02 January, 1944

438^th AAA AW BN

APO 527 % Postmaster N.Y.

England

Sunday, January 2, 1944  2100

Dearest sweetheart –

The mail is finally starting to approach something like what it should be, although it is still jumpy and difficult to figure out. Today, darling, I received two letters from you – one a V-mail dated Dec 13th and the other an Airmail dated Dec 20th. That would certainly make it look as if Airmail were preferable – but it’s not constant. At any rate, dear, I was tickled at hearing from you and to know that my letters were finally reaching you.

In that connection – I wonder whether you got the letters I mailed to Wilder. Some of them no doubt arrived after you left school, and I hope you arranged to have your mail forwarded to your home. Incidentally, in reference to your question about your mail being censored, to the best of my knowledge, it is not. By that I mean – no one I know or heard of has ever received a letter from the States that has been opened. They do censor outgoing mail – but as we understand it – only from civilian to civilian.

One other thing, darling. In reference to receiving your mail, I’ve mentioned this before – the sequence may be all fouled up but every letter eventually gets to its destination, and if you see a change in APO numbers, don’t mind, dear – the change is taken care of at the base post office and all the old APO numbers are canceled.

I have not yet received your picture, sweetheart, and you can well imagine that I’m anxiously awaiting it. I can see it before me now, that is, I can visualize it – but I’d rather actually see it. It ought to arrive soon.

The gap in your mail, as it now exists, is that I lack the letters from the 7th to the 13th (Dec). I have the one of the 13th, am missing the 14th to the 19th and the very latest, dear, is the one of the 20th. In that one you don’t mention any of my letters, but I’m sure you must have received some after the V-mail of the 13th – even though they had to be forwarded.

On the 20th, darling, you were in bed with a cold, and it would have been nice taking care of you. By your statements – I gathered that your mother and grandmother were ill at the time of graduation and you’ll probably explain in your previous letters. I assume it was the “flu” and I can imagine how disappointed all of you were that your immediate family couldn’t attend your graduation. But you can’t fool around with the flu and you all showed good judgment.

By the way, darling, did you get my card to you from Carey’s on your graduation day, or the day before? I took care of that by telegram and I wonder if they got it straight.

I received one letter from Stan and have written him 2 or 3 V-mails. He wrote that he had seen you once and that you “mentioned” me quite a lot. That’s the spirit, darling! He tells me he thinks you’ll wait for me and that I’ll have a swell girl to marry. As if I didn’t know. He also stated that he was seeing Shirley about 3 times a week and that things are about the same. I wonder how things really are with them. As you know, despite some faults – and we all have them – I like Stan a heluva lot and I would like to see him happily married. He’s had a tough go of it and deserves some happiness. I hope he gets it.

As for you and me, sweetheart, I know we were meant for each other, and with every letter, both written and received, I am more sure of it. The fact that you re-iterate your love for me, the fact that a month or more after I last saw you, you still keep me foremost in your mind – is convincing me that you really will wait darling; not that I doubted your statements, but time is a peculiar thing and can cause strange reactions. Needless to say, dear, I’m pleased beyond words that you impress your folks with your love for me. Regardless of how skeptical they may have been in the beginning, they are bound to be impressed after a time.

I marvel at both of us at what we accomplished in relatively so short a time – and when you think of it, you can’t blame parents who are admittedly so fond of you – for not jumping at conclusions. I think you know, Sweetheart, that I like your folks very very much and I know I will love them as I do mine – and that’s a great deal. What I want to do is to have them love me as a son – and if I make you happy, they will. Making you happy, darling, will be a wonderful thing, and I know a hundred different ways of doing it too. I know that it’s easy to brag, dear, but I love you so much that I know I will devote myself to you and your happiness. You know me fairly well, Sweetheart, but you don’t know a lot about me. I can tell you this, though, – that my inherent nature is such that I love a home and what it stands for. I love to be in that home – with those I love and the outside world is entirely secondary. I never was one for much running around alone and you can be sure of this, wherever I go, you go. I think you’ll find I don’t drink very much or gamble and as for other women, darling – I’m a one woman man. A lot of promises I know – but I’m like my father in many respects – and he was always like that and I’ve admired him for it. It will always be – the Alexanders were here or there, not Dr. Alexander and that, darling, is the way it should be.

A lot of things about married life we never got to discuss – and that’s why I’m mentioning some of them now. We must not let the lapse of time catch us napping, darling. We must continue to get to know each other and each other’s ideas – so that when the day comes – the most natural thing in the world will be for us to become engaged and married without delay. Agreed?

Sweetheart, that’s all for this sitting. By the way – I’m at the hospital again – O.D. for the day and nite. Send my best regards to your family and Grandmothers, Phil, Bea, J and J – and I trust all are now well. And you can tell your folks, without doubt, that I was and am very much in love with you and that it was not just a summer Romance. Goodnite, Sweetheart – and

All my love

Greg

P.S. I like any kind of bed!

L,

G.

01 January, 1944

438^th AAA AW BN

APO 527 % Postmaster N.Y.

England

Saturday, January 1, 1944 1500

Wilma darling –

Here it is another year started and I’m not around to start it with you dear. Whenever I next see you again will be the real start of the year for me, I know.

I wrote you about how I celebrated New Year’s Eve last night. I guess it was the sanest, safest, soberest New Year’s I’ve spent since I was eleven years old. We broke up the “party” at 0030 or thereabouts and went to bed. We didn’t have to get up until 0800 as this is celebrated as a Holiday for American Soldiers. I don’t know if I mentioned it to you before, but the English people proper have no celebration that amounts to anything for New Year’s Eve – while in Scotland it’s practically a National Holiday.

After breakfast this a.m. I went to the hospital and saw a few cases, checked in at the Officers’ Club to pay my mess bill and Club dues and then came back here.

CLICK ON IMAGE TO ENLARGE

Officers' Mess Bill - AAF Station 595
December, 1943

We have just started our own Officers’ Mess in a separate area that we have for ourselves. There are 10 of us in our headquarters section and we have a building just for ourselves. At one end of it we have comfortable stuffed chairs, tables, places to write and a radio. I’m in that part of the room now. It’s quite comfortable, dear, and warm. But there’s nothing here for lonesomeness – except what I’m doing now – writing.

We ate at 1300 and had an enormous turkey – done beautifully, with cranberry sauce, potatoes, peas, candied parsnips, turnips, giblet gravy and pudding; coffee or tea, of course. Before dinner the Colonel opened a bottle of Canadian Club Whiskey and we all had a drink. It was really very nice.

This place is going to be very comfortable and I think we’ll end up using our own Club as much as the Regular Club. The rest of the day will be quietly spent. There’ll probably be a bridge game later and so another day, sweetheart.

I’m finally planning to go to London this Monday with Pete (who sends his regards, darling) and probably one other officer. We are allowed a 48 hour pass every now and then and we’re taking ours. One of our officers is there for the week-end and is going to try and reserve a room or two for us at some Hotel. Talk about your luck, by the way. The officer I just mentioned is married to a nurse who is in the Army. She was with a General Hospital and they came to England several months ago. When he arrived here he found out where she was. She’s only about an hour’s ride from us and he’s spending his pass with her in London. He hasn’t seen her for about 6 months. I wonder if they’ll see any of the sights. I’d love to spend 48 hours with you, darling – in London or anywhere else for that matter – but why don’t I stop dreaming?

I’ve got to run along now, sweetheart, to see a sick soldier in one of our batteries. One of my men has just come in and told me about him; it sounds as if I’ll have to send him to the hospital. Meanwhile, darling I love your patience and good hopes which you show in your letters. It’s a wonderful reaction to be able to read your letters and find that you’re not discouraged and still care for me. It helps tremendously, darling, and I love you for it. In this next year – I hope you keep it up and don’t get tired. Be well, dearest, and my love for you is returned in full measure. I’ll write tomorrow, dear. Until then – you have

All my love

Greg.

P.S. I usually forget to send my regards to some of your relatives that I’ve met. It’s not because I don’t think of them, dear. Please send my regards to all of them that I know.

L,

Greg.

31 December, 1943

438^th AAA AW BN

APO 527 % Postmaster, N.Y.

Thursday, Dec 31, 1943 2335

England

Dearest darling –

In a letter of yours which was written December 2, you end up in a dead heat as to whether or not it would have been wise to be engaged. As I look at it now, dear, I too sometimes wish I hadn’t been so sensible – and yet if I had tried to rush things, dear, your folks wouldn’t have liked it too much and would undoubtedly have thought less of me. I left nothing tangible to you, sweetheart, as a token of an engagement – and yet I consider myself engaged to you. All that is needed is a consummation of it the moment I return. I don’t want you to feel that you just know me very well, or are attached to me – or anything else like that, darling. You have me like no one you’ve ever had before and that’s the way I want it to be.

I got another letter from my father today, an earlier one than the one I mentioned yesterday. In it he mentioned that when my cablegram arrived at your house, your mother called to tell my folks. That was an awfully thoughtful and sweet gesture, sweetheart, and will you please thank your mother for it?

Last night we went to the club and saw “Mrs. Miniver” which I had missed in the States. It was really a well done movie and I’m glad I saw it. A few of the boys had seen it before and they said that somehow it seemed to ring more true – now that they were in England and had seen and met some of its people. Certain it is that I was really impressed with it, and it isn’t hard to look anywhere and not find evidence of all the hell these people took 3 or so years ago.

Today I had to run around a bit and finally ended up getting the month’s pay for the men. This evening I was blue, darling; the evening dragged, everyone felt just a trifle down. Three of us decided to go to the neighboring town. So we did, dear. We left at 2015 and returned at 2230 – which gives you an idea of what a night it was. We walked the streets looking for a place to get a drink. These towns are so damned dark – you just can’t find your way around. We never did find a pub. Everything was closed – so we got into the truck and came back. At our own Officers’ mess we have beer and I’m in the mess hall or 438th Officers’ Club now. There are 8 of us here – some playing cards, others writing. In 4 minutes, darling (Mido time) it is going to be 1944 and we’re going to get up and drink a toast – but right before that, my sweetheart – I want to wish you a Happy New Year, one which will bring you what you want in life and one which will bring us together, safe and sound and with our families to share in our happiness. I wish all this with everything that is in my power to wish, sweetheart. It is now exactly midnight, dearest, and in my mind and heart I am now holding you tightly and kissing you. --------------------------- We have just stood up, toasted each other, sipped some beer and sung Auld Lang Syne. Big Ben is beating out its chimes on the radio – and darling I miss you more than I can possibly describe to you at this moment. I feel cheated at not being with you now – but still – last year, sweetheart – I didn’t know you – and so last year when I wished for a Happy New Year – God was kind, He gave me you ----------------------

I’ll close darling – in the early minutes of 1944. I’ll be going to bed soon – with thoughts of you. I’ll write tomorrow – and until then – Good luck, dear, Happy New Year – and

All my love

Greg

P.S. The wishes are for your folks, too.

Love, G.

* TIDBIT *

about "Mrs. Miniver"


The trailer

Some Background "Mrs. Miniver" was produced by MGM and directed by William Wyler in 1942. The winner of 6 Academy awards, "Mrs. Miniver" was a war-time propaganda tear-jerker that Winston Churchill declared more influential in getting America involved in WWII than a fleet of destroyers. Director William Wyler, born in Germany, strongly believed that the US should enter the war and acknowledged that his concern about American isolationism was a primary motive for making the film. There was not a single battle scene in this war film, yet through its portrayal of the hardships suffered and overcome by a middle-class English family during the Blitz, Americans came to sympathize with what their British equivalents were undergoing at the time. Support for American involvement in the European war rose dramatically. When the movie was completed, Wyler joined the US Army. He was posted to the Signal Corps and was overseas on the night he won his first Oscar.

Short Summary This story of an English middle class family during the early years of World War II is about Clem Miniver, (Walter Pigdeon), a successful architect, and his beautiful wife Kay, (Greer Garson), who is the glue that holds the family together. Kay is busy with two young children at home in a quaint English village. She is well-liked by all she meets, even having had a new rose named after her by the station master. When their son, Vin, comes home from Oxford for the summer he falls quickly for the upper-class Carol Beldon (Theresa Wright), granddaughter of Lady Beldon (Dame May Whitty). In September of 1939, England is forced to declare war on Germany, shattering their idyllic life. Vin joins the RAF and everyone has to put up with the hardship of war including blackouts and air raids. Mrs. Miniver deals with a downed German pilot, (Richard Ney), who makes his way to her home while Clem is helping to evacuate the trapped British Expeditionary Force from Dunkirk. Vin and Carol get married in spite of differences in social strata, but their time together is to be short. Throughout it all, everyone displays strength of character in the face of tragedy and destruction.

Major Plot Factual Error In the movie, Mrs. Miniver finds a downed German pilot in her garden while her husband is away helping to evacuate British soldiers at Dunkirk. In fact, the action at Dunkirk occurred in late May and early June, 1940. The Germans did not begin flying bombing raids over Britain until July, 1940, so no German pilot could possibly have been shot down over England at the time of the Dunkirk operation.

Rousing Speech This clip of the speech made by the vicar, (Henry Wilcoxin), was worked and re-worked by the director and actor well into the night before the shooting, so they could impart as much impact as possible. The result was believed to be so inspiring that it was subsequently translated into various languages and air-dropped into German-occupied territory. By request of US President Franklin Delano Roosevelt, the speech was broadcast over the Voice of America. It was also reprinted in both "Time" and "Look" magazines.

30 December, 1943

438^th AAA AW BN

APO 527 % Postmaster, N.Y.

Thursday, Dec 30, 1943 1830

England

Dearest sweetheart –

Great day in the morning! Today – a little while ago as a matter of fact I hit the jackpot with 5 letters from you, dear, one from my brother, one from my father, two from my nephew – and a $6.00 check from an insurance company. Boy oh boy! Talk about your pick ups – that certainly made a new man out of me. Your latest one was dated Dec. 6th and you’re still way behind my father’s letter which was dated December 20th! That is very unusual – even for air-mail. I read that one first dear in which my father told me you were going to be at our house the following week – I hope you made it dear and had a good time.

My nephew wrote me two cute letters and informed me that he and Barbara prayed for me every night.

I’ve been writing my folks V-mail because I usually write only a few lines to tell them everything is O.K. My brother seems to think that Airmail would come quicker. From what I can gather, darling, it’s hard to say. Sometimes an Airmail letter gets on a plane and the service is good; other times it goes by boat and becomes airmail only in the States. Even V-mail doesn’t always get flown over. All we can do, Sweetheart, is write and hope for the best service. I’m sure that by now, dear, you must be hearing from me – and I’m sorry you were worried. It must have been much worse for you, darling, and in that connection I know what you must have meant when you wrote in an earlier letter that you hadn’t wanted to get involved with anyone during the war. That, sweetheart – is a hard thing to control, isn’t it?

You answered a question in your letter post-marked Dec. 1 – that I didn’t want to ask you – namely your plans about New Year’s Eve. You know what I wished you would do – but I had no right to ask that of you, I know. When you wrote that you were going to a “hen” party and tabulated the score – I laughed and was very pleased. But in what class did you put yourself, darling?

I understand from my father’s letter that Mrs. T. and Barbara were over my house one Sunday. I think it was swell of them to drop over and see my folks. I’m sorry you never quite got to meet them – but I’m sure when you do you’ll like them, dear. I also got a Christmas card from Virginia L. You remember she was the girl we did meet when we dropped into my former office?

I can think of nothing better, Sweetheart, than to spend evenings together with you, listening to the radio, talking, kissing and – well you know. I think of it so often and live it in mind so much that I know it will come true. It can’t miss. It’s surprising how sure I feel about you and me. After all – we have known other people for longer periods of time; I have, I know, but believe me, darling, I never felt about anyone the way I do about you. We just got along so well, had so many things in common, and so many other things that go to make compatibility in married life.

I’m sorry I can’t emulate your short-hand style, but better watch out, sweetheart, or I’ll have you taking dictation when I first get started. I shall insist on having you sit on my lap – or vice versa, of course!

At any rate, dearest, I love you too, anyway you look at it and always keep in mind that I’m thinking of you all the time I’m away from you. Good night for now, Sweetheart and you have

All my love,

Greg

29 December, 1943

438^th AAA AW BN

APO 527 % Postmaster, N.Y.

Wednesday, Dec 29, 1943 2105

England

My dearest sweetheart –

I have just left the Club, having walked out of the picture that was being shown. I had seen it a long time ago.

Today I had the pleasure, darling, of reading the letter you wrote me on November 29, exactly one month ago and I notice, dear, that you too were beginning to start you letters with “Still no word from you!” I know just how you were feeling and I hope your next several letters show you managed to keep your spirits up. I know when you got my cablegram and I believe that by the 14th-15th of December you first got some of my letters. From then on dear I think you must have received a good many of my letters.

You too notice the songs on the radio – I see. Some of them really hit home, don’t they dear? Yes I’ve heard “It Must Be Real” and I like it. One they play a great deal here is Noel Coward’s “I’ll See You Again” which I believe I mentioned the other day. The words are very nice and particularly the part that says “time may hang heavy in dreams, but what has been is past forgetting etc.” I like that a great deal, darling.

I dream too of being married to you and living in Salem. I have never dreamed about your cooking, though, dear – and so I can’t tell you how I like it – although I have no doubt I will. In my dreams we fit into Salem very well together and we’re very happy. I don’t seem to dream about where we’re living, darling and all in all I’m afraid I’m not a very practical dreamer. Are you sure sweetheart that the one room you dreamed about wasn’t the bedroom?

Today – and for the first time in a long spell I heard from my brother. It was a nice long letter and was very welcome. Incidentally the post-mark was the 13th of December – so I can’t understand why your letters come so much slower. The latest letter from you is post-marked Nov. 30, written the 29th.

Lawrence told me he had received my cablegram and implied you had too. He said you were planning to go over to my house and I do hope you did by now dear, several times. I want you to know my family well, sweetheart – so we can all be on equal terms, because I’m going to get to know you and love you more and more – despite the damned war.

I also learned my car was sold for $835. Which I suppose isn’t bad considering my father took my tires, and considering it needed some fixing. I felt kind of funny reading that it was no longer mine. It was a lucky car for me in many ways dear and certainly got me started on the right road – up to and including meeting you, dear. But we now have $835. more in the bank. Before I left I told my father to deposit whatever money he got for the car in a separate account. After the war that ought to make a good start for another car, darling; only this time you’ll go with me when I buy it – so you can express your wishes too; all right?

Lawrence and I have always been close, dear, but I’ve never been able to actually find out why he won’t go out and be more social. You did write me back in the States that you had heard he was going to a dance. I was amazed. He intimated in his letter that he was changing a little, but not very much. I wish he would a lot, because he leads a rather lonely life and it makes my parents sad. I don’t know just what it is dear – and I suppose he wouldn’t like the idea of my discussing it but I feel so close to you and consider you a member of the family anyway. If on occasion, Sweetheart, when you might have an opportunity to talk with him alone – maybe you can in an offhand sort of way get his ideas. Nothing would please me better than to hear that he’s going out with some nice girls and enjoying himself.

My folks would be tickled, and yet it’s not the sort of subject you can just bring up in front of everybody. Let me know what you think, will you dear?


Darling you are very sweet and lovable when you write me that you love me and that you will be waiting for me when I come back. You can’t really imagine what it is to read that in your letters, and all I can say sweetheart is that I love you very much and that you’ve made me truly and realistically happier than I’ve been ever before. Yes dear, that’s true and for it in return you will always have my deepest and greatest

Love

Greg

Sincerest regards to your folks

G.

* TIDBIT *

about "I'll See You Again"

Here's a rendition of "I'll See You Again" composed by Noel Coward and performed by Lily Pons as it was recorded live in 1943 and played on Armed Forces Radio around the time that Greg was listening. The lyrics follow, and may be helpful to read as you listen to Lily sing.

"I'll See you Again" composed by Noel Coward

LYRICS

I'll see you again
When ever spring breaks through again
Time may lie heavy---between
But what has been is past forgetting
This sweet memory
Across the years will come to me
Though my world may go awry
In my heart will ever lie
Just an echo of a sigh
Goodbye

All my life I shall remember knowing you
All the pleasure I have found in showing you
The different ways that one may phrase
The changing light and changing shade
Happiness that must die
Melodies that must fly
Memories that must fade
Dusty and forgotten by and by

I'll see you again
When ever spring breaks through again
Time may lie heavy---between
But what has been is past forgetting
This sweet memory
Across the years will come to me
Though my world may go awry
In my heart will ever lie
Just an echo of a sigh

Goodbye

28 December, 1943

438^th AAA AW BN

APO 527 % Postmaster, N.Y.

Tuesday, Dec. 28, 1943  1500

England

Dearest Wilma –

Is it all right for you to write me freely, frank and revealingly? I’ll say it is! That’s the way I write and I therefore enjoy it in you. I’m referring to the 2nd of 3 letters I received from you two days ago. I read this one today. It was dated Nov. 28 and you said you were a little blue and didn’t have much to write.

And yet I enjoyed that letter as much as any you’ve written me, for it’s frankness and sincerity. You promised to tell me in the letter of the next day why you believed you loved me. Whatever the reason, darling, I’m very happy over it. As for your being fickle, dear – you never were with me. Whenever I referred to your age, sweetheart, it was not because you seemed young to me at all. I believe we got along wonderfully well from point of view of age. It was merely that I couldn’t help but think that after all your chronological age was about 20, and how was a girl that age qualified to say whether or not she really loved a man and wanted to marry him? I know, darling, that that is happening all the time all around us – but that doesn’t necessarily guarantee it – the mere fact that it is being done. Just as often as not it ends unhappily, and that too is seen all around us, with the young husband chasing around and getting mature with other women, and the young wife unhappy or not caring. I’ve seen such cases – and maybe it’s because I wanted to be sure, that I waited so long, myself. I wanted to be certain I was stable and could take care of a wife – before I married, and I wanted to be sure I was loved by the one I loved. Your age worried me, a little dear – when I first realized I was enjoying your company so much and later when I knew how much I cared. You can make me no happier than when you write as you do that despite my being away you feel you love me even stronger because that shows maturity. I love to have you say we ought not have any secrets from one another and that you can write things to me with the assurance that I’ll understand. When you write like that, I know you hold me closer to yourself than anyone but your folks – and Sweetheart, that’s the way I feel about you. The question of secrets etc. – has never entered my mind – in relationship to you. When I think of you and myself – it is always as one person. When I write to you – I write my thoughts, ideas, activities everything just as I experience them. Anything else would lead to suspiciousness, distrust and loss of love.

It’s strange, dearest, that what you wrote on the 29th of November – is so very close to what I wrote somewhere around the same date – as you’ve probably found by now. I can’t help feeling that when I write you, dear, you’re somewhere listening to me. It helps me tremendously to feel like that and I hope you can use your imagination or telepathic powers to the same extent.

I love the way you asked me whether or not I was writing whenever I got the chance. You probably have the answer by now, sweetheart. I’m sure the mail-man has the answer, anyway. I’m so anxious to get my first letter from you telling me you’ve heard from me. Frankly I can hardly remember what I wrote because I put it mildly when I say life was a whirl on the boat, as were the first several days after landing. It was all so strange and we were all so keyed up emotionally. I’m sure I must have repeated many many times that I loved you – because I recall writing you that from the 1st or 2nd day out. I wonder if you got the letter or letters written on the boat. I probably wrote a lot that wasn’t allowed and it’s possible they never let it go through. Anyway, I started writing then dear and I shall continue – as you shall see, darling. Your own letters have come thru, and from the dates I can gather that none were lost, dear.

Again, sweetheart, thanks for a very lifting letter which has left me very happy. Don’t change your mind about me darling and I’ll stay happy. For now –

All my love

Greg.

27 December, 1943

438^th AAA AW BN

APO 527 % Postmaster, N.Y.

Monday, Dec. 27, 1943 2100

England

Dearest sweetheart –

One of the things that makes me happy when I think of you is the fact that I have your love. And when I read your letters, you tell me that and the lift you give me is tremendous. This morning, my darling, I received three letters from you and if you’ve waited the way I have, you’ll know what a feeling that creates. I looked them over carefully from the outside, showed them to everyone around me, noted the post-mark for the date and then proceeded to open one of them. Two were stamped Nov. 29 and the other Nov. 30. I wanted to read the earlier of the two dated the 29th – so I opened each carefully took a quick look and found one was written on the 27th, the other the 28th. I put the latter aside and must I say I read your letter, slowly, carefully, happily? The other 2 letters I put into my pocket. I don’t know where I get the power of restraint but I shall read one tomorrow and the other the day after. Don’t think it strange, darling. I just feel so horribly blue when the days go by and I don’t get a letter – that this is less painful. In the morning I’ll give my driver, Corp. S., the ‘letter of the day’. I’ll tell him to wait for 30 minutes to an hour, then knock on the door of my office and say “Capt. A., I have a letter for you!” Do you think I’m crazy, dear? Yes or no – that’s what I do and that day becomes for me a full one, sweetheart. Perhaps you can understand now why I have the will-power to wait. Regardless of what Monday, Tuesday or Wednesday have to offer – for me they are already assuredly complete.

In that connection, darling, you are the sweet girl I know you are to write me so constantly. Perhaps I don’t thank you for it dear – but when the time comes, and I’m in a position to – I will never let a day go by without remembering to be thoughtful to you too – sweetheart. It won’t be a re-pay, it will be delightful to do, anyway.

Your mention of the Roger Smith brings fond memories to me too, dear. I have in my folder a post-card which I took from the hotel that week-end and I look at it often – and do I feel frustrated! It must be worse for you because there are so many couples around where you are. That’s one thing I’m spared. For example the only time I saw a female in the past 10 days was when I went to a neighboring town a few miles from here to try to get some Christmas decorations. Don’t get me wrong, dear. I don’t miss them. It’s only you I miss and if I can’t be with you, I don’t care if I don’t see a couple or a female until I get back to see you.

I enjoyed your clipping from the New Yorker. It was quite apropos and I could see us ordering our drinks and hearing myself say “must be dry or will be returned”. They tell me it may be possible to get a martini in London and if I get around to going there – I’ll have four in a row.

CLICK ON IMAGE TO ENLARGE

I saw ‘Claudia’ when I was at Edwards and enjoyed it very much, including the sentimental parts, too. There were a couple of parts when the dialogue had a very significant meaning and I think that’s probably the part that you liked too.

From one of the other Officers who received mail today also, I learned that his family had received his cablegram on the 7th of December. I was delayed a day, as was he, and we didn’t send ours out until the day after Thanksgiving – so you can see it took about 11 days – which isn’t remarkably speedy. However I’m glad you heard from me, anyway, and I know you must be hearing from me now – if not regularly, at least spasmodically. I haven’t heard from my family since the letter I received with your first batch – but I ought to hear soon. I’ve written them, dear, just as constantly as I have you.

I am eagerly awaiting the receipt of your picture darling. I had a glimpse of the proofs – you remember – and I liked the one you picked – very much. I shall not keep it in my wallet, however – but somewhere where I can see it all the time. Meanwhile, darling, I suppose I ought to stop writing and go to bed. I’m at the hospital now – O.D. and sleeping here. We’re on every sixth night.

In your letter you say that you wished we had spoken to your folks “at this point”. I don’t exactly get the significance of “at this point” – but I too wish I had spoken to your folks. However – if they don’t know how I feel about you – it’s not because I haven’t tried to show them, darling. I think they do, as a matter of fact. I love you, want to marry you – and shall so inform them when I ask their permission. I used to be a good salesman, darling, and I know I can convince them that I can make you a decent husband, provide for you and keep you happy. I believe that will satisfy them, don’t you, dear?

I’ll stop now – but again thanks, darling, for your letters which I love, and keep your spirits up because this war just can’t go on too long, you’ll see. Good night, for now – and you have

All my love

Greg

* TIDBIT *

about George Grosz

Here's the back of that comic from The New Yorker, with part of an interesting discussion about the artist and caricaturist, George Grosz. There follows one of his caricatures:

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For more of George Grosz's art, visit "George Grosz - The Hanging Judge of Art" on the website called Animation Resources.