26 December, 1943 (2nd Letter)

438^th AAA AW BN

APO 527 % Postmaster, N.Y.

Sunday, Dec. 26, 1943 2100

England

Dearest one –

What does a fellow do when he’s in love, feels sentimental, lonely – and his sweetheart is a long long distance away? He sits down and writes to her, because that is all he can do, and he tells her about it. I wrote to you earlier today, darling – and I’ve just returned to my room again. I haven’t stopped thinking about you for a moment – and this is the only way I can show you. The radio is playing and every song or number, new or old, seems to have a particular significance. A little while ago someone sang “I’ll See You Again”. I have always liked the words to that song and now that I’m so far away from you they seem especially poignant.

Dearest – why did a war have to intervene before I met you and once I did, why did I have to leave you? Why must found happiness be measured and limited and will we be better off for it? I hope and pray that the Lord, having tried us, does not find us wanting and never lets us forget to be appreciative of ourselves, our families and our happiness once He allows us again to experience such pleasures. I think about that a great deal, darling, and I wonder how people who haven’t had things difficult for them at the start of life manage when they run into problems later on. I’ve seen such instances, dear, and very often they lead to an unhappy life. We must never let that happen in our case, sweetheart. We’ll have problems; that’s normal, but we should always be able to cope with them and look back to the days when we were apart and had to depend on our imaginations.

I’m not trying to write a sermon, dear. I haven’t been trained to do that. I’m just sitting here alone and putting myself – and therefore you – far ahead into the future. I’m not only putting us into the future, but I’m trying to see into it also. We’re not allowed a true picture – but I see no harm in imagining one. My one goal and ambition, darling, is to put both of us into a happy future and I’m willing to go thru any kind of hell and back so long as at the end of the road I have you. Humans are queer in estimation of their predicaments. I used to be unhappy when I couldn’t get you on the phone without waiting 15 minutes; then I dreaded the thought that perhaps I couldn’t get off on a week-end because we might be on the firing range; now I’m in England worrying because I’m so far away from you – and yet I’m so safe and sound. If I ever go into a more dangerous area – I’ll wonder why I complained so much when I was in England. But I’m not complaining, sweetheart, just longing. Just to be able to talk with you for a few minutes would be so gratifying. I miss you, dear – all the time; when I left Edwards I knew how much I loved you because I was aware of something I had never experienced before. The feeling has never left me – and it isn’t just a question of being lonesome. I’ve studied some of the other fellows around me. Some of them have fiancées; some are married. They are either better actors than I am – or more callous or less in love. I don’t know which, dear, but they never seem to talk as much about home, or their girl friends or wives – as I do about you, sweetheart. If their mail doesn’t get out at a certaintime, they don’t seem to care. I don’t mean to imply by any means that I’m the only one overseas who is in love with someone at home. But I do know this, darling, I am very much in love with you – and all these words add up to that thought. I want you to know it and feel it as if I were near you telling you all the time. Only if I can make you as aware of it as I am, will I feel satisfied.

Dearest – whatever you do, please remember that I love you with all the emotion and understanding that I am capable of, and that I shall continue to feel that way forever, as God is my witness. Goodnight, darling and be well. I’ll write again tomorrow and excuse me for being so serious.

All my love, dear

Greg

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

Route of the Question Mark

Page 19 from The Route of the Question Mark is transcribed below, describing life at Honington. After that is a *TIDBIT* about Honington Air Base.

page 19

Honington Air Base... The planes that used to take off on bombing missions... Our "Winterized" pyramdial tents... Building a home (but with our bare hands) in the wilderness... Our drainage system... The brick latrine... The bathtub... The concrete greasepit... The Officers' Rec Hall, so splendid in all that mud it looked like Aladdin's Cave, sparkling with luxury... Movies in the mess hall... The inexhaustible supply of beer... Honey-buckets... 1st Sgt WATERS departs and T/Sgt KOWALSKI takes over as 1st Sgt... Painting the kitchen weekly with white paint... Building sidewalks... Our Battalion crest, prominently hung near the CP... Audacia Vincit... The furloughs and passes to London... The air-raids that always seemed to take place when we were in that city...

From the cover
"Audacia Vincit"
(Boldness Wins)

Crest of the
Headquarters and Headquarters Battalion
438th Antiaircraft Artillery
Automatic Weapons Battalion  (Mobile)
"438th AAA AW BN"

* TIDBIT *

about Honington, Army Air Force Station 595


B-17's from the 3rd Bomb Division lined up at Honington

American airpower based in England in World War II involved the 8th Air Force, providing strategic airpower with bombers and fighters, and the 9th Air Force, performing tactical ground-attack and support missions. Both organizations required many bases. Honington had been built as a permanent English Royal Air Force (RAF) station and housed transport and bomber squadrons for its first five years. The United States Army Air Force began using Honington in 1942 as the 1st Strategic Air Depot for major aircraft overhauls, later specializing in the B-17 Flying Fortresses. Some badly damaged B-17's would be re-routed straight to Honington on return from action, instead of landing at their home bases.

CLICK ON IMAGES TO ENLARGE



These three photos are from: D. Sheley's Flickr Photostream.
The B-24 crash, above, was at an English airfield like Honington.
The others are P-38 Lightnings that crash-landed at Honington.

The three photos below are also crash-landings at Honington.


Members of the 2017th Engineer Aviation
Fire Fighter Platoon work on a wreck

All original RAF buildings were of yellow brick with excellent facilities. Officers were assigned to one of the many two-story houses. These houses were completely carpeted, with fireplaces in most rooms, both upstairs and down, and with a complete kitchen. American officers moved into the two-story houses. The main building housed the officers' dining room, club and bar, and the lounges.

CLICK ON IMAGES TO ENLARGE

In a remote area of the Air Field, a small American compound was constructed of more or less temporary structures called “Nissen” huts, named after a Canadian engineer who designed them in World War I. Simply made of brick and tin, they were muddy, leaky and cold. They were also cheap, quickly built and versatile. The green-brown Nissen huts, also known as "quonset huts" made homes, recreation spots and offices for thousands of soldiers and airmen. It took more than a thousand people to put 48 single-seat fighters in the air consistently. Honington base was essentially a small town of its own, with maintenance, engineering, weather, firefighting, administration, food service, police, quartermasters, ordnance, medical, photographic, intelligence and many other functions.

CLICK ON IMAGES TO ENLARGE
  

  

Along with the 1st Strategic Air Depot, Honington was home to the 364th Fighter Group.and the First Scouting Force. Although the 364th left in November 1945, Honington remained as HQ for the VIII Air Force Fighter Command until 26 February 1946. In March of 1946, RAF Transport Command moved in and the base became crucial to the Berlin Airlift of 1948 to 1949. RAF Honington is now home to the RAF Regiment.

B-17 at Honington

26 December, 1943

438^th AAA AW BN

APO 527 % Postmaster, N.Y.

Sunday, Dec. 26, 1943 1630

England

My darling –

Sunday afternoon – and how I used to love Sundays this past summer! Ever since that first Sunday when I waited until Sunday morning to make a date with you, our dates became natural for the entire week-end, remember? And they were all so pleasant and real. There was a young American civilian around here the other day, a representative of Boeing, wearing civilian clothes and boy did I wince. But in 19 mos. in the Army, I did manage to get a suit on once, anyway.

There’s a lot of good tweed around here by the way. We’re using British blankets, and any one of them could be used to make a very fine suit. But I’ll stick to Harvard Square, I guess – and when I get my first suit after the war, darling, you come along and see if you like it, because you’ll be seeing me in it all the time and you might as well like what I get. English shoes are available to us thru the Quartermaster – but I don’t need any.

Today was very quiet – and shortly after dinner it became almost intolerable – the rest of the officers had to work – we’re on a 7 day week here – but there wasn’t anything for the medical corps. Finally we managed to get a bridge game going at the Club and I’ve just returned from there. I had never played with my partner before. He was good and we won by about 1700 points. It helped kill a couple of hours, dear.

Last night we had a very nice Turkey dinner with the ‘works’. I’m enclosing a menu and sweetheart we actually had everything printed on it. I could hardly move when I got through. We were supposed to have a game of squash, but by mutual agreement my partner and I agreed to call it off. It was just as well because I was still getting over a game of the day before. In lunging for a low ball at one time, I left my right thigh in one part of the court and the rest of my body traveled over the rest of the court, the net result being that I walked like a kangaroo for about two hours afterward and could hardly get my shoes off. But I heal quickly darling and today I’m fit as a fiddle and twice as agile.

So we sat around and waited for the movie and hurrah – I finally hit one I hadn’t seen before – although it was definitely Class C – “Murder in Times Square” with Edmund Lowe et alia. After the movie – it was back to quarters again and bed.

I hope, dearest, that you don’t mind my repeating almost hour for hour – what I’ve done for a particular day. Honestly, darling, there’s nothing else to write about – and yet I don’t want to bore you. You once said you found my letters interesting and I would like them to remain so – until I can be interesting to you in person.

By the way, dear, are you keeping the little pieces of nothing which we started to collect? I’ve managed to “pick” up a thing or two since which we’ll be able to add to our collection. I’d like to send them to you – but they’re breakable and I guess I’ll hang onto them.

Darling, it would be nice to hear from you soon. I’m reading the print off the letters I already have – and the parts which you say you love me are wearing off. Gosh, I ought to have a lot coming to me very soon. I know that you must now have my APO 515 number because they’re coming through regularly now – and I’m just sitting by and waiting for mine. They say doctors are good waiters. If I ever was wanting in that quality before, I’m certainly getting good practice now dear. If you’re late from Bridge Club – I’ll just sit and wait for you without batting an eyelash. Now it’s hard to get husbands like that.

That’s all for now, Sweetheart, except to remind you I’m very much in love with you and that you’re always in my thoughts – always. Be well, dear, and wait for me. So long, darling, and

All my love

Greg

CLICK ON IMAGE TO ENLARGE

On this Christmas Dinner Menu, 1943,
Greg indicates that "Station AAF 595
Somewhere in England" is Honington.

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.