15 December, 1943

438^th AAA AW BN

APO 515 % Postmaster, N.Y.

Wed. Dec 15, 1943       1000

England

Dearest Sweetheart –

I thought I’d write early today. Last night I waited for the mail before writing and when there was none for me I felt blue and as a result wrote you a sad-type letter. That is something, darling, that I should never do, and I’m sorry for it. By writing now, I can anticipate the coming of a letter and reflect some gaiety in what I say rather than disappointment.

Now, let’s see – what can I be gay about? To tell the truth, nothing particularly funny has happened here, that I can recall. I have to start most of it myself, as a matter of fact. The other day, at a so-called free hour for the battalion, assembled in one building, the party wasn’t doing too well. About half-past the hour I received a message to come quickly to that building. I took my stethoscope, thinking some one had either fainted or been hurt, but when I arrived the Colonel told me to get on the stage and entertain the boys. Well I did, in one way or another, dear.

By the way, darling, do you remember the one about the bald man who was in the restaurant and when he was brought his plate, took the vegetable and started rubbing his head with it? When the manager saw him, he approached him and wanted to know why he was doing that with the cabbage. “Oh!”, the man answered, “I thought it was Brussels Sprouts.” That, dear, is current in England now. I used to know a lot like that.

Well, today it’s pretty quiet around here. For one thing, sickness, thank goodness, is at a minimum; secondly, a good part of the outfit is away. That reminds me, darling, I’m getting a new APO number again in a couple of days. You can start using it anytime. The new number is 527. It has only slight significance and you can gather from its resemblance to 515 – that it is not an important and far-reaching change.

I just heard the news re-broadcast from N.Y. They give a summary here every morning and they include actual voice recordings of R.G. Swing, Paul Schubert and others – of the night before. It is nicely done and brings you right up to date with home. Incidentally, one of my radio tubes is weak and I’m afraid my radio may go on the bum soon. I’ve written my father, hoping he may be able to get one and send it out. It’s aggravating, because I was able to buy a battery for the radio the other day and was now fully equipped for electricity or battery.

An item in the news by the President, dear, must have been depressing to you – I refer to the estimate of 2 years for demobilization. Don’t get discouraged, darling. They usually demobilize by entire battalions, and it will undoubtedly be by seniority. My battalion is an old one and that would help. Anyway, we’d get married when I returned, in the Army or not, and we could live wherever I was stationed, until I got out. How does that sound? I haven’t expressed my opinion very much on the ending of the war – but this morning I feel optimistic – so I forecast the end of the European part of the war before my outfit ever gets into anything resembling real action.

Anyway you look at it Sweetheart, it will all turn out all right – for the very good reason that Fate will make it so for us. I have always felt that way about things I have wanted and felt I deserved. I don’t see why fate should quit on me now. I haven’t changed.

Ten days before Christmas, dear, and the days are slipping by; four days before your Graduation and I suppose the days can’t slip by fast enough to suit you. By the way, dear, are or rather did you have a picture of yourself taken in cap and gown? I hope you did, just for remembrance sake. I have some somewhere – not good, but a least a memento. If you’re over my house of an evening, have my mother show it to you. It’s very somber, as I recall it.

Sweetheart, that’s all in the line of chatter this a.m., except to remind you that I love you very much, Wilma and aim to marry you – or did I already propose to you? I have yet to ask your folks, by the way, but the pleasure will be all mine. So long for now, dear, and until later –

All my love

Greg

14 December, 1943

438^th AAA AW BN

APO 515 % Postmaster, N.Y.

Tuesday, Dec 14, 1943  1930

England

Darling Wilma –

I suppose I might as well tell you the truth; I’m horribly lonesome and my longing for you and your sweet company is beyond anything I imagined. I hate to write like this Sweetheart, but the last couple of days have seemed so utterly empty, I might as well get it out of my system. I insist I am not fundamentally unhappy because as I’ve said before, a person in love may be intermittently sad, moody, distraught or lonesome – but basically his love and its realization should make him a happy and lucky being. I feel that way, too, dear. If I didn’t – I couldn’t stand this aloneness which I guess every soldier must combat when he leaves home.

The days go by, one like the other. In this country, the blasted, gray, misty fog which apparently is always here, makes each day even more like the one it precedes or follows. I’m not really fed up with it so soon, darling, because my better sense tells me I don’t dare. I guess I’m just in love with you dear and long for you and your company. Thank the Lord for our memories. I see you all the time, near me, holding or squeezing my hand; glad to be with me as I was with you; riding around nowhere in particular but always enjoying it; visiting at your house and managing to get from the library to the living room where I could sit near you and give you what can only be described as a hurried hug; kidding with Mary and being chided by your mother for not knowing or caring about Bridge; wanting more and more each time I was with you to be alone with you, and when that was possible, enjoying it more and more; enjoying the physical contact because I knew already our intellectual desires were mutual and had wondered about the bodily –

Sweetheart – all these things come to me, over and over again; and more. Then why shouldn’t a fellow get lonesome when he has that to think about? How empty a life if that feeling doesn’t enter a person’s soul! Whatever you read into my writing, darling, please don’t get me wrong. I write this way, not to make you unhappy over my lonesomeness and not to make you feel sorry for me. If I thought either, I wouldn’t write like this. I’m just letting my thoughts come out as if you were here with me tonight and I was telling you how I felt about you and us, and life. I love you darling more than I knew. I know it’s easy to say a fellow writes a lot because he’s away. I’ve been almost as far away in the States from home as I am now, and I’ve never felt like this. I’ve merely had more time to think, and analyze my own reactions from the first night I met you – until right now. They all add up to what I’ve been writing about, dear – and I pray only that you always continue to feel about me the way you did when I left; that you’ll want me when the war is over as your husband, and that you won’t meet anyone while I’m away that will take you from me.

I remember well my reactions the first night I met you. You felt the same, I guess, dear – but on the way over to your house I said to myself “What in the world did I get a date for?” I was certain I wouldn’t have a very pleasant evening. And when I rang your doorbell, I was ready for anything. You answered the ring yourself, but I didn’t get a good look at you, but you wheeled around to get your coat and bag, and as you did I remarked mentally “Not bad!” And then we went on to have a very happy and joyous evening. And so it started and you must admit I never really let go of you until you loved me – although, darling, I remember when you accused me of being led into an ‘understanding’ with you.

It was a summer and fall, Sweetheart, that I’ll always remember, because it brought you to me and with you, a feeling I was beginning to believe I was to miss in life. Instead I am proud of you, and proud that you want to marry me. I love to refer to you as “my girl”, although I know that’s an ordinary way of putting it. In certain company, I say “my fiancée” and like to hear the fellows say, “and you, too?”

Do you think, dear, that this is all foolish prattle? Do you wonder perhaps that I never spoke this way to you and yet I write it? Remember – I was fundamentally shy and reserved in my actions and reactions – although I think I was changing fast under your tutelage. I have felt this way ever since I knew I loved you. I believe I was telling you more and more as each week slipped by. What you read, darling, is merely steady progress.

If I only had another letter or two from you, dear! Gee, some of the fellows are hearing from home more regularly than others – for some unknown reason. Today our dentist got two airmails dated Dec 1st – out of N.Y. Well – I’ll continue waiting, but I do so want to hear from you, Sweetheart!

I guess I’d better stop now, dear, and please excuse me for sounding so blue at the start of the letter. I feel better just having told you about it. I know, dear, even before I get your letters – how you must feel and I mind that more than I mind my own reactions. Cheer up, darling, we’ll make up for lost time – don’t you forget that! I’ve told you I’m very jealous of time and life and we’re going to make up for what we lost, with God’s help.

Take good care of yourself, darling, and be well. And send my fondest regards to your folks. If I haven’t mentioned them often in my letters – it’s not because I don’t think of them; it’s merely that I get so absorbed in my writing – that I finish the letter to you and that’s all I think of. So long, dearest, and you have

All my love

Greg

13 December, 1943

438^th AAA AW BN

APO 515 % Postmaster, N.Y.

Monday, Dec 13, 1943   1800

England

My dearest sweetheart –

For variety’s sake I didn’t write you this p.m. and waited until now, just after supper. Also I hoped to hear from you today, but no luck, dear – and I’ve already used up my ration of two letters from you which I received a few days ago. That last letter, darling, was written November 8 and was a pretty blue one. I guess you expected me to call, and I didn’t. You’ve heard long since how restricted we were at that time, dear, so I know you understand.

In that connection you also made a statement about not being able to write once I left for overseas and until I arrived. I wonder who started that rumor. It’s probably German propaganda, dear. I do hope that since then you’ve learned that was not true, because I’m still waiting desperately to hear from you from Nov. 21st on. As long, darling, as you have any APO number of mine, you can write me at any time. Even if you think my APO number has changed, it makes no difference. It’s always forwarded to our new location – and you just use the latest address you have.

Now having straightened that out, darling, all I have to do is sit back and wait for those letters to roll in. This past week-end was terrible. It just dragged along until I thought Sunday would never end. I did manage to play some bridge part of the p.m. – and it helped kill a couple of hours. Incidentally, I believe I’m improving, to wit – my partner and I trimmed a pretty good team yesterday made up of Charlie and another good player. Charlie plays a very good game – and playing opposite him, I’ve learned a few things. I’ll probably play again tonight, dear. My greatest fault I think is my tendency to under-bid my hand – which is a throwback to the old auction bridge, but I’ll get over it, I guess.

Today, dear, was very cold and gray, but still there’s been no snow. Shortly after lunch, and in deference to your express wish, darling, I went to a neighboring town and looked up a photographer. He didn’t want to take us (I interested another officer in going) because he was too busy for Christmas, but I told him I had left the States without having been able to give my fiancée a picture of me. He looked quizzically at me as if to say he could understand why, but the result was he said he’d do it. I doubt if this one comes out any better, dear. For one thing, I was frozen, and the British stores, etc. are all kept very cold. I don’t know how they stand it. Anyway, I shall look at the proofs and if anywhere near decent – I’ll have some made. If not, Sweetheart, be patient. I’ll keep trying to get one I think you’ll like of me – right up until the end of the war – even if I have to bring one back in person and hand it to you. If not, we’ll take one together after we’re married.

As each one of these days go by, darling, I think I’m as excited as you are about your graduation. No doubt you’ll tell me all about it, but it would have been so wonderful to have been with you this coming week-end. I would have loved also to be able to send you a gift – but it was impossible. Among other reasons is the paucity of gift items available in this country; also – you have to have points for about everything and the Army is reluctant to issue them or have them issued to the soldiers because it encroaches on the English. I’m now down to looking for little trinkets of one sort or another, but up to now have failed to find even those. I do hope though, dear, that you receive a little card from me wishing you the best of luck.

One thing has worried me the past few days, darling, – the flu epidemic which the U.S. is supposed to be having. You may have read of one here. Don’t worry about me. I’m immune to it and I have felt fine. I do hope there’s none around your way and that you stay well. And do you have to be told to wear your scarf, dear, when you go out, or are you taking care of yourself for me?

Darling, that’s all for now. I have to check some men who want to go on pass and have just got over being sick. They’re not allowed out until I clear them. I miss you dear more than I can express in writing, and I love you just as much. Do you keep reminding yourself of that? Goodnight for now, Sweetheart – and

All my love

Greg

* TIDBIT *

about the Flu Epidemic in December of 1943

[Note from FOURTHCHILD: The following is an excerpt from Atlantic Magazine published in March of 1944, discussing the ongoing flu epidemic and the numbers for December of 1943.]

Although influenza is still far below its 1918-1919 level, we must not be complacent. Some signals are flying. The number of influenza cases, 82,951 reported by our State Department Health for the week ending December 18, 1943, was more than three times greater than the previous week and more than twenty-seven times that of the corresponding week in 1942. While the fight goes on, let us consider what advances have been made since 1918-1919 in the prevention and treatment of influenza and its ally, pneumonia.

[Click here to see the full article, a good read as it discusses the future of "virus" research, some of which remains true today. The following excerpt is an example.:

One can only hope that by "cookbook chemistry," the laborious making and testing of thousands of compounds, or a lucky strike, someone will find an agent which can penetrate our cells and reach the viruses so securely ensconced within them. When this discovery comes, it will be one of the last steps needed for the control of infectious disease.

12 December, 1943 (Route of the "?")

Route of the Question Mark

Page 18 from The Route of the Question Mark is transcribed below, describing how time was spent since arriving in the UK, and pinpointing Doddington Park, Nantwich, Cheshire as "Somewhere in England."

page 18

...Scotland and the Firth of Clyde... The band that played for us on the railway platform at Gourick, Scotland...  Thanksgiving Day, 1943, and our K ration meal on the train from Gourick to Crewe, England... Doddington Park... The fog... The rain... The darkness... The English winter, and the English blackout, which we scrupulously observed... The unpleasant mess hall... The one clear day at Doddington, when Capt SILVIS took us for a walk to observe the English countryside... Our first pubs: The Boar's Head at Doddington, and the Red Lion at Nantwich... The ATS Girls, and our first contact with the English... The dances at Crewe... "Roll Me Over In The Clover, Roll Me Over, Lay Me Down, And Do It Again"... Giving up our American money and receiving pounds, shillings, and pence for it... The reckless poker games that taught us the value of this currency...

Here are a few links to click on:

Doddington Hall in Doddington Park

Boar's Head Inn, Walgherten, Nantwich, Cheshire

The ATS (Auxiliary Territorial Service) Girls

The Red Lion, on Barony Road, was demolished for a care home.

As for the quoted tune, here are the full lyrics...

Now, this is number one
And the fun has just begun.
Roll me over, lay me down,
And do it again.

[CHORUS]
Roll me over, in the clover,
Roll me over, lay me down,
And do it again.

Now, this is number two,
And he's got me in a stew.
Roll me over, lay me down,
And do it again.

[CHORUS]

Now, this is number three,
And his hand is on my knee.
Roll me over, lay me down,
And do it again.

[CHORUS]

Now, this is number four,
And he's got me on the floor.
Roll me over, lay me down,
And do it again.

CHORUS]

Now, this is number five,
And his hand is on my thigh.
Roll me over, lay me down,
And do it again.

[CHORUS]

Now, this is number six,
And he's got me in a fix.
Roll me over, lay me down,
And do it again.

[CHORUS]

Now, this is number seven,
And it's just like being in heaven.
Roll me over, lay me down,
And do it again.

[CHORUS]

Now, this is number eight,
And the doctor's at the gate.
Roll me over, lay me down,
[CHORUS]

Now, this is number nine,
And the twins are doing fine.
Roll me over, lay me down,
And do it again.

[CHORUS]

Now, this is number ten,
And he's started once again.
Roll me over, lay me down,
And do it again.

12 December, 1943

438^th AAA AW BN

APO 515 % Postmaster, N.Y.

Sunday, Dec 12, 1943    1150

England

Dearest and only Sweetheart –

Among so many other things I like about you is your artistic ability, darling – especially when you design intertwining hearts, one of which I always assume is yours, and the other – dare I say it – mine. I always look, dear, to see which has been pierced more severely by the arrow. The last set was a draw, if I may use the word, and that’s the way it should be. But seriously darling, I love it and keep it up.

After a long wait, dear, I got two more letters from you late yesterday. I read the earlier of the two and so help me I put the other aside for today and shall read it a little later. It’s hard to do, but it’s worth it for you see today I have something to look forward to.

I don’t know how long the mail situation will remain like this – but we’re getting ours in reverse. The last two letters I received were written the 7th and 8th of November. That about includes and concludes the interval between Edwards and you know what. Of course it doesn’t make any difference to me how I get my letters from you dear as long as I get them. I’m certain now though, that regardless of how long it takes, all our letters eventually reach us, and that’s a comforting thought.

Your letter of the 7th was a real “longie” as you put it, and I read it three times at the first sitting. That was the day your folks drove you back. I’m glad you drove, dear, and I hope you have your license to drive by the time I get back. It will be convenient because until I can get you a car of your own, you will want to use mine, while I’m having office hours or at the hospital etc. You also mention the lighter in that letter. I hope you are getting some use of it, darling.

Charlotte S. did sound dumb from the way you described her, especially when she said she was getting to forgetting her husband. Having a child and another one coming gave her so much to remember him by it seems to me. Concerning her description of the “1st week” which by the way has been told and retold by many a young bride – it’s a matter of point of view, as I look at it and always depends on the parties involved. For some reason or other it reminds me of the Gigolo in the Leper Colony who was doing all right until his business started falling off.

Well last night, instead of playing bridge as I wrote you I intended doing, I went into town. We send a convoy of trucks loaded with men into the nearest town. It leaves here at 1830 and leaves town at 2300. It’s the only means of transportation for the boys. An officer has to be in charge, and last night was my turn. Usually the great percentage head for the town hall where a public dance is held. I went up, as chaperone of course – because no other officer was present. Officers don’t go to the dance because it’s for enlisted men. It was an experience, dear. The girls looked as if they were anywhere from 13 to 17, which ought to make you feel pretty old, darling. (heh, heh.) Apparently there are far more girls around in this country, too – because they swarmed all over the men. (I was unmolested.) They seemed to follow American style dancing quite well – but the orchestra played too many waltzes to suit our boys. The girls cut in regularly on dancing couples and even on two girls dancing, if you can imagine it. I couldn’t help but feel sad for these girls. The past 4 years have been black ones for them, just when they should be enjoying life. The dresses are shabby, actually, and the shoes frayed. Many of them were wearing shoes with wooden soles, without heels. One of the drivers told me they had not had things like gum or peanuts for four years. If they haven’t had those things, you can imagine they’ve gone without much more. But you never hear any beefing and their spirit is admirable. It’s inconceivable when you’ve been here even a short while that Americans can enjoy so many luxuries. It’s truly a blessed and rich country we have and certainly well worth fighting for.

I know. I’ve spoken, or written rather, a great deal about the British and what few impressions I’ve received. I don’t know whether you find it interesting or not, dear. Tell me if I dwell too much on the subject. I don’t want to be boring.

By the way, you mention bashfulness or shyness or the possibility of it in my writing because of censorship. Well, what do you think, darling, am I? I’m not ashamed to say the things I want to, dear, no matter who reads my letters.

I’m anxiously awaiting your picture, dear. If I get anywhere near a place where I can have mine taken, I’ll do it.

Well Sweetheart, I’ve rambled enough for one sitting. It’s getting near lunch time – so I’ll close now. Darling I’m writing often and I hope you think so. I’ll continue to until war’s end – no fear about that. I love to write to you and I hope you find what I write interesting. I enjoy what letters I receive from you and I anxiously await each day’s mail. Keep them coming, darling, because I love you so very very much – I need them. Be well, darling, and you have

All my love, Sweetheart

Greg.

11 December, 1943

438^th AAA AW BN

APO 515 % Postmaster, N.Y.

Saturday, Dec 11, 1943  1400

England

My dearest Wilma -

Saturday afternoon – and once upon a girl there was a – excuse me dear – once upon a time I was wont to ride in either of two directions, but with you as the goal in both cases. Gosh they say that in the army one day is like another day, but somehow I’m always aware acutely of the arrival of Saturday and Sunday, and I have no doubt you are too, dear. On December 3rd, darling, I was on the Army active list for eighteen months. I can hardly believe it. I still find myself thinking in terms of when I closed my office; I don’t find a place for the 1½ year period – except the latter part of it.

Do you ever wonder, Sweetheart, whether or not we would have met had I not been in the Army. Of course I was getting fed up with my lonesomeness in Salem. Superficially I had plenty to do and places to go to, but when I got back of an evening I would feel very blue and realized I was missing one important thing, love for a woman and a woman’s love, in short – a wife. I suppose I would have started looking for someone, and yet I kept putting it off. Boston was a long way off it seemed, and I just stayed in the same old groove. What would have eventually happened, I don’t know. I’m not the bachelor type because I believe too much in a wife and family life. I would have gone on being fundamentally unhappy.

The fact that I didn’t get to meet you before I actually did is my own fault – but I’m satisfied now, dear.

I was just re-reading the last letter I received from you, written Nov. 21. I like it for several reasons, darling, but particularly because it’s the latest. If you’re like me, as time goes by you’ll scan my letters more and more closely to see if there are any changes, obvious or hidden. Human nature, darling, is like that and that’s not harmful at all. I pray, dear, that I never find any changes, that you continue to write that you’re “deeply in love” with me and that I have all your love. Nothing else will make me happy. Less than that will sadden my life. Remember ever, darling, that you have me if you want me.

Your reference to the “Rear Admiral” was funny, but if you want to be a doctor’s wife you must say ‘hemorrhoids!’ You have nice relatives, darling, and very friendly they were to me, too. I know they’re very fond of you, and if they liked me at all, it’s a great compliment. Won’t if be fun to have them over and entertain in our own house! We’ll have the widest circle of friends and relatives a couple ever had, or I miss my guess, dear.

But yes, this was Saturday afternoon and I’m so far away Sweetheart. It’s such an annoying, gnawing realization and at times seems unbearable. I’m in my office now, listening to the radio. It’s quiet and warm – but I’m so damned lonesome and I dread the thought of the evening. I’m not afraid of “diversion and thus a date”, as you put it dear. That won’t help me at all and if it did, I wouldn’t like it, because I don’t want anyone to divert me but you. I suppose we can get a bridge game going but it’s going to be a long evening.

So far there’s been no mail today. I heard disconcerting news yesterday to the effect that initial mail from here to home sometimes takes as long as 5-6 weeks to arrive and that even cablegrams take almost as long. I was under the assumption that you certainly had heard from me by this time. Gee I hope so, darling. I don’t mind so much not hearing as long as my letters get to you – but I’m convinced that when I do get the next batch from you that I will read your letters in sequence, and one each day. The in-between periods are much too lonesome and aggravating.

I’m afraid I’m sounding too blue, darling, but excuse it. I have plenty to be thankful for and I’m not forgetting that. As long as I have your love, I’m happy. I miss you strongly, but that’s natural, and as I’ve said before, that’s a good sign and I expect to keep on missing you. Why – I expect to miss you Sweetheart – if you leave Salem for an afternoon to visit your mother, for example, – so why shouldn’t I miss you now?

So long, dearest – until tomorrow and best of luck in your new job, whatever it is, but keep away from anything male – because you’re mine! You see – I am possessive – but please dear, don’t tell me too much so.

Auf Weidersehen, darling and

All my love for now

Greg

10 December, 1943

438^th AAA AW BN

APO 515 % Postmaster, N.Y.

Dec 10, 1943     1045

England

Dearest beloved -

I suppose that if you received my mail daily in sequence – it would read like a chronicle. It must be confusing to get them mixed, as you probably do. As I figure things, with censorship and the usual hold up of letters in the early days of arrival, you should be just about beginning to receive my mail somewhere about this date. Am I correct, dear? Of course this time of the year with Christmas packages and all I guess the mail is delayed even more than usual. I think you’ll eventually find, dear, that you’ll hear from me by air-mail in about one week’s time, which isn’t bad. I remember when I was in Fort Jackson, S.C. – it sometimes took 4 days for my mail to get home. Only there I was able to call frequently.

If you have my letter written last night, darling you’d know that we received no mail yesterday because the mail truck broke down. It finally got in about 0100, and was sorted out this a.m. – but no mail for me. So what can I do about it, dear? Nothing except to use my imagination again – and I sure do feel sorry for anyone who hasn’t got one and has to be away from home. I’ve been using mine pretty steadily, darling. When I don’t hear from you, I tell myself you are writing anyway and then I try to imagine what you might have written – and it’s always something sweet, dear.

Yesterday I heard a re-broadcast of an old “Hit Parade”. Number one at that time was “Brazil” and number two “It seems to me I heard that etc.” Frank Sinatra crooned, and the audience sighed deeply. Incidentally, I heard that someone was found at a Sinatra program who actually fainted. Investigation showed she hadn’t eaten all that day. In the evening I heard the program “Mail Call” direct from Hollywood – which is broadcast to soldiers overseas only. Lionel Barrymore, Dennis Day, Baby Snooks, and a few others took part. It’s wonderful, dear, to hear an American program – no matter what it is – And the American announcers sound so homey. And you know how irritating the advertisements used to sound? Well I’d like to hear a couple of choruses of Pepsi-cola and others. The B.B.C. and the stations of the continent have no advertisement at all. The program runs until the end of the half-hour or hour, the time is announced and the new program started. On the hour – the British Stations give the chimes of Big Ben from London – instead of the staccato notes of the WBC or CBS.

I’m getting as I can recognize more and more of the French and German that we hear so much of on the radio – so I’ll have to consider this trip as partly educational, dear.

I’m going to stop now – without closing the letter. I’ve got to do a couple of things before lunch – and perhaps today’s mail will be in, early p.m. Solong for now, Sweetheart

2200

Hello dear –

That was a longer pause than I anticipated. Several things turned up – but the one that took the longest was an unexpected trip to the hospital. One of our officers has been quite sick and I had to go see if he were going to be transferred out of our outfit. I didn’t get to the hospital until 1630 and after checking up on several of the boys – I met an M.D. who hails from the North Shore. Well we got to talking and he invited me to the Officers’ Mess. It was too late to get back to ours, so I stayed. Then we smoked awhile in the Officers’ Lounge and before I knew it – it was quite late, darling, and we had to make our way back thru the blackout. No, dear, I don’t often forget myself and let the hours slip by – so you needn’t start worrying about my being late for dinner and supper. If I know you’re at home waiting, I’ll be on time, dear, you’ll see. I don’t hurry now, because there’s no one here to hurry to. It will be swell seeing you often during the day (and night too, of course). That’s one of the privileges of being an MD, you can see your wife a whole lot more of your lifetime than the layman.

Coming back tonight – the moon was big and the sky clear – for a change. I looked up at it all the 31 miles back and dreamed of you. If you saw the moon too dear – you must have felt something because I was concentrating very hard.

On returning here I found no mail. I don’t mind so much but I’m beginning to worry about your receiving my mail. I do hope you are by now. I’ll close now Sweetheart because I’m tired and want to get some sleep. Be patient darling. I’ll write tomorrow and meanwhile –

All my love to you, dear

Greg