25 December, 1943

438^th AAA AW BN

APO 527 % Postmaster, N.Y.

Saturday, Dec. 25, 1943 1630

England

Dearest darling –

Somehow it isn’t much like Christmas today here. Perhaps it’s because we didn’t have any Turkey for dinner. For one reason or another we’re having our Turkey dinner this evening. It really makes little difference – because it seems that every one here is rather blue, not only the officers in our outfit – but the other officers as well. A few of them last night at the club tried to tie one on with liquor and forget, but it didn’t materialize, from what I could notice. The rest sat around, no one did much singing, most waited around for the movie – and it was just another night.

The movie was “The Moon is Down” – Steinbeck’s picture – which again I had seen before. It was a poor choice for Christmas Eve – but they put on what they get. I stayed around until the end because some of our officers were seeing the picture and I wanted to talk with them after the show. Pete was there and we had a little get together and reminisced for awhile. Then I came back here to my room and listened to the radio – and that made me even more lonesome. I tuned in on a program being broadcast from Cambridge. It was a dance run for American soldiers by the City and they were hooked up with the Mutual Broadcasting System Co. and the boys were allowed to say “hello” etc. on the mike. Well – it would have been very easy for me to have been at the dance, had I known they were going to have that there – but it was now about 2200 and much too late to go. You might not have been listening anyway at that time of day, anyway, dear.

I once promised my mother that if I ever got to London I would try to broadcast on the Eagle Club program. Did you ever hear it, dear? It’s a re-broadcast program on Saturday evening about 1900 and is just a series of ‘hellos’ etc. But I think the program is done on a Thursday p.m. and I would have to be in London at that time. I may give it a try, though.

This p.m. – the radio is filled with propaganda from both sides. First I heard the Archbishop of Canterbury, then a German re-broadcast of Dr. Goebbels's speech, then Roosevelt’s message to the soldiers, and so on and on. It’s all a lot of bunk, no matter how you look at it, darling, and the unmitigated fact is that all the good wishes put together don’t help one bit in making you feel much better.

A little while ago I tuned in on the American Forces program and heard the short wave broadcast from Hollywood with Bob Hope as Master of Ceremonies, J. Durante, F. Langford, Duffy’s Tavern, Ginny Sims, Kay Keyser, Nelson Eddy and a couple of more. Next to a letter, sweetheart, so far that has turned out to be the best thing to cheer up a guy – not necessarily because of the humor but because they remind you so much of home.

[Note: You can listen to that recording on the entry for 3 January, 1944]

In a little while, dear, I’m going up to the Club, eat, and try to kill another evening. I thought so hard of you today, darling, and wondered what you were doing and whether you were missing me as much as I miss you.

I’ll stop now, darling. Still no mail from you or home. Some of the boys got some today and maybe I’ll hear soon. I sure hope so, dear. I love you, darling, and always remember that – no matter how blue I may sound in my letters, if I’m blue dear – it’s because I have to be away from you – but I’ll get over it as soon as I get back. So long for now, sweetheart – and all my deepest love for now.

Greg

P.S. Regards to your folks, dear. Excuse my blue letter, darling. That’s one thing I hate to do – but I try not to do it often. As a matter of fact – just having written you makes me feel better, darling – and by the way – you now owe me 3014 kisses. Don’t ask me what system I use – but I’m keeping score

Love,

G.

24 December, 1943

438^th AAA AW BN

APO 527 % Postmaster, N.Y.

Friday, Dec. 24, 1943 1100

England

Wilma darling –

Good morning to you – or are you still sleeping, dear? Let’s see – it’s about 0600 at home – and working or no, you must be in bed – so I won’t disturb you and just go on writing quietly.

This is the earliest I’ve written you for a long time, Sweetheart, and it’s because there happens to be a lull in activities just at this moment. I can remember writing you at 0700 when I was back at Edwards – Now the mail doesn’t go out until about 1300 – so I usually have plenty of time. I’ve been writing on one day and the letters have gone out the next so you can actually deduct one day’s time in transit.

In one of your letters you mention that you re-read my letters. If you get many more – it seems to me you’ll have to divide them into volumes, dear – because I’ve sent you a whole lot of them.

Last night I got a fake thrill, two of them as a matter of fact. First – someone came into our quarters and said there were 7 bags of mail for the battalion. That was what we’d been waiting for. A short time later someone else came in and said that the mail turned out to be all packages, newspapers and periodicals – but that there was a letter for me. Well Hallelujah! I tore down to battalion headquarters and after looking all over the place – they found my letter – but darling – it wasn’t from you. It was from a friend of mine who is stationed in England and who found my APO number. Well, dear, I was pretty disappointed because I sure was expecting to spend a pleasant evening reading your letters – but as I’ve said before, sic transit gloria mundi, c’est la guere, a whippoorwill’s warble in apple blossom time, and anything else you can think of.

Well – I went up to the Club with nothing to do. I had seen the picture they were going to show, and I was feeling pretty blue. But thanks to the telephone service in England, I managed to kill a couple of hours’ time before the evening was over. The letter I had received contained a telephone number for me to call this fellow. The number was [cut out by censor]. That sounded all right to me and after procuring what I thought would be enough shillings, sixpences and pences – I started to make the call. I have never run into a more stupid bunch of people in my life than the English operators. I finally ended up talking to someone I believe must have been the President of the company, if they have a President – and still no luck. All insisted they didn’t know the exchange. Well that seemed possible, but what about looking it up? They said they didn’t know how to go about it; did I have any idea? I was flabbergasted but determined to get my call through. That’s as far as I got, Sweetheart. I never did get it through – even though at one time I had the Central Red Cross working for my side, too.

When I gave up, it was after 2100 and time for me to go to my quarters, and bed. But I was satisfied, dear, because I had managed to kill an evening – and that’s the thing most desired around here.

This morning was not too busy, although I had a couple of accident cases, one of whom needed a few sutures in two fingers. When I finish this letter, I’m going upstairs to the laboratory and get my ultra-violet treatment. What a way to fight a war!

I had an interesting case yesterday of a soldier with a normal temperature, but with a cough. He looked sick to me, although a couple of other doctors were willing to let him go. I kept listening to his chest and finally convinced myself he had some pathology, probably early pneumonia. I had him admitted and ordered an x-ray. I’ll be damned if the plate didn’t show an early pneumonia on the field and I was pleased that my ears were still acute enough to hear some early signs. Have to stop now, dear – will continue later.

1700

Sweetheart –

I’m sorry I took so long in getting back. You must be having your lunch now. I remember well the occasions when I had lunch or dinner at your home. It was becoming more and more informal and natural for me – and I suppose for you too, dear. I never did get the opportunity of having your folks out with us as our guests, did I? Time ran out so fast once it got going. Things kept being postponed and I remember being a bit impatient. What a fool a man can be! The only thing I’m sorry was postponed was our engagement. That would have been a nice thing to have with me as a memory and token. Sometimes, darling, I become so afraid about us; I know we love each other and yet I realize that my hold on you is so tenuous. Not that an engagement is necessarily binding, but it might make a difference. I don’t want it to in our case, dear. I just keep wondering if you got to know me enough to continue to love me while I’m away. I know I could have held your love if I were around. I’m not being doubtful or suspicious, dearest – just speculative and real.

For my own part – as I’ve written you before many times, I suspect, I love you and want to marry you and intend to marry you – as soon as I get back. Whether I’m still in the Army or not. No one else in my life exists for me in that connection, darling, except you and I can’t impress that upon you too much.

Absence does make me grow even fonder for you and even if I tried I can’t conceive of caring for anyone as much as I do for you. I have never been able to visualize or dream about any girls as my wife, as someone with whom to spend the rest of my life, someone to confide in, worry with, have a family with and live life with – as I have with you, dear. The reason? No – not part of a plan that you fit into; you once suspected that, I remember – but I think you must give me credit for more sense than that. No, darling; it’s just that after I had been out with you a few times I learned to love your spontaneity, your love for life, your manner and bearing, you’re freedom. I soon realized that you embodied the things in a woman that I had been looking for and had never quite found. So despite the brevity of the courtship – if you want to call it that – I’m convinced we were meant for each other darling and I want you to keep feeling the same way.

Well, I did get serious, dear – didn’t I? The minutes have slipped by and the boys are now yelling – yes, yelling for me to get going to mess – so I’ll be stopping again. It will be a quiet Christmas Eve here, dear – but I don’t mind – as long as I have my thoughts of you. A Merry Christmas, Sweetheart – and a New Year that gives us the happiness we both want so much. I wonder if you got my Cablegram.

My best wishes also to your folks and Mary and tell them had I been in the States I would have liked nothing better than to have spent the evening with all of you. Regards from Pete and Charlie who both send their love.

So long for now, darling – and all my love to you.

Greg.

23 December, 1943

438^th AAA AW BN

APO 527 % Postmaster, N.Y.

Thursday, Dec 23, 1943 1400

England

Dearest sweetheart –

This makes ten days since I last heard from you and believe me, dear – it gets hard to take about this time. Yesterday for the whole of Headquarters there was only one letter and that’s the way it has been all week. But then, darling, it seems to me that I’ve mentioned the mail before – so excuse it, please?

Well, where was I then? I guess I wrote you last on yesterday – early afternoon. It was a cold, but bright day and everyone stayed indoors as much as possible. I remained at the hospital until it was time to eat. My squash date didn’t materialize. While waiting for supper – which is at 1745, we played a little Snooker which is a famous English game of billiards. I’ve never had much to do with billiards or pool – but this game is very good for passing an hour’s time way. I met a Scottish chaplain who showed me a few twists to the game. It’s almost as complicated as Bridge, dear. After supper some of the boys had some beer. I didn’t feel like having any. As a matter of fact I’ve done practically no drinking at all in England and I can’t say I miss it. It’s easy to become a hard drinker in this country because everything you have is straight and I don’t like alcoholic beverages that way at all, thank goodness. I’d pay a Crown for a good Martini or a reasonable facsimile. Right now, dearest, my only vice is smoking, and that’s rationed too – so I’m getting purer and purer each day! My health really is improving though – because we get plenty of sleep, food, rest and relaxation. My weight is going up, too, dear and I’m now crowding 170 lbs which is as much as I want to weigh.

Well – the movie last night at the Club was another oldie – “Ship Ahoy”, with Red Skelton and Eleanor Powell. I had seen it at least a year ago, I’m sure – but I sat around and saw it again. There were a few laughs in it. Tonight they’re putting on ‘Bombardier’ which I saw last summer at Edwards and which wasn’t very good. I know I won’t be able to see that over again. I’ll either play squash or go to bed earlier than usual, dear.

I’m listening to my radio now. The program has changed. I thought I had an English station on, but I found it’s another one of those blasted German stations. This one is broadcasting from Bremen and is now giving the news – in English. It’s amazing how they distort the details so that one would think the Germans were attacking on all fronts. Their broadcasts in German are just as false and you wonder just how long they can keep up their lies. Take it from me, dear, the Germans are taking an awful pounding from the air.

I can’t seem to believe, darling, that it’s only two days before Christmas or a little over a week to New Year’s Eve. I’m going to be blue as all hell on New Year’s Eve, I know. If I had some liquor I’d get tight and try to forget for a couple of hours – but that wouldn’t help very much.

Pete and I have put in our applications for a 48 hour pass starting Monday Jan 3 at noon and ending Wed. the 5th at noon. I just want to get a look at the city that used to be the world’s largest. By the way, I’ve inquired about calling by phone to the States and it’s no soap. It is not open to soldiers – so that settles that, dear. It used to cost about £8 or about $32.00 and would easily have been worth it to be able to hear your voice for 3 minutes. If I arrive in N.Y. on my return, Sweetheart, I’ll call you from there – just to make sure you’re around when I hit Boston. My mind’s running away with me, I guess – so I’d better cut out that line of thought for awhile. I’ll stop writing for now, darling, but I won’t stop thinking of that day that we’re both dreaming of.

So long, dearest, until tomorrow and I do miss you terribly, sweetheart. For now, as for always

All my love

Greg

Regards to the folks

* TIDBIT *

about "Ship Ahoy"

 

 

First, from YouTube, this wonderful trailer...


"Ship Ahoy" Trailer

And here is an interesting note about "Ship Ahoy" from the Turner Classic Movie site:

Ship Ahoy was originally called I'll Take Manila, but by the time the film was released in May 1942, the Japanese had taken the Philippines. The result was a new title, a new setting (Puerto Rico), and a new song: the number "I'll Take Manila" became "I'll Take Tallulah"! That would be Tallulah Winters, the name of the character played by Eleanor Powell. She's a dancer with Dorsey's band on a passenger ship to Puerto Rico. On board, she gets involved in a spy plot involving stolen plans for a new weapon. Red Skelton, Bert Lahr and specialty performer Virginia O'Brien (with her trademark deadpan style) provide much of the comedy, but really it's the music and dancing that are the show here. Variety thought so, too, calling the picture "grandiose silliness" and praising the music above all else. The reviewer also declared Lahr to be "the comic mainstay of the film," outshining even Skelton, who had only recently become a star thanks to his turn in Whistling in the Dark (1941).

22 December, 1943

438^th AAA AW BN

APO 527 % Postmaster, N.Y.

Wed. Dec 22, 1943 1500

England

Dearest Wilma –

I wonder sometimes how my letters must sound, separately or in a bunch. I know I repeat myself often and I hope, dear,  you bear with me. I like to write about everything that happens, within censorship regulations, that is, and writing from one day to the other I often find myself wondering if I mentioned a certain thing or other. Not being certain, I tell you about it anyway and consequently you must read the same thing a few times over, dear.

Telling you I love you doesn’t come under that category, however, sweetheart; it’s a pleasure to do that, just as being able to love you in person would be an even greater enjoyment, no matter how much. I think I would be tireless on the subject – how about you, darling?

Last night when I got through writing to you and my folks, I climbed into bed and read some more of that little book I mentioned to you yesterday or the day before. It’s so light and easy and most enjoyable. They no doubt have it in the States – but I’ll mail this out to you anyway, dear. Read it and save it for our library, although it really isn’t much of a start. I used to have a rather decent collection in college and Med. School. When I started moving from hospital to hospital, I lost track of them one by one – but I probably have a few kicking around here and there. Anyway we can start from scratch and build up one of our own. Say, we’ll have so many things to do – it will be wonderful living together, darling.

At 0700 – someone tapped at my door to awaken me. I was already awake, dear, but just lying in bed thinking of you – I always start and end the day that way, and it isn’t bad at all. Well, I got out of bed, started shaving, washing. About 20 minutes later, someone knocked again. I asked him in and there was a soldier with a breakfast tray for me. Now I won’t get spoiled, darling, but it certainly was nice. So I didn’t even have to go over to the Officers’ mess. After breakfast, I started sick call. Besides our own men – I help with sick call for the other troops here. It ends up as a fairly long morning – but I do get a chance to see more cases and of a more diverse nature too.

Later in the morning, four or five of us read and interpreted the x-rays that were taken the day before and then we made rounds of the hospital patients. The morning, therefore, dear, is fairly full. The afternoons, though, are quite dull and long. I was supposed to play squash late this p.m. – but my opponent has had to take a short trip and may not be back in time before supper.

Yesterday p.m. I went to a nearby town to look for Christmas decorations for the men’s mess halls. I didn’t realize how bare and cold this country really is. Not a store in town, and it’s good sized, had anything resembling Christmas ornaments and the clerks looked surprised when I asked about it. Even Woolworth’s – and they have them all over England – had nothing. They call Woolworth the 3 and 6 stores – 3 pence and 6 pence or a nickel and dime. I also tried to get a pair of sneakers for the squash court and the storekeepers thought I was crazy. Anyway – I couldn’t buy any if they had them because I needed one of those infernal coupons. I ended up by making one purchase – a ribbon which I’m supposed to wear over my left blouse pocket – European Theater of Operations Ribbon.

So there you are sweetheart – all my activities are now up to date. As yet I haven’t been to town of an evening and I don’t think I’ll be going much. I’m entitled to a 48 hour pass one of these days and Pete and I are planning to go to London and perhaps Cambridge. London, they say, is very dead – with nothing to do after 1200 – but we’ll just want to look around.

Darling I wish I’d hear from you again – but nothing doing so far since over a week ago; Maybe soon. I’ll stop now, dear, wishing that I were able to say ‘so long’ with a hard kiss or 12, but what’s the use? I’ll just save them up. Really, dear, you owe me 2864 kisses and don’t you dare tell me your lips won’t be tired. So long for now, dearest and

All my love

Greg

* TIDBIT *

about the European Theater of Operations Ribbon

This campaign ribbon was created, by order of President Franklin D. Roosevelt on 6 November 1942, to recognize those who served in the European Theater, including North Africa and the Middle East, during WWII. The green-white-red band to the right of the first brown field represents Italy. The blue-white-red band in the middle represents the France. The white-black-white band represents Germany. The brown and green bands represent the battlefields, across the sands of Africa and the fields and mountains of Europe.

18 December, 1943 (2nd Letter)

[Note from FOURTHCHILD:
Apologies for posting this letter,
the second written on the 18th of December, 1943,
three days late.]

438^th AAA AW BN

APO 527 % Postmaster, N.Y.

Sat. Night, Dec 18, 1943 1930

England

My dearest sweetheart –

It’s the Eve of your graduation and instead of being with you and wishing you luck I'm way off here in England using my imagination. Needless to say darling, I wish you the best fortune and future a girl can have and I not only wish it dear but I’ll devote my life to helping it to materialize. You know Sweetheart that it was futile for me to attempt to send you a Graduation card or gift. I did want you to know though that I did think of it. I hope you got a little note from me anyway. I arranged for that myself a long time ago and I hope it wasn’t forgotten.

I wrote you a short V mail letter earlier today, thinking I might miss the p.m. mail. Right now I’m in my room, alone – and I must tell you of our conveniences. Honestly, to date I’ve fought the war much harder in the United States than I am here. In the first place dear I now share a separate house – yes house – not an ordinary gov’t building – with several other fellows from headquarters. The house would make a group of fraternity boys envious. It has 7 rooms – all separate, two bathrooms with tubs, individual sink, closet, mirrors and chest of drawers in each room and yes, dear – a fireplace in each room – which by the way is typically English. Of course it’s fully electrified. Oh yes – steam heat.

About 200 yards down the road from us and still in the camp proper is an officers’ club that rivals a good sized hotel. It has a main lobby with plush carpets, a large reading room (about the size of your mess-hall at Wilder), with leather chairs, etc., two billiard rooms, dining hall, radios, piano and I don’t know what else. Just behind this building is a small gym with squash and handball courts and there are shower rooms too. I tell you this, darling ,not in an attempt to exaggerate – for it’s the truth. I didn’t believe they had set-ups like this, but I’m actually experiencing it. At the Officers’ Club by the way, they have a movie every night, gratis. One other thing they make available for every officer – a bicycle for his personal use. Now Sweetheart – I have not been drinking. It’s the truth. There’s no reason in the world why anyone should want to leave this spot to go to town for an evening. On Mondays they run Art Classes, Tuesday – Photography, Wednesdays – Open forum, Thursday and Fridays – visiting speakers and Sunday late p.m. – 2 hours of Symphonic recordings with a commentator. Tomorrow they’re playing Beethoven’s 5th.

I hope I’m not boring you, darling – but there’s more. I have the use of a hospital set-up, with laboratory and x-ray equipment, an office for myself and one for my clerk. I can really see and do a great deal of medicine; certainly more than I’ve been able to do since I’ve been in the Army. It’s really an Utopia and I can’t get over it. When I get through writing you, dear, I’m going to write my folks the same. If my mother will only believe it – it may make her feel a little happier. No one says it, but I suppose my mother is taking my absence hard. The Lord knows I try to paint as pretty a picture as possible to them – for her sake. If they sometimes tell you I’m having a good time here – it’s merely because I always write that everything is fine and that I’m enjoying myself. The truth is darling that I’m terribly lonesome for all of you and if I wax enthusiastic as I did above – it’s because I’m searching for an outlet. I don’t intend to find it in anyone else while I’m gone and haven’t. The only satisfaction I can get, therefore, is in something inanimate, as in convenience. I hope I make myself clear, dear.

This past week I’ve thought especially hard about us. It’s probably due to the fact that you’re graduating and I’m wondering what you’re going to do now. I just hope, Sweetheart, that you don’t get too bored or tired of waiting for me. I so want you to be there when I come back and I shudder at any other possibility. Darling I love you so deeply, I’ll never be able to tell you in words. You will just have to see for yourself. I’ll stop now. The boys are starting a Bridge game in a few minutes. The best and truest of luck Sweetheart and you have –

All my love

Greg

21 December, 1943

438^th AAA AW BN

APO 527 % Postmaster, N.Y.

Tuesday, Dec 21, 1943  2030

England

My darling –

Gosh how I miss you tonight and how I missed you today! I miss you all the time, dearest, but you must know what I mean. Every now and then you get it particularly hard; it hurts more, you’re more aware of it, you can’t forget for a moment of the day. Have you felt it, dear? Today and this evening I’ve been that way. No one could have acted as company for me, today, but you, Sweetheart and you just weren’t around. I try these days to push aside the thought of distance between us, dear. I tell myself that you’re near me but that I just can’t see you for one reason or another. It’s only an illusion and doesn’t work too well. Then I re-read your letters and I do feel better – when I realize that you love me and are willing to wait for me. Darling, you just can’t conceive what that thought means to me. Just to know that I’m coming home someday, not to an empty world but to you, dear – gives me so much life and energy to come back, that I pity anyone who is over here and has nothing to look forward to.

I know, sweetheart, that at home people must say that a soldier gets around, sees the world, lives an interesting life and one full of adventure. Let me tell you, dear, that with all the above – life here is just an existence; it is void and empty and not a moment of a day goes by, not an incident occurs – but what you think in terms of home and the girl you love. I don’t mean to imply that it’s the same for everyone. Some of the men and officers apparently are enjoying themselves. I’m speaking for myself. My ties, affection and liaison to you are stronger than they were when I left – if that is possible. In writing to you, darling, and hearing from you – I feel that we are getting closer to each other and I hope that you feel the same way.

I’m glad, darling, that you’re 20 years old. You always made me feel that you were a woman and not a girl, anyway, – but somehow you were still nineteen. The mere change from 19 to 20 somehow makes me feel that we’re closer. I know that sounds silly, but I’m just writing my reactions.

I’m at the hospital now, dear, in the OD’s room. This is my turn for Officer of the Day and I sleep at the hospital tonight. I’m in my room. It’s large, warm, comfortable and convenient. As OD I cover everything that comes in during the day or night. It reminds me of my intern days. So far since returning from the Club I’ve seen a private and a Captain. The former had a cinder in his eye – obtained when he was under his truck checking the exhaust; the latter cut his right thumb while cutting some bologna and trying to drink beer at the same time. I guess that proves that different scales in the Army get different types of casualties.

Earlier this evening I ate at the Club – as usual. Starting with Christmas dinner – we begin to eat at our own battalion officers’ mess. We ought to get turkey on Christmas – although we don’t expect the nuts, fruits etc. Still we won’t complain – because we had K rations for Thanksgiving dinner – and on a train. If I were home, dear – we’d all eat together. We will though. And also on Passover, the New Year – and all such events. It will be fun getting into the car and trekking over to Mattapan or Newton to have dinner with the folks, then saying, “Well, it’s getting late and we have a long ride, so we’d better be going”. So we’ll get in the car again and head for home alone. Can you visualize that, darling? I can and I’m planning on it.

Dear – there’s another call for me to go to the accident room – so I’d better close now. I sometimes say “I love you” somewhere in my letter, don’t I darling? It’s hard to make it sound expressive. When I’m with you I could say it slowly, or softly, or with accentuation. In writing – it’s just “I love you” – but Sweetheart – in my mind and heart – it’s the deepest and sincerest feeling I’ve ever had – and it’s for you only, Wilma – and will always be. Good night for now, darling and take care of yourself.

All my love,

Greg

Fondest regards to your folks.

Love,

G

20 December, 1943

438^th AAA AW BN

APO 527 % Postmaster, N.Y.

Monday, Dec 20, 1943 1430

England

Dearest sweetheart –

I am now at the hospital in my office. The sun is streaming thru the windows behind me – and that, dear, is a rare treat. Since I’ve been in England proper the sun has shone brightly on only 3 days. Stars have been out and visible on 4 or 5 nights. All the rest of the time it’s cloudy, misty, foggy – or a combination of all three.

Anyway – today is clear and it makes me feel better – although I felt especially homesick a couple of hours ago. One of the doctors here at the hospital received orders today returning him to Washington, D.C. – immediately and by the most available route of transportation. He’ll probably fly back. But here’s the catch, darling: he spent 16 months in Iceland and 5 months here – so no one begrudges him his going home. But it makes a fellow awfully wistful, dear – awfully.

When I got back from the club last night, I wrote you, dear – so nothing much has happened since then. After breakfast this a.m. – I spent the morning at the hospital and saw a couple of interesting cases – one fellow with a swollen jaw, exact cause as yet obscure, and another fellow with an interesting knee case.

This afternoon I’ve got an appointment to meet a fellow and play some squash. I’m still stiff all over from a game the other day, but another workout will really limber me up. I’ve been in poor condition from a stamina and wind point of view for some time. Why, darling, I recall I could only kiss you for about 18 minutes before having to take a breath and I know I should do better than that.

A little while ago I got some concentrated sunshine in the form of ultra-violet light. They have a swell machine here and it’s a good opportunity to get a nice tan as well as Vitamin D.

I went into town several days ago, darling, and while moseying about found a book store. One little book caught my eye because of its title, so I bought it. The name: “I Love You, I Love You, I Love You,” by Bemelmans. You can see, darling why I purchased it. It has some delightfully humorous free hand drawings on every other page or so. I haven’t started it as yet – but I will – soon,

2000

Well, sweetheart,

It seems as if I can’t finish a letter I start in one sitting. Several things turn up to interrupt me – and before you know it – it’s time to eat. I stayed to see what the movie would be. It was a German film “Baptism of Fire” – which I saw somewhere in the States over a year ago. It deals with the German invasion of Poland and has German dialogue only. After seeing the start of it, I left for our quarters – where I am now, dear.

I haven’t had any mail from you or the folks for some time now. I guess I ought to hear soon now. I’ll be glad when Christmas is over and we perhaps get a little better mail service. After the war, Sweetheart, I’m going to ask you to write me for awhile, even if we’re living together in Salem – just to get the thrill of receiving a letter the day after it’s written.

I’m going to get ready for bed now, dear, and pleasant thoughts of you. I haven’t had a good dream about you for about 3 nights, now, and I’m going to complain if I don’t have a real good one in the next couple of nights, dearest.

Before saying “good-night”, darling – remember that the author of the book has no corner on the words of his title – so I can also say “I love you, I love you, I love you” – and mean it sincerely. Be well, dear, and take care of yourself. I understand that it’s a bad winter in New England – so don’t get any colds. I feel fine physically, myself, especially with a workout every other day. I’ll soon be in good shape – and as I’ve said before dear – I’m saving myself only for you.

All my love, darling

Greg

* TIDBIT *

about the author of I Love You, I Love You, I Love You

This book, a light collection of the exploits and escapades of a world traveler, was written by Ludwig Bemelmans and published in 1942. Bemelmans moved from Austria to the United States in 1914 at the age of 16. He started out and became successful in the restaurant and hotel business before authoring his first book in 1934. In 1939 he published, Madeline, named for his wife and fashioned after his daughter, Barbara. More Madeline books followed and Bemelmans eventually wrote a total of 15 children's books. In addition, he not only wrote articles and illustrated covers for the New Yorker and other magazines, but also published many books for adults.

Here are scans of the copy of I Love You, I Love You, I Love You that Greg sent to Wilma, including the inside cover with notation, the Title page and the Table of Contents:

CLICK ON IMAGES TO ENLARGE