04 February, 1944

438^th AAA AW BN

APO 527 % Postmaster, N.Y.

England

4 February, 1944     1300

My dearest sweetheart -

This morning I was a little bit tired – for the first time in a very long while. The reason is that I didn’t get very much sleep – due to various factors that I can’t write you about, darling. At any rate, all is well and I’ll catch up on my sleep tonight, no doubt.

I got some mail this forenoon – and it included 1 letter from you, dear, dated from Jan. 3, written January 1st; also a letter from my brother-in-law, 1 from my brother, and 1 from Verna Fine. All were from the first part of January and why they could just be getting here now is beyond me. But they’re welcome, nevertheless – particularly yours dear – because that helps to fill out one of my few remaining open spots. I never have written a diary – but my letters must read like one, and yours too, sweetheart. In today’s letter you tell me that you received 15 letters in one week, dear, and that you were satisfied with the mail. I’m awfully glad darling – and I hope that the mail continues to be satisfactory. It could be worse, no doubt.

I was surprised to read what you said about Irv and Verna – namely that they were not aware that we were serious. I distinctly remember telling Irv how I felt about you and what I hoped to do when I came back. I can’t imagine why he wasn’t impressed unless Stan may have told him otherwise. In that connection – I wonder if Stan still leaves the impression with you that the Shirley affair is nothing very serious. At any rate – Verna’s letter intimated that she understood about us, dear, and she was very complimentary too, darling, which I liked. I want everybody to like you, dear, and apparently everyone does. She writes that you looked very lovely – and for me to hurry back and marry you before some one stole you from me – implying of course – that you were very attractive. As if I don’t know that already, darling! I know darn well your qualities, dear, and that’s why I love you so much. I shall write Irv and Verna in a day or two and tell them just that. Verna’s being so profuse in her praise – is something too, because she is usually quite unlike that; all of which makes me even more proud of you than ever.

She also mentions Stan and Shirley and states that Stan is worried because nothing was approaching a climax in his affair. That jibes with what he always implied to me.

My brother-in-law’s letter also told me how nice he thought you were and that I most certainly ought to hold on to you. You see, darling, you’re winning everybody over.

About news from here, dearest, there isn’t a heck of a lot. My brother – whose letter was also old – mentions your calling my mother and reading parts of my letters to her – which is certainly a sweet and thoughtful gesture on your part. You are a thoughtful girl, though, in many many ways, Wilma dear, and I sometimes wonder if I am appreciative enough and thoughtful enough to match you. For if there’s on thing I’ve vowed to do – it is to make you happy – and thoughtfulness helps in that respect. I think I am and will be.

Listening to the radio last night – some German station (Bremen) played an old recording “I Think of You with Every Breath I Take”. Remember it, dear? I think the title holds for me; what struck me was some of the words – like “when I sleep, my heart’s awake”. That’s an interesting statement and whoever wrote the words must have been in love – because when you stop and think of it – you can see what it means. The last thought before falling asleep and the first on awakening is of you – and even though asleep, the heart – or actually the mind – must still go on thinking of you, darling. That’s good, too, because otherwise I’d be wasting several good hours each 24 hour period. Now – I’m not crazy, dear; I’m merely completely absorbed in you and I won’t rest easy until I can tell you about it for the rest of your natural days.

And I’m glad you think I’m different from the “cold, matter-of-fact” fellow you met in July. I guess I was at that, too, darling – but you certainly helped me change and I’ve never been so happy.

Well, so much for now, Sweetheart. Hope to hear from you again tomorrow – and I do love to get mail from you! So long, dear, and best regards to the family.

All my love for now –

Greg.

P.S. I love you.

G.

* TIDBIT *

about With Every Breath I Take

With Every Breath I Take was composed by Ralph Rainger, who was born in 1901 and died in a plane crash in 1942. He began collaborating with the lyricist Leo Robin (1900-1984) in 1930. Robin and Rainger's most famous collaboration may have been Bob Hope's theme song, Thanks for the Memories. After Rainger's tragically early death, Robin continued to write lyrics, including Diamonds are a Girl's Best Friend for the Broadway hit "Gentlemen Prefer Blondes". Here is a version of With Every Breath I Take, recorded by Frank Sinatra in 1957, 23 years after it was written and 13 after Greg heard it on his radio in 1944. The lyrics are shown below the video.

With Every Breath I Take
Music by Ralph Rainger, Words by Leo Robin

I think of you with every breath I take,
And every breath becomes a sigh.
Not a sigh of despair
But a sign that I care for you.

I hear your name with every breath I take,
On every breeze that wanders by.
And your name is a song
I'll remember the long years through.

Even though I walk alone you guide me,
In the darkness you light my way.
And all the while inside me,
Love seems to say, "some day, some day".

And when I sleep you keep my heart awake,
But when I wake from dreams divine,
Every breath that I take,
is a prayer that I'll make you mine.

"Some day, some day,"

And when I sleep you keep my heart awake,
And when I wake from dreams divine,
Every breath that I take,
is a prayer that I'll make you mine.

03 February, 1944

438^th AAA AW BN

APO 527 % Postmaster, N.Y.

England

3 February, 1944 1125

Darling Wilma -

Today is 19 months in the Army for me and I certainly hope and feel that by far – my longest stay in the Army is behind me. As I once wrote you, dear, I can’t seem to realize that I’ve been away from Salem for so long. I guess I’ve thought about my days there so much, that when I return I’ll be able to pick up the routine without any trouble at all. And in addition, darling, I’ll have you – as an added feature! Sounds like a prize, dear, doesn’t it? Well – in a way it is – and I consider myself very lucky to win you Sweetheart.

Again I’m trying to get my letter started to you before lunch – because I expect to be busy this afternoon. I haven’t heard from you for a few days now, dear, but I expect I will soon. I’m a little bit accustomed to waiting now – and your picture has helped immensely. When I get the least bit blue, I look up at you and there you are looking back at me – it’s almost as if you were in the same room with me in person. I know, dear – but a fellow has to use his imagination a little, doesn’t he?

Wallet-size photo of Wilma

Yesterday, late p.m. I had to go to the Red Cross Hq. in the nearest town – on business. Jim Copleston came along – and we then looked for a place to eat. Although it was or is a pretty good sized town, we couldn’t get anything to eat – so we went back to the Red Cross and ate there. While there I learned that R.C. had several golf bags and golf balls available for anyone who wants to use them – and also – that there was an 18 hole golf course not far away. I don’t know if I’ll get a chance to play or not – but if we stay around here – the weather will soon be very good for it. Gotta go now – darling – will start later –

1800

Dearest –

A couple of inspectors were down this p.m. and I haven’t been able to get back until now. About the Red Cross: the son of the director, a Corporal Armstrong, was visiting his Dad. The boy is on transport duty and travels between the States and here; when he gets to England – he always gets a chance to visit his father. Well – darling – I asked him to call you up and say ‘hello’ the next time he hits Boston. I gave him your phone number and also my folks’ number and I hope he doesn’t forget. Incidentally – I asked him to swap jobs with me – but he said ‘no’.

After we ate, dear, there was nothing to do. I’m not fond of going to pubs – they’re just ordinary drinking places. We found that there was a vaudeville show at a place called the Hippodrome. Having seen the two movies in town: “Dodge City” with Errol Flynn, and “Claudia” – we decided upon the vaudeville – knowing well that at best it would be corny. It was. But it was diverting, nevertheless. The chorus consisted of 8 girls, there were the usual comedians, one comedienne – and some slapstick stuff. It lasted from 2000 to 2200 and then we came back to camp. The whole evening cost 3 shillings – so I didn’t go very wrong, dear.

This evening is very quiet here. There’s only one other fellow around. When I finish writing you, dear. I’ll read awhile and then go to bed. Right now my radio is playing some very soft music and I feel miles and miles away from here right now.

I didn’t hear from you today – as I mentioned above – and I’m still anxious to find out more about your job. I hope it isn’t too taxing, darling, and is not tiring you out. You’ve got to be nice and fresh when I get back now – don’t forget.

I’ll close now, Sweetheart, since there’s nothing more right now to write you. I love you, dear – love you and want you. Are you remembering that at all times? I hope it gives you the lift that your loving me gives to me. So long for now – darling – and for the time being –

All my Love

Greg.

* TIDBIT *

about The Hippodrome

CLICK ON IMAGES TO ENLARGE

The Hippodrome as it was at 46 St. Nicholas Street, Ipswich, Suffolk, UK © Copyright Heritage-Images


Postcard of The Hippodrome

The Hippodrome, built by architect Frank Matcham in the Art Nouveau style, had 1100 seats. According to Ken Roe at Cinema Treasures, The Hippodrome Theatre was opened on the 25th of October, 1905. Patrons were seated in orchestra stalls and a single balcony. There were no boxes. The proscenium [stage area between the curtain and the orchestra] was 30 feet wide and the stage 25 feet deep, with five dressing rooms. It was a variety theater and became part of the E.H. Bostock chain of variety theaters about eight years after opening

Films were shown as part of the variety program from the early years. In 1929 it was taken over by the Associated British Cinemas chain, and became a full time cinema, although some stage shows were retained in the programming. The Hippodrome was later operated by Regis Entertainments, and from September 1965, it was run by an independent operator and returned to live theater use. The Hippodrome Theatre was closed in April 1957.

In 1958, under new owners, the exterior was modernized, and the stalls-floor leveled. It became the Savoy Ballroom from June 1959. In the late-1960's it became a bingo club, operated as a Top Rank Bingo Club and the original Frank Matcham decorations were removed, apart from the ceiling, leaving a rather plain auditorium. Bingo ceased in the early-1980's.

The building was demolished in 1985, and an office block named Cardinal House was built on the site.

02 February, 1944

438^th AAA AW BN

APO 527 % Postmaster, N.Y.

England

2 February, 1944      1030

Dearest sweetheart -

I thought I’d start a letter to you now, although I probably won’t be able to finish it until after lunch. I’m waiting for a jeep to take me to some of the sections, but my driver won’t be back for about half an hour. I have just finished a lecture on “shock, hemorrhage” etc.

I’m looking at you right now, dear, and funny thing – you’re looking right back. Did you notice that – about your picture? No matter what angle I look at it from – you’re always looking right back at me. Darling – I can’t thank you enough for that picture. It’s made a new man out of me. I can visualize you so much better than before – it’s wonderful! And as I write – you’re looking at me as if in approval – dear.

I was interested in your remarks about censorship, darling. I’m actually surprised that more of my letters haven’t been opened. Every letter written by an enlisted man is censored, of course (I have to censor my detachment’s mail), but they only spot check the officers’ mail. I can’t seem to remember my writing you any telephone number dear. You wrote you found it cut out. At any rate – they’re not cutting out very much and all in all – censorship rules in this theater aren’t too strict – unless you try to be too specific.

Last night, dearest, the Special Service officer arranged for a movie – just for our outfit. It was ‘This is the Army” – and somehow or other – I hadn’t seen it. I really liked it although some parts of it made me very homesick. It was well done and the song numbers are by now old favorites. It helped kill an evening. It was over by 2130. We then went back to quarters and sat around and talked. Where I’m situated right now – there’s an awfully nice officer. Jim Copleston by name. He’s a graduate of Fordham and went to Law School after that. He lives in Manhattan – and is well read etc. I’ve had some pleasant chats with him. The reason I haven’t had much chance to get to know him was that I’ve always been with Hq and he – with a line battery. For the time being – we’re together. Have to leave now – dear –

1300

Hello – darling!

Well I did what I had to do – had lunch and I’m ready to continue. I was telling you about Jim. I find him interesting because he seems to have a good talking knowledge of books, art and music – besides having a good sense of humor. He’s a good Catholic, by the way, and the only man I ever knew that came out of Fordham with some knowledge of the arts. It’s been nice to have some talks with him, dear. He has a girl at home who is waiting to marry him. After the war, darling, if we occasionally take a trip to New York – Jim will be a nice fellow to look up.

That reminds me, dear – I haven’t heard from Stan in quite a while – although I should – one of these days. I wonder how things are really going with him and Shirley. Anything new? Also – how about Betty and Les? Did he get home or furlough, did she go down to see him – or what? I suppose you’ve told me all about it – but I happened to think about it. And did Fran get married the 15th of January – or am I thinking of something else? And when would you like to get married, darling? Will any day or month do? Remember – when the time comes, sweetheart – you name it – and it will be all right with me – just so long as you don’t put it off too far.

Well, dear, for now there really doesn’t seem to be anything of news to write about. The winter here is passing swiftly away and soon something is bound to happen. The quicker the better – as I see it, because the sooner it starts, the sooner we’ll all be home. The mere thought makes me tingle. It’s so obscure right now, but sweetheart – it has to come. Someday I’ll get off a boat and head for you and home. What lies in between – is not for us to know right now – but darling, I’ll go on thinking and dreaming and loving you and then one day, I won’t have to think or dream – just love, and when that day comes, dear, we’ll know our prayers were heard and answered. For now, dearest – all my sincerest

Love

Greg.

* TIDBIT *

about This is the Army

This Is the Army (1943) had a thin romantic plot which provided a thread on which to hang a musical revue sung and danced by more than 300 real American soldiers, with 17 Irving Berlin songs providing the score. The picture was made by Warner Brothers by special arrangement with the War Department as a morale booster and to raise money to help soldiers and their families by way of the Army Emergency Relief organization. Insisting on integration, Berlin was allowed to include African American performers. Although this was not new for Berlin, it certainly was for the segregated United States Army. As a compromise, no Whites and African Americans appeared on stage simultaneously.

The movie started as a 1942 Broadway musical, but its origins went back to Irving Berlin's World War I stage hit Yip Yip Yaphank, an all-soldier revue (about his outfit in Yaphank, New York) that lifted public morale in its own time. In This Is the Army, Berlin followed his previous model, updating it with new songs and a reworked plot. Like Yip Yip Yaphank, the new production concerned a Broadway producer putting on a variety show performed by soldiers who march off to war at the end of the show.

The Broadway version of This Is the Army opened on July 4, 1942, employing a cast of over 300 actual soldiers who formed a real Army unit. Soon it went on the road. Meanwhile, Berlin sold the show to Jack Warner and the movie production was begun. The soldier cast set up a military barracks near the Burbank studio, and they marched to work in formation every morning at 6 a.m.

Joining the military cast were actors George Murphy and Ronald Reagan, playing father and son. Also appearing in the picture were Kate Smith, Frances Langford, boxer Joe Louis, and Irving Berlin, himself, singing "Oh, How I Hate to Get Up in the Morning." Here he sings that song:

Kate Smith performed "God Bless America," her signature song, which Berlin originally wrote in 1918 but which only made its public debut in 1938 on Kate Smith's radio program. For the movie, Smith recreated her famous introduction to the song. Here is the clip:

The movie was not the end of the show, however. After production, the Army again took the stage show on the road, touring England and then the battlefronts of North Africa, Italy, the Middle East, and the Pacific Theater, with stops in New Guinea, the Philippines, Okinawa and Iwo Jima. The final stop was Hawaii, and the final performance was on Maui on October 22, 1945. Berlin accompanied the show on this world tour, continuing to sing his song on stage at every performance. In the end, This Is the Army was seen by some 2.5 million soldiers. The movie and stage show combined to bring in nearly $10 million for Army Emergency Relief.

01 February, 1944

[Note from FOURTHCHILD: This letter was begun on 31 January, 1944 but finished and mailed the next day, 1 February.]

438^th AAA AW BN

APO 527 % Postmaster, N.Y.

England

31 January, 1944   1930

My dearest darling -

I wrote you earlier today – but since then I received a letter from you which I felt like answering now. I may not finish it – as I have some records to take care of tonight, but I just felt in the mood for speaking with you.

Darling – it was a letter of January 7 that I got today; I have had some later ones; but this one was the type of letter that never seems dated – Dear – when you feel very blue or lonesome, please don’t take it out on anyone else but me. It’s not fair to your folks, sweetheart, and it will only make them unhappy to see you that way. They cannot realize that deep down where it can’t be seen or described you have a sensation which really keeps you closer to me than to anyone else in the world. When you feel like that, dear, tell me and to everyone else keep a stiff upper lip. The fact is I do understand because I feel the way you do – so often. But it is not a sensation of despair; it’s just such an intense longing for fulfillment of your thoughts, pictures and dreams. Darling – when you fell blue – tell me – and rather than making me feel blue too – it merely has the effect of bringing us closer together. I then tell myself that if you feel the way I do – and your letter proves it – then you must care for me with the same burning desire that I do for you – and knowing that, dear, is a very helpful thought to fall back on. Dearest – never hesitate to tell me how you feel – however often – will you?

I try and shall continue to try to let you know how much I love you, care for you and miss you. I tell you a lot of minuscule detail of what goes on around here, dear, – but only to give you a picture of my stay in England. Actually, sweetheart, one thought possesses me – only one, and that thought is of you and me after the war, married and happy. It must be!

I’ll stop now, dear, until tomorrow probably – but I had to tell you how I felt after reading your letter. Goodnite for now darling.

Tuesday, 1 February, 1944   1300

Sweetheart –

The best gift in the world that I could have received on my Birthday – was your picture. And wasn’t it strange that it should arrive just on my Birthday? I’m afraid I’ll wear it out if I continue to look at it so hard and as often as I have since yesterday, dear. I’ve got it sitting in such a position that you look at me every time I enter or leave the room. Naturally I say “hello, darling” and “see you soon, darling” each time I pass you – and just as naturally the boys think I’m cracked. But I’m not, dear, really. I don’t know how I got along without the picture so long – I feel so close to you having it to look at.

Dearest – the way you write about ‘my’ sweater, I can’t help but laugh. You tell me you’re knitting it like ‘mad’ – as if you wanted to be sure about getting it done before the war is over! Well – there’s no harm in being ready, is there, dear? I shall be proud of it, darling, I know. As for your socks – I do wear them – but infrequently. They’re too darn good for the field. I wore them when I went to the Officers’ Club evenings – more than I do now. Frankly – I’m saving them. But I see them often, darling, and I think of you – and last fall and school. I keep them now – since they were last washed – in a compartment of my Val-a-pac – where my handkerchiefs are – so I see them every day, at least.

Wilma, dear, you do belong to me, make no mistake about it, engaged or not. You can’t belong to anyone else – not the way we feel about each other. I also wish we had been engaged, and although I have not yet received an answer to my letter of some time ago about getting engaged – I’ll mention it again, daring. Do you think it would be possible to do so? I really mean it! After all – it’s a question of the way we feel about each other – that counts, and since we do feel this way why shouldn’t we do the normal thing? The fact that I’m over here makes no difference to me at all. As a matter of fact – I was reluctant to bring the subject to a head while we were together – because of the short time we knew each other. Every day, week and month that goes by and finds us still caring as much and more – adds stability and longevity to our love and makes an engagement sound more sensible. I hope you don’t think I’m completely batty, darling. Let me hear from you on this subject, dear.

The next week or so I’m going to be pretty busy for a change. My detachment is to have a proficiency test – physical, medical, and tactical and it behooves me to do a lot of teaching, training etc. No letter today, dear, but yesterday’s was so sweet, I’ll keep reading it today and besides – I have your picture to look at. You’ll never realize what that picture has done for me – in so short a time. Darling – if the picture can talk after the war – it will tell you how often I spoke to it and the things I said. I think you’d like to hear it.

Incidentally – I’m still tallying the missed kisses and the total is now 4850. Boy! Oh Boy!

Darling, that’s all for now. I’ll write again tomorrow – and remember that I love you as strongly as you love me – and I believe that is very very strong. So long, dear and

All my love

Greg.

Regards!

Love

G.

31 January, 1944

438^th AAA AW BN

APO 527 % Postmaster, N.Y.

England

31 January, 1944    1600

Dearest sweetheart -

First of all – your picture came today! And I love it! I didn’t want to let you know how anxious I was about getting it, darling, because I was really afraid it might have been lost – but sooner or later everything gets here I guess. I kept trying to remember what the picture looked like, dear – and now that it’s here – it’s swell. And I like what you wrote on it, too. I’ve already shown it to the boys and they feel better now, too, because they’ve been wanting to see what I’ve been talking about. Now everything’s fine. I like the folder very much, darling, and rather than keep it as a wallet right now – I’ve got it up on a small shelf near my bed where I can see it every time I enter my room.

In connection with pictures, Sweetheart, I haven’t neglected your request about a picture of myself for you. I have had two sets done already (three, counting Camp Edwards) and I can’t seem to get one I would like to send you. You have enough bad ones of me as it is. The last set I had done in London – a few weeks ago. Although they’re glad enough to take your money, they whisk you in and out before you know it. They’re all busy and independent. However dear – I’ll try again.

This morning I came back from London. What! Again! Yes – but I hadn’t planned to go particularly, this time. As I wrote you – according to the schedule – we get our 2 days off about every 14 days. If someone can’t make it – you move up. If you can’t take your turn – you must wait for the next series – so that you may have to wait about 4 weeks before getting a little time off. If I were going out evenings, I wouldn’t mind – but I’ve just been taking it easy, sleeping and reading – so the change is good.

Well, darling, Sat. a.m. I was given the alternative of taking 2 days or missing my turn. I hadn’t planned on it and no one else was going – but I went just the same. I got into London in the late p.m. and looked around for a hotel. It was rather easy because at the end of the month the boys are broke and stay away in droves. I got a fairly nice room – with bath – for one guinea a nite. (A guinea is one pound and one shilling – or 21 shillings or about $4.20.) I took a bath, a short nap – and then walked out to look around. I don’t like to be alone very often, especially when I’m thinking ‘hard’ of you, sweetheart, but London is a big city and just watching the mixture of people you can spend an evening – and the point is – I was out of camp. I got to bed early and slept late.

Sunday p.m. I read the Sunday paper and then went for a walk to Hyde Park to listen to the soap-box orations for which Hyde Park is famous. They talk about everything, but most usually against the gov’t, war etc. People stand around and listen and then walk away. There are no demonstrations or anything like it.

Early evening, dear, I thought I’d go to a movie. I found that I had seen most of the movies, but I came across a place that showed French pictures – so I went in. I saw an interesting picture ‘Un Carnet de Bal’ – or ‘A Dance Programme’ – and it referred to the programmes girls used to have when they went to a prom and exchanged dances. The picture deals with a rich woman whose husband dies; She comes across the programme and decides to look up the various fellows whose names were written down. The picture is a series of separate scenes, thinly woven together.

I hope I’m not boring you, Sweetheart, with this account – but I want you to know what I do when I’m off. Anyway – I got out of the movie about 8:30 and was hungry – but not for English food. It really is awful, darling – even in the best hotels. I asked someone where I could get some Chinese food – and sure enough, after stumbling around in the black-out, I found a rather nice place. It was much like our Chinese restaurants, but they call their dishes by different names. I managed to get something that looked and tasted like Sub-gum Chow Mein and it sure was good. Remember when we had Chinese food last, darling? I sat there by myself, dear, and boy how I missed you! I then went back to the Hotel, slept, and made a 0650 train back here. It really was a restful trip – and I’m getting to know London, Sweetheart. If we can ever get over here together, I think I’ll be able to show you around.

I haven’t forgotten today was my birthday, dear. I took out the letter you wrote me sometime ago in which you made some nice wishes for me and us and I’ve re-read it. That, for now, will be my celebration – but again, darling – we’ll make this one up – after the war.

Right now I’ve got to go pay my men – this being the end of the month, and then I’ve got to take care of a few details. I’ll write again tomorrow, dearest – and I love your picture because it brings you a little nearer to me. Gosh, how I’d love to have you in my arms tonight! I missed you so much while I was in London – even more than in Camp, I think, because I’m so envious of couples I see all over. But I’m satisfied, darling – because I love you and that love will hold us together until the day I get back and we consummate that love.

So long for now, Sweetheart, and on this my Birthday, I wish for both of us a happy long lifetime of richly wedded companionship and mutual affection and admiration. I think we have all of that now, dear – all but the wedded – and we’re coming to that I know –

All my love,

Greg.

Regards to everyone, dear

Love

G

30 January, 1944

No letter today. Just this:

* TIDBIT *

[Note from FOURTHCHILD: Upon his return from London, Greg received the orders shown below. His name has been removed, as usual, for privacy reasons. The order was issued by Colonel Plank and signed by David C. Bunin, 1st Lt, AGD, Asst Adj Gen. Some abbreviations are explained in brackets and others are listed below the orders. Also below the orders is a *TIDBIT* within a *TIDBIT* about Colonel Plank.]

RESTRICTED
HQ EBS SOS ETOUSA APO 517

PAC TWX LN-4301, Hq SOS, 10 Sept 1943, the following named O [officers] will proceed o/a [on or about] 7 Feb 1944 to the Royal Society of Medicine, 1 Wimpole St, London,W.1. on temp dy [temporary duty] to attend the Inter-Allied Medical Conference on War Medicine, to be held on 7 Feb, at 0900 hours, and upon completion of such temp dy will return to proper sta [station].

CLICK ON IMAGE TO ENLARGE

SOME ABBREVIATIONS

 HQ = Headquarters
EBS =Eastern Base Section
SOS=Services of Supply
ETOUSA =European Theater of Operations, US Army
AGD=Adjutant General's Department

*TIDBIT * within a *TIDBIT*

Colonel Ewart Gladstone Plank, who gave these orders, was a Deputy Chief of Staff in Britain who grew up in Missouri. He is better known for having written a memorandum reflecting his exceedingly racist concerns about Black soldiers. Graham H. Smith wrote the following in When Jim Crow Met John Bull: Black American Soldiers in World War II Britain, Tauris, London, 1987 (pp 113-114):

"Possibly the most extraordinary attempt from the American military to provide guidelines on the issue of commanding black troops came from Colonel Plank on 15 July 1943...

Colored soldiers are akin to well-meaning but irresponsible children... Generally they cannot be trusted to tell the truth, to execute complicated orders, or act on their own initiative except in certain individual cases... the colored race are [sic] easily led, extremely responsive, and under stress of certain influences such as excitement, fear, religion, dope, liquor... they can change form with amazing rapidity from a kind or bashful individual to one of brazen boldness or madness, or become hysterical... The colored man does not look for work. He must be assigned a specific task that will keep him busy... The colored individual likes to 'doll up,' strut, brag and show off. He likes to be distinctive and stand out from the others. Everything possible should be used to encourage this... In the selection of NCOs the real black bosses should be picked rather than the lighter 'smart boy.'

Plank gave special attention to the problems which Great Britain was presenting, and in doing so made some judgments which would quite clearly have distressed the female inhabitants of the country. The particular difficulty, as he saw it, was the problem of black solder/white girl relationships. The Colonel saw the situation very simply: for him three types of girls associated with black soldiers, and all could be easily categorized. There were the recognized prostitutes, who could be dealt with by the civil police; then there was the 'semi-respectable older woman of loose morals' looking as much for drinks as money; finally there was the problem of the minor, and this again could be solved by collaboration with the local police.

The limited circulation of Plank's unsigned memorandum succeeded in generating so much protest, from black and white officers alike, that Lieutenant General Devers, the Assistant Adjutant General, requested all copies of Plank's letter to be destroyed."

28 January, 1944

438^th AAA AW BN

APO 527 % Postmaster, N.Y.

England

28 January, 1944    1315

Wilma darling -

As I mentioned yesterday, I still don’t know your exact schedule, but if it’s a normal one – you should just be returning from lunch. Oh – heck – I forgot about the time difference. That means you’re probably just getting to work. Well – I hope you have a pleasant day, dear.

I haven’t mentioned the weather for some time, darling, but I can’t pass over the past few days. They’ve been beautiful, with the skies sunny all day (except for the hordes of our planes overhead) and the air fresh. It’s just like late March in New England.

In my present set-up I’ve been doing more visiting to the various sections of the batteries and as a result most of my mornings are spent getting into and out of a jeep. By now my cheeks are pink and I end up ravenously hungry, darling. I just got back from lunch and believe it or not dear I consumed and enjoyed five medium-sized pork chops and were they good! The food has been good on the whole, darling, but very plain and the big trouble has been in between meals. There’s just nothing to munch on and the days of ice cream, milk shakes, cokes etc. are gone until we get back, I guess. I think I’ll probably be able to stand it, though.

Last night was another quiet, but pleasant evening. Thru Special Services distribution I got hold of a January 10th Time Magazine – pony edition and I spent the evening getting up to date with America. Later in the evening a visiting Major dropped in to stay with us for a couple of days. He’s from Chicago and knew a fellow I once knew. We had a nice time chatting and reminiscing. Early this morning I gave a class in First Aid to some of the men. After I get through writing to you, darling, I’m going to the club and soak in a tub for a couple of hours. It’s funny how I’ve gotten to like a tub. I used to enjoy only a shower, probably because I was always in a hurry. But Sweetheart I have time on my hands these days.

By the way, in one of your letters you ask me to tell you more about things, dear. Honestly – I’m telling you just about everything that can be told in the mail. You must by now realize what our mission has been so far in England. Other than that I believe I’ve told you about everything that happens to me, day by day, dear. Frankly – I’m content to let matters stay as they are right now, because the Lord knows we could be doing a lot of other things.

I’ve just re-read one of your recent letters in which you tell me you believe your folks are getting used to the idea of us. That’s swell, darling, and will make it just so much more natural for us to get married when the time comes. Your asking me not to change dear, was interesting. We each have a mental picture of the other at the time we last saw each other. I’ve re-lived that very last evening a thousand times, by the way. We were alone – most of it – and the only factor that made us act pseudo-casual was the thought that we might see each other in New York. But I remember you so vividly those last two nights, and I don’t want you to change either, Sweetheart. I want you – and I know I’ll have you – just the way you were when I first loved you. As for me, Sweetheart – don’t be afraid. The war won’t do anything to me except to make me a patient waiter. My tastes won’t change and neither will my ideas on life; if anything those ideas are becoming more crystallized. If there’s horror to be seen – I’ve seen horror before – in my profession and I know it won’t affect me. I’ve always been simple in my tastes, darling, and I know I’ll remain so. I know that when next I hold you in my arms – it will be the same fellow who held you in his arms one Saturday night and said “so long” to you, and to himself in a low voice “auf wiederschen”.

Dearest – that’s all for now. Be well and don’t work too hard. You’ll have to have a lot of pep to keep up with me – you know. Regards to everyone and

All my love for now

Greg.

* TIDBIT *

about Time's Pony Edition

Time magazine produced what was called the "Pony Edition" during World War II to save on materials. These editions measured either 7-5/8" x 5-1/2" or 8-3/8" x 6-1/8", depending on where they were printed. The content was the same as the full-sized edition. In this photo, a U.S. Marine is reading a copy of a Time Pony Edition.

CLICK ON PICTURE TO ENLARGE


The cover of the Time issue for January 10, 1944 is shown here: