and then I decide to use Air Mail. One day you hear there’s no difference – and another day that there’s no comparison. Today, for example dear – I was told by an officer at a place where I was getting supplies – that V-mail takes 8-12 days, and air mail takes 3-4 weeks. I don’t know what to think or do, darling. I’ll just have to wait until I hear from you. I’ll mix in a few V-mails every now and then just in case.

I’ve just got thru reading another one of your letters; Surprised, dear? Yes – I’ve kept a good many of them – for just such an emergency as going overseas, for example. The one I just read was written the night (Sunday) I left you at Wilder and headed for Edwards, after I spent the week-end at Holyoke. I could write that a different way, Sweetheart, but it would sound funny. It was written when you thought you wouldn’t see me again, although before the letter was finished, you had made up your mind that we could see each other the following Friday – this, mind you, dear, after we had decided that it wouldn’t be wise. I laughed when I read that the first time, and again just now – because I no sooner had left So. Hadley Center – when I had already decided the same. And we did get to see each other, not only Friday – but Saturday too. Was our final ‘so-long’ so casual? I don’t mean casual, darling, I mean easy. In a way, it was, because we had done it before. As I think of it now though I wonder how I ever left you, dear. Why are we always so appreciative of things distant? Or – more appreciative, I should say, because the Lord knows – I loved you deeply and appreciated you all the time I was with you. It’s probably because when you are actually with one you love – that the sensual plays such a strong role; when you are separated – you have time to think and evaluate and weigh, and as I do all that, darling, I become even more aware of you and your qualities and love you more fully. I hope I’m making myself clear. I know this, dear – I never felt like this before – ever; and I did have occasion to. I know I would have loved you as much anyway, but maybe the war is a good thing in a way. It gives you a chance to survey the whole picture from a distance, and gives you plenty of time, at that. My picture is a perfect one dear. If only yours ends up the same way – I know we’ll be very compatible and happy.

Today, Sweetheart, I did some more riding around in a jeep – on business. It was rather cold – but I made good use of my hood – which has, by the way, turned out to be a good investment. Every now and then I think of my car – our car (with the push-back seat, you know). I wonder what has happened to it. Then I wonder what kind we’ll get after the war. I’d like to stick to convertibles – if you don’t mind, dear.

Today – Pete (and he sends his regards) and I were talking about the end of the war and how soon a fellow gets out. I suppose it’s kind of early to be thinking about such things – but I see no harm. If you have something worth waiting for – you don’t mind, and darling, I have you. After the war – it takes time to demobilize an outfit – but I believe it’s done in the States. We could be married before my discharge, couldn’t we? The work is routine; there’s no pressure – and why wait? That could perhaps save several months. It’s something to think about. I’m just waiting for that day, darling when I can call you my wife.

I suppose I sound very sentimental etc. But whatever it is Sweetheart – I hope I sound sincere. I am.

Well – it’s late and I’m tired, darling, so I think I’ll stop now and go to bed. You are all I think about at bed-time dear and it’s a pleasant way of falling asleep. Isn’t it?

Good-night, dear – and you have all my love.

Greg.

This Ration Card was issued to Greg on November 30th
for the month of December, 1943. The first two columns
list items and their weekly allotments. Subsequent
columns represent each week and show what was allotted.

CLICK ON IMAGES TO ENLARGE

29 November, 1943 (2nd letter)

438^th AAA AW BN

APO 515 % Postmaster N.Y.

Nov 29, 1943       2000

Somewhere in England

Dear Sweetheart –

I suppose if you were able to get my letters in sequence you’d be amused at the times I write. For instance, last night I wrote you a long letter, sealed it and then proceeded to write you a V-mail letter. I found little difficulty in having enough to write, dear. I wrote you a fairly long letter at about 1630-1700 this p.m. – and here I am writing again. If I tried to write you every time I thought of you – I’d be writing all day and would certainly cause a bottle-neck in the base censor’s office – so it’s a good thing, darling – that I have a couple of other things to do during the day.

Today I felt quite blue for a while, dear. Some of the men and officers got some mail – some dated as recently as Nov. 24. Charlie got two from his wife and one from his folks. They were all air mail and it seems wonderful to think that you can sometimes get mail within a week. They were all addressed with the old APO number. I would have given anything to have heard from you – but there wasn’t a thing for me. However – had I been the only one – I really would have felt bad, but several others didn’t hear and I guess there’s just no figuring how it works. I know you are writing and that’s what counts. I’m sure all your letters will eventually reach me, dear.

This evening we officially opened our officers’ mess, complete with bar. We had all contributed £1 (one pound or 4 dollars) to get a stock going. Then we pay for each individual drink and after the profits turn up – we’ll probably get our investment back. We’ve also given a sum for the purchase of eggs-in-the-shell, if possible; So far – no results. I had a couple of rums, cost 1/8. Remember there are 3 main divisions in prices: pounds, shillings and pence. If something costs one pound, one shilling and one pence – it’s written £1:1/1, so 1/8 = one shilling and 8 pence – or about 33 cents. It was good rum, dear – but you were missing from my side. I couldn’t very well squeeze one of the other officers hands, could I?

Now I’m back in the Dispensary, where I live, incidentally. I’ve got to get my dry cleaning and laundry ready for tomorrow. Yes – I’ve got better facilities here than in the States – except for you, darling! Then I have a few administrative matters to take care of, and I’ll go to bed. I can’t tell you anything about the night life, Sweetheart, because I haven’t been out of an evening as yet. I don’t seem to want to do anything but hang around and think of you. Eventually I’ll go out and have a couple of beers with some of the boys – probably with Pete, anyway.

Well – that’s all darling. This was supposed to be just a note, you remember. I hope, dear – you’re well – and also – that if these letters get to Wilder after you’ve gone, that they’ll be forwarded to Newton.

Good-nite, dear and regards to the girls

All my love

Greg.