06 February, 1944

438^th AAA AW BN

APO 527 % Postmaster, N.Y.

England

6 February, 1944     0835

Dearest sweetheart -

This is pretty early for a Sunday morning, dear, but if I don’t write now I probably won’t be able to get a chance to write you later in the day. As I wrote you yesterday, darling, I’m off for London – but I have to take off this p.m. – because the Conference starts early in the a.m. tomorrow. In order not to cancel my review of first-aid – etc. which I have been doing in the afternoon, I moved it up to the morning and we’re going to start at 0930 and go to 1130.

Again – last night darling – I got another letter from you – and if there’s a better tonic than getting a letter from you every day or so – I’d fail to know what it is, dear. And your letter was written on the 21st of January – which is the very latest from you to date.

The sweater you describe sounds peachy, dear, and I’d love to be wearing it now. Now darling, don’t wear it out showing it to everybody! After all I want to be able to surprise a few people with it. Did your Mother ever get through that other sweater she was purling on for what seemed so long a time? I certainly thought it would be a duration’s project, but here she is starting another one.

Little by little I’m getting to know more and more about your job, sweetheart. The one letter which must have told me just what it is – has not come yet. In yesterday’s letter I first hear the name Filene’s, street-floor, and upstairs and I’m beginning to get an idea of what’s what. So Filene’s would know me if I walked in? The other girls, I assume, have boy friends, of course – only between sales! I’m glad, dear, that the neighbors are getting to know me – so when I drive up they’ll all be able to say, ‘Here comes Greg for Wilma,’ and a little later, ‘Here comes Wilma with Greg’. I’m also glad about your relatives, darling, because I want to know them well and have them like me. I’m certain that I’ll like them all – because that’s the way I felt when I met them. So Grandma B. got my letter? If you’ll jot me her address from time to time, dear, I’ll keep in touch with her. She always seemed very friendly to me – and that’s more than you can say for a lot of Grandmothers.

You asked me in a letter of a couple of days ago whether or not I was keeping in contact with various people in Salem. I guess you know by now that I am – I certainly don’t want to get out of contact. In that connection – I’m enclosing a clipping which a former patient of mine sent me – with the statement – “this appeared on the front page of the Salem Evening News”. That paper, by the way – is the bible and paper of Salem, conservative etc. etc. The underline with pencil was put down by the patient, by the way, dear and not me. So you see I’m still considered an integral part of the Salem Hospital – which I knew anyway. By the way, dear, I hope you don’t mind the H. Gregory part – but that’s the way they carry me on their records at the hospital.

Darling, I’ll have to stop now and get going – or my boys will think I’ve overslept (I’m writing this in my quarters and not from the dispensary!) I don’t know whether or not I’ll have a chance to write you tomorrow, dear; it depends on what time in the evening I get back from London. At any rate – you’ll be with me in spirit, Sweetheart, as you always are wherever I am.

You sounded a bit tired in your last letter, dear, and I hope you are not over-working. Until tomorrow, then, darling – I’ll say so long and I sure would love to carry out the words of “Embrace Me” which you mentioned. Do you get black and blue easily, dear? Seems to me you once mentioned that. Oh well – I’ll be able to treat you, anyway. Solong for now – Sweetheart and

All my love

Greg

Regards!

Love, G.

* TIDBIT *

about Embraceable You

This song was originally written in 1928 for an unpublished operetta named East is West. It was eventually published in 1930 and included in the Broadway musical Girl Crazy, where it was performed by Ginger Rogers in a song and dance routine choreographed by Fred Astaire. The orchestra for the performance was the Red Nichols Band which included Benny Goodman, Glenn Miller, Jack Teagarden, Jimmy Dorsey, and Gene Krupa. George Gershwin conducted the music at the premier before handing the baton over to Earl Busby. Girl Crazy would run for 272 performances.

The Broadway show was adapted for film versions by RKO in 1932, by MGM in 1943, and again by MGM in 1966, with the title When the Boys Meet the Girls. The 1943 MGM version of Girl Crazy was the eighth Mickey Rooney/Judy Garland film and was generally well reviewed. Over sixty years after making its debut, Girl Crazy was once again on Broadway, this time as the basis for the 1992 hit Crazy For You which ran for 1622 performances. Seven of the songs from Girl Crazy were included in the score along with 13 other Gershwin songs. Here is Judy Garland singing Embraceable You as Wilma most likely heard it around this time. The lyrics follow the clip.

Embraceable You
Music by George Gershwin, Lyrics by Ira Gershwin, 1928

Dozens of boys would storm up.
I had to lock my door.
Somehow I wouldn't warm up
to one before.

What was it that controlled me?
What kept my love life lean?
My intuition told me you'd come on the scene.
If you listen to the rhythm of my heartbeat
You will get just what I mean.

Embrace me, my sweet embraceable you
Embrace me, you irreplaceable you.

Just one look at you my heart grew tipsy in me.
You and you alone bring out the Gypsy in me.
I love all the many charms about you.
Above all, I want my arms about you.

Don't be a naughty papa.
Come to baby, come to baby do
My sweet embraceable you

Embrace me, my sweet embraceable you.
Embrace me, you irreplaceable you.

In my arms I find you so delectable, dear.
I'm afraid it isn't quite respectable, dear.
But hang it! Come on let's glorify love!
Ding Dang it! You'll shout "Encore!" if I love

Oh, don't be a naughty baby.
Come to papa, come to papa do
My sweet embraceable you

05 February, 1944

438^th AAA AW BN

APO 527 % Postmaster, N.Y.

England

5 February, 1944     1745

Dearest darling Wilma -

I have just finished my evening meal and I’m ready to say ‘hello’ again. I didn’t eat much for supper dear – because I thought we’d eat at the Copley later, but then I remembered I forgot to make reservations, so we’d better put it off.

Today I did a bit of traveling around in the morning and got back here for lunch. In view of our coming inspection next week I thought it wise to conduct a comprehensive review of various subject matters. We started at 1330 and continued almost until 1700. I think we accomplished quite a bit.

Late yesterday, darling, I got a swell letter from you – written Jan. 13th. You mentioned that Mary had brought you one of my letters to the store. It was nice of her to do it, Sweetheart, and thank her for me. Dearest – it was a sweet letter and very thoughtful – and if you are trying to endear yourself to me, darling, you can’t imagine how much you are succeeding. Gosh – I love you so much and so hard, I don’t know what to do, except to tell you about it. You thrill me beyond anything I have ever experienced just by your sincere expression in words, of your love for me. Do you know what I mean, dear? Just to see in words written by someone so dear to me – gives me the warmest, most stimulating sensation I have ever had. We seem so close to each other in our letters, closer almost than when I last saw you, and yet normally so. It has all been natural, steady and sincere between us, and darling your love and mine must end in happiness for both of us. I surprise myself in writing this way – which I admit was most foreign to me before I met you dear. I hope I don’t sound gushy. I don’t feel so, but then – it’s hard to put feelings like this into words and yet have them retain their full meaning.

In connection with your work, dear, my brother wrote that he thought you were working three nights a week. Is that true? Are you sure you’re not working too hard? I couldn’t help laugh at your father’s predicament with the locked car – although I know it wasn’t very funny at the time. The fact is I laughed because it has happened to me and I remember how disconcerted I was. That’s the trouble with General Motor’s cars. By the way, dearest, I still haven’t heard when you go to work, when you get thru, how you go etc. I try to fit you into each part of the day, darling and if you’re in a streetcar at a certain hour – I want to be able to picture you there.

Tomorrow, dear, I’m giving another long review. Tonite – after I finish this letter – I’m going to relax and read a novel by Kenneth Roberts – ‘Oliver Wiswell’ – I believe I mentioned it to you before.

Well, Sweetheart, that’s all for now – but before closing I want you to know again how much I love the sweetness and sincerity of your letters, and therefore – of you. I shall try to be the same, darling. Until tomorrow – and eventually for always, dear. You have

All my love

Greg

* TIDBIT *

about Kenneth Roberts and Oliver Wiswell


Kenneth Roberts on the Cover
Time, 25 November, 1940

In the 25 November, 1940 issue of TIME, a review of Oliver Wiswell and its author, Kenneth Roberts, was featured. As mentioned in a previous letter from Greg, his intern friend at Beverly Hospital, Ken Cuneo, was Kenneth Robert's doctor in Kennebunk, Maine. Excerpts of this article (taken out of order) can be read below.

Kenneth Roberts's respect for cold facts, his tirelessness in tracking down historical obscurities and his fearlessness in publishing what he finds, have resulted in some shocking reversals of U. S. cultural myths. In two of his books, Roberts has heroized traitor Benedict Arnold. This week the same qualities resulted in another first-class historical shocker.

"Oliver Wiswell is a sustained and uncompromising report of the American Revolution from the Tory viewpoint. As a story, Oliver Wiswell is one of the best yarns Novelist Roberts has spun. It is packed with people, battles, sudden flights, escapes, rail-riding mobs, secret service, forlorn defenses, intrigue, massacres, exile, and there is the usual restrained Roberts love story. There are also great scenes: the headlong flight by sea of thousands of Tory refugees and British troops from Boston; the heroic stupidity of the repeated British frontal attacks at Bunker Hill, seen through Tory eyes from Charlestown windows and roof tops.

The novel's plot is simple. Son of a distinguished Massachusetts Tory lawyer, Oliver Wiswell comes home from Yale to find himself caught in the early stages of the American Revolution. When he rescues Tory Printer Thomas Buell from a mob that has tarred and feathered him, Wiswell has already taken sides. By the time a sadder and wiser Wiswell starts a new life in Canada years later, he has fled from Boston to Halifax to New York to London to Paris, back to New York, and down to Virginia in search of Burgoyne's lost army. Most of the novel reports Wiswell's adventures in all these places as a British spy.

Its 836 pages are sustained by Novelist Roberts' wrathful consciousness that while history is always written by the victors, a historical romancer sometimes has a chance to tell the truth. Roberts tells the truth (as he sees it) about the lost cause of American loyalism with as much passion as if he himself had been tarred and feathered by a Massachusetts mob.

Until Kenneth Roberts was 40, he seemed perfectly content as a newspaperman. Out of Cornell (where he had edited the Widow), he went to work on the Boston Post, where he stayed eight years as reporter, feature writer and humorous columnist. He went to Manhattan for brief spells on Puck and the old Life. Then World War I took him to Siberia as a captain in the military intelligence. Thus began nine years of roving in which he covered Europe, Asia and Washington, D. C. for the Saturday Evening Post. Twelve years ago Kenneth Roberts was a top-flight U. S. foreign correspondent. Then he settled down to write novels.

Among other books, key historical novels by Roberts and their topics include:

• Arundel (1929) - The American Revolution through the Battle of Quebec
• The Lively Lady (1931) - War of 1812
• Rabble in Arms (1933) - Sequel to Arundel; the American Revolution through the Battles of Saratoga
• Captain Caution (1934) - War of 1812
• Northwest Passage (1937) - French and Indian War and the Carver expedition
• Oliver Wiswell (1940) - The American Revolution from a Loyalist's perspective, from the Siege of Boston to the United Empire Loyalists
• Lydia Bailey (1947) - The Haitian Revolution and the First Barbary War
• Boon Island (1955) - 1710 shipwreck on Boon Island, Maine

In 1957, two months before his death, Roberts received a Pulitzer Prize Special Citation "for his historical novels which have long contributed to the creation of greater interest in our early American history."

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