06 December, 1943 (to her parents)

V-MAIL

438^th AAA AW BN

APO 515 % Postmaster, N.Y.

Dec 6, 1943

Somewhere in England

Dear Mrs. B. –

I have at home about 800 pennies which Wilma and I will gladly stake against any and all combinations of Bridge players – even and including you and Mr. B. Seriously though, I’ve been playing the game frequently since I left, and I’m enjoying it thoroughly. You were right.

Your letter was very pleasant to receive, and I hope you continue to write. I certainly missed not being with Wilma on her Birthday and I’ll feel particularly lonesome on her Graduation Day. I hope you all have a very happy day. I’d give a lot to be able to be with you.

But I waited a long time until I met a girl like Wilma, and I can wait some more – to do my celebrating. I warn you, I shall insist on re-celebrating every holiday, birthday, Graduation – or similar function that I missed while I was away. Will you and Mr. B. be my guests?

Thanks again for writing and my best regards to Mr. B. So long for now –

Sincerely,

Greg

[Note from FOURTHCHILD: Greg used Wilma's full last name throughout this letter, not the more familiar "Mr. B." or "Mrs. B." It has been shortened for anonymity.]

06 December, 1943

438^th AAA AW BN

APO 515 % Postmaster, N.Y.

Dec 6, 1943

Somewhere in England

Dearest Sweetheart –

I’ve just got back from a first aid lecture. I gave one this morning, too – and I bet I really know something about the subject when I get back to practice. This being Monday, dear, I find it no different from any other day, including Sunday. Yesterday was nice though because of the mail I received from you – but I believe I’ve told you, darling.

On re-reading your letters today, dear, I find them just as enjoyable, and I’m taking up from where I left off. You mentioned your pictures, Sweetheart. I hope you’ve sent them or it out by now. I’ve got the swellest spot on my desk and I’m anxious to fill it. I’ve answered your question about your mail getting to me. We are assured that regardless of the time, or any other factor (except loss at sea) the mail eventually gets to us. As I wrote yesterday, dear, I got a big avalanche. I hope they continue to come. I suppose my own will reach you in the same fashion. But I certainly do love your constancy in writing, darling, you can’t imagine how much. And if you’ve been a poor correspondent in the past, you’ve certainly done a swell job as far as I’m concerned.

Mentioning ‘swell’ reminds me of a funny word the English use – i.e. ‘yell’. In talking of Bob Hope, for example, they say “He’s a yell” – which I suppose isn’t too far from our “He’s a scream”. And they never say “What’s the latest dope?” but “What’s the latest gen?” , which is short for ‘general knowledge’. But they think we’re just as funny, so it all evens up. Incidentally, their comedians are very corny (a word which is hard to define to the British. Try it, dear, and you’ll see).

You mention in one of your letters about meeting someone on the train, and you end your paragraph with a desire of being married to me. I’ve experienced the same feeling and have tried to analyze it. You know I mentioned it wasn’t fair, etc., etc. I still suppose it isn’t, darling, and yet what a wonderful feeling to know that someone belongs to you. That’s why I feel so swell when you write me such comforting things.

I wish, darling, that you’d forget all about my birthday present. You are all the present I want and I’m happy about that. Besides, as you write, it might get lost – and that would be wasteful. It’s sweet of you to think about it and mention it – and I appreciate it. Anyway, I can’t think of a thing you could possible send me. I’ll tell you what, right after the war, you get me a nice knit tie (not tan) to wear with some new suit I get, and we’ll call it even.

I was sorry to hear about Stan. It’s unusual for him not to look well. He used to be able to chase around a lot, work – etc and still look in the pink. I believe he never really got over his sickness, because he doesn’t seem to be able to fight things off. As regards Shirley, that must be worrying him somewhat too. She’s apparently playing it very cozy. He keeps running between Newton, work and Winthrop – and the combination must be a difficult one to continue. I wonder if they’d let me commute between England and Newton. Stan wrote me a card and asked me to drop a note to Shirley. He gave me her address, but for the life of me I can’t think of her last name, I don’t know why. Would you let me know, dear?

Your Mother’s letter arrived with yours yesterday and it was thoughtful of her to write so soon. It’s swell of your folks to think of me as they do, and the implications your mother left were very nice to read. I shall write her soon; and I trust your father is well long before now.

So here I am darling, closing another letter and feeling near to you, as I always do while I’m writing you. It’s a wonderful sensation and if I keep rambling, it’s because I’m reluctant to end the illusion. I dream so much of us being married and enjoying life in Salem and visiting our folks and naming our children. Gosh, Sweetheart – we’ll have such a wonderful life together – see if we don’t. For now, so long, dear and

You have All my love

Greg.

Well – I've more time, so I’ll write some more. It’s not hard. I haven’t done very much here as yet and seem perfectly content to just hang around. I will continue to do so until the war’s over, dear – so never worry about losing me in any way.

It’s such a queer thing, meeting a girl that you might not have met – and loving her. I think of that often and wonder about it. I couldn’t possibly have ever found anyone like you, darling – or have ever gotten that feeling of being so in love with anyone else. I know it, and it only makes me marvel at the way someone steers things. Long ago it must have been decided that we were meant for each other and if the Lord looks after such things, I certainly am happy for my share.

Again – so long, dear – and I miss you terribly but love you even more so. You are now the recipient of the most intensive mental kiss and hug ever put down on paper, (Wipe your lipstick, dear). Goodnite, darling and my

Sincerest love

Greg

05 December, 1943

438^th AAA AW BN

APO 515 % Postmaster, N.Y.

Dec 5, 1943 Sunday   1530

Somewhere in England

Dearest, darling Wilma -

A measure of one’s happiness is truly a relative thing. Today – Sunday the 5th I received the first letters from you, your mother, my folks and my brother. It seems to me, Sweetheart, that I’ve been happy before in my life time, for instance when I graduated College and Med School, or when I opened my office – and I suppose many other occasions which slip my mind now. Darling I say truthfully that I was never more happy, never had a more elated, satisfied feeling – then I had an hour ago when I was handed a nice stack of envelopes with some swell return addresses on them. Gosh, dear – I know I’ve mentioned each day that I’ve written you about not hearing from you, but it took all the restraint I could muster not to tell you how really blue and lonesome I’ve been not hearing from you. I’ve wanted news from you so very very much. That’s all I’ve had to look forward to. And the things you’ve written me are just what I’ve wanted to hear. Darling – never feel that you are telling me too often; I look for it in all your letters and it makes me feel wonderful.

When I got all your letters – I didn’t know what to do. At first I wanted to read them all immediately. Then I thought I’d ration them, one or two a day as long as they lasted. But, darling, I made a pig of myself and read each and every one of them. But I’ll keep re-reading them, over and over again.

There are so many things you mentioned – I don’t know where to start. To go a way back – to the night letter I’m so glad you received. Although the sequence of the letter and the regular mail must have been a bit confusing – you did very well in surmising what you did and hit it right on the nose. The night letter however did not come from Boston, dear.

You were very sweet, darling, to write my folks and call them. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate it or how glad I am that you want to. I can tell you how they feel though, because I got a swell letter from my father today, too. He writes that you were not only thoughtful, but lovable to do it and that my mother is “crazy about you”. They not only love you, darling (you are so easy to love) – but they are so happy that I’ve met and love a girl as fine as you. Knowing I’m happy too – makes them even more happy. They’ve wanted so much to see me get settled – not alone as I was in Salem, but with a wife, and I guess they know pretty well that we’ll be married when I get back. They have that thought to help them while I’m gone – and Sweetheart I have you to thank for making them feel a little better.

It’s funny your mentioning bridge. I’ve already referred to it. I haven’t played much this week – but I’ll keep playing it until I really know the game. The more I play it – the better I like it. That’s true of many things – like loving you, darling.

I laughed at what you had to say about Medwin. But I give him credit for discerning that I was very much in love with you – although as I think of it dear, that shouldn’t be too hard to gather. You did feign trouble a couple of times in interpreting whether I was serious or not, remember, dear? But on the whole – I think I give myself away pretty easily.

I’m glad about Shirley’s brother. He deserves all the credit due him. I remember seeing the N.Y. papers’ review of the program. One in particular was very favorable. It certainly was a break for him.

And about my brother at the dance – I hope he had a good time and continues to go. But the “auto girl” part interests me. No, no, dear – not personally. You are all I’m interested in – and that brings up another thing – that old friend of yours, Bill R. What you wrote was just what I wished you’d write – and yet I feel so guilty at your refusing to see him, or any other fellow for that matter. I’m a jealous fellow, dear, I believe I’ve told you before. And knowing you were out with someone else – would make me very unhappy, and yet you are young and have so many opportunities, I hate to think of your having to refuse them. I don’t know how to couch my words. I want you to live and enjoy yourself and go out and meet people, and yet Sweetheart – I want you to be mine and no one else’s. That’s selfish, and I know it – and the only unselfish thing I can do about it is not have you mention the matter at all. Remember, darling – you have my love, I have yours. You are willing to wait and I want you to. Nothing else matters to me – but I don’t want to lose you to anyone else!

I’m awfully pleased that J and J remember me and refer to me as they do – even jokingly. We’ll show them, darling – and a lot of other people besides.

I’m going to stop now – but I’ll continue tomorrow. Darling, I’m very happy and very much in love with you. Being married to you is going to be wonderful. You know what I wonder about sometimes? Well I try to imagine what our first difference of opinion will be about; you know everybody has them. So far I haven’t got any idea what it could be. And – one more thing – I think it’s swell of the girls, all of them, to be so thoughtful about me and please tell them – we’ll have them all over to our house for a big party after the war – so I can thank them personally.

My deepest love, Sweetheart

Greg.

* TIDBIT *

about Shirley's Brother


Leonard Bernstein

"Shirley's brother", referred to in this letter, was Leonard Bernstein. On the 16th of November in 1943, Leonard Bernstein, who had only recently been appointed to his first permanent conducting post as Assistant Conductor of the New York Philharmonic, substituted on a few hours notice for Bruno Walter at a Carnegie Hall concert. The concert was broadcast nationally on radio, receiving critical acclaim. Soon orchestras worldwide sought him out as a guest conductor.

04 December, 1943

438^th AAA AW BN

APO 515 % Postmaster, N.Y.

Dec 4, 1943   1500

Somewhere in England

Dearest One –

If I don’t hear from you soon, dear, I’ll run out of subject matter – as if that could ever happen. I’ll just keep on writing and one of these days I bet I hear from you. If you’re not already hearing from me, you must feel even worse than I, because I’m the one that’s away. Well don’t worry, darling, I’m perfectly all right.

Today my radio came and it was a thrill turning it on and hearing music again, the medical detachment cheered – and then their faces fell. I was using the battery, and it went completely dead. I suppose it was a combination of the longevity, plus the inactivity. This was my second battery – which I obtained in Nashville last April. As yet I haven’t been able to obtain the correct type of plug for these sockets, so I’ll have to wait, although I’ve already sent into town for one. In addition I have to buy a transformer because electricity here comes to buildings in 220 volts; ours of course is 110-120. But I’m glad I brought the thing. It may liven up the place a bit. In the short time that it played – I found out one thing, namely – that there’s a good deal of classical music on the air, plus a deluge of recordings in German – for propaganda purposes. At least 3 stations were pounding it out from the BBC – telling the Germans what they had to look forward to.

I paid my men today – as well as getting paid myself. My own pay wasn’t as much as some of my men – my change in allotment to myself not having gone thru. It’s a good thing I’m not planning to do very much. It will probably take another month or so dear – but one thing is certain – I can’t write any checks. The result is that my balance will increase by $100 per month. I get the balance of my pay minus insurance – in cash. Checks aren’t honored here. It’s just as well. The more I save, darling, the more I’ll have. We can spend our honeymoon on my checking account – because it was somewhere around $650 when I left.

Paying the men was amusing but confusing. When they got their money – English money, they started paying off their respective debts to one another and in a short while Charlie and I were settling minor disputes as to who was getting the better of whom. Now the boys are getting ready to hot-foot it to town and spend it all. It will be gone by another week, and then the cycle of borrowing starts all over again. It’s the closest thing to anything perpetual that I’ll ever run into.

Personally I’m holding on to my own. My pay was £14-10-4 or about 58 good old American bucks, or the equivalent of 116 excellent Martinis and about 135 fair martinis. That has to last me the rest of the month, dear. I can remember when it was good for a couple of weekends plus 10 C stickers. Oh hum – I’d gladly change.

Tonite, darling, Pete and I are planning to go into town to look around, although I’ve just heard that the stores closed at 1800. I was hoping we could look around a bit. At any rate we can have a couple of beers in some pub; – an hilarious evening no doubt.

Sweetheart – that’s about all for now except to remind you that I’m very much in love with you, remember? Take care of yourself and I’ll write again tomorrow.

All my love for now –

Greg

03 December, 1943

438^th AAA AW BN

APO 515 % Postmaster, N.Y.

Friday, Dec 3, 1943    1900

Somewhere in England

Dearest Wilma -

I sometimes sit down to write you and for a few split seconds I imagine I’m back in Camp in the States writing you daily. I used to write you early in the a.m. – those days. At this time of the evening I was trying to get Holyoke 9489 on the phone, having raced several other officers to the booth. What a luxury that was! And I remember saying I shouldn’t call you so often. I guess I was foolish; twice a day would have been better.

There’s an almost futile feeling that possesses one here. True, the familiar faces of the soldiers and officers are all around you – but that’s far from enough. It’s the ones you love back home that leave an inexplicable vacancy. You feel as if you just have to do something about it – but there’s just nothing that can be done. You can’t call, you don’t know whether cabling has been effective, you have no idea if your letters are being received, and each day goes by and brings you no letter. The thousands of miles separating you are real, literal miles. Darling – I love you so much it hurts not to be able to be in constant touch with you. I wonder what you do each evening, whether you find the nights as long and empty as I do, how you spend your week-end nights – and a thousand other things. The war, dear, is a tough one for people in love. I’m only realizing how tough, now. What must it be for the boys in the front lines!

And yet, suppose a fellow was not in love. What an empty feeling he would have not to be able to let his mind linger on someone and dream. So the heartache one has over a girl back home is in reality a blessing, because it fills in the void and produces a hopeful mind. And that, dear, is what I thank the Lord for every night when I retire. I hope I don’t make that seem selfish, Sweetheart. Love is that, in a way, but actually it transcends selfishness, because it involves a oneness of purpose and plans and future; and as I think of you, dear, I always feel as bad over the fact that you are missing me. I always think of our future and how happy I hope to make you, of the things we’ll have and do together, of how rich our lives are potentially – and you know, darling – when I get that far in my thought, I start feeling better, the war seems as if it must end in due time. I feel assured that you’ll be home waiting for me after this is over – and bingo, even the gray misty English skies seem bright and I get a real lift.

Darling – you wondered about the possibility of becoming estranged. I think the contrary. I feel that our exchange of ideas – even in letters, will make us know each other much better than when I left. I know I reveal myself in my writing – and you do, too, dear. I think that when I get back, our getting married to each other will be a perfectly natural thing for us. What a happy day!

Gosh, dear – I really got going, didn’t I? I wonder if you think I’m the moody type. You’ve seen me mostly when I’ve been gay and I’m afraid that since arriving here I’ve written a somewhat different view. But even so, no matter how blue I may feel when I sit down to write you, no matter how hopelessly far away I feel, before I finish writing I end up very very close to you. It’s a blessing to be able to do that – and I feel projected all the way to where you are. I can see you clearly – even without your picture which I hope is on its way. That picture, by the way, dear is going to be deeply treasured by me and I can’t wait for its arrival.

I haven’t said much about my activities in today’s letter, Sweetheart – just my thoughts. The truth is that the latter really makes up the most of my activities. Nothing much has happened since I wrote you last except one point of interest. You remember Eliot L.? Well, dear, I may be able to contact him in a day or two. I was surprised when I found he was very near here, already.

It is now past 1930. I’m going to jot a note to the folks and then read an old copy of The New Yorker – which I’ve carried with me from the States. I’ve written my brother to send me the Boston Herald. The English papers have only 4 pages to them, are very crowded, have no sport section and seem quite empty. Even old news will be good to read from home.

I’ll close now, dear, and wish you a “good-night” although its only the afternoon where you are. My best regards to your folks, and the girls – here’s hoping I hear from you soon.

You have all my love, darling –

Greg.

02 December, 1943

438^th AAA AW BN

APO 515 % Postmaster, N.Y.

Dec 2, 1943   1400

Somewhere in England

Dearest Sweetheart -

The sun is shining here today and it’s quite welcome. I wonder how your weather is. I hope that by graduation time the roads are nice and clear. I remember your plans included your folks driving up to Holyoke, with your Grandmother B. How is she, by the way, dear? When you next see her, give her my regards.

At the sake of being repetitious, darling, I’ll say again that I’ve had no mail from you or home – as yet. I don’t know why, because many of the other fellows are now receiving air-mail and V-mail quite regularly. So far Air-mail seems to be coming as swiftly as V-mail. I wonder if that’s true in the other direction. As soon as I hear from you, darling, I’ll let you know – so you can gather how long it takes. Since getting settled here – I’ve written you and my folks at least once per day and soon you should be hearing from me reasonably regularly. I know, Sweetheart, that you must be having a very busy time right now – and if you’re writing only when you have a chance – I understand perfectly, dear. Whenever it is – you can be sure I’ll be appreciative.

Yesterday I wrote you that the Battery Commanders were going out to dinner. The Col. came along too. After staggering thru the black-out we reached the village and passed thru a few alleys and got to the Inn. Many of these inns are in side streets. The place was very old and had 3-4 medium sized rooms where drinks were served, but there was no bar proper. In the room we sat down in – there was a nice large fireplace – with a swell fire going. We got there at 1830 and drank a few until 1930. Drinks are reasonable – only 1/8 for a very good rum – but no coke with it. We then had a steak, yes steak dinner – complete. I hardly believed that was possible in England. It was excellently served and was supposed to cost 7 shillings. Well – we had wine, and then a liqueur and anyway – we ended up paying a pound each which is 20 shillings – so somewhere along the way – the price went up very fast. But it was an enjoyable dinner. About 2130 – we went to an Episcopalian Church in the town. That is officially the Church of England, by the way. We were making arrangements for services for the boys on Sundays. We met a very interesting Vicar, dear – whose son is in the RAF and trained in Florida and Oklahoma. He showed us all over the place. It turned out that the church was one of the old ones in England – over 600 years old. It had been reformed but never rebuilt – and from a historical point of view, it was interesting in that Cromwell had kept political prisoners there. We finally left at 2230 and drove back here. So that’s how I spent my first nite out, darling. It was very relaxing and helped me quite a bit, because truth to tell – I was feeling somewhat low.

In the line of news, Sweetheart, I have nothing to offer. We are allowed 48 hour passes, but the U.S. is just out of reach on that. Some of the boys are planning to go to London one of these week-ends, and I may go with them, although I don’t believe it will be this week-end.

And so, darling, I’ll close again. I hope, dear, that all is well with you and your folks. Again – good luck in your exams and the sincerest wishes on your graduation, dear. Were I present – I would give you a hard kiss in front of everyone on Graduation Day. Remind me, dear – I’ll owe that one to you and will pay you with interest. So long

And as ever,

All my love

Greg

01 December, 1943

438^th AAA AW BN

APO 515 % Postmaster, N.Y.

Dec 1, 1943     1345

Somewhere in England

Dearest Girl -

Another day, and the same longing desire to hear from you. I sure do hope I will soon dear. It will be a great tonic.

You may have noticed that the return address on the envelope is printed, with my signature above it. That, darling, is the latest. I swear – before the war is over we’ll probably be writing the address underneath the stamp. Censorship is undoubtedly important, but I think they’re getting even themselves confused – let alone the enemy.

By the way – the margin left – at the left side of the envelope is to allow the censor to cut the edge, without destroying the return address. Am I leaving enough margin, and also in that connection – how often are the letters being opened, dear? I’m just curious as a matter of interest.

Well, Sweetheart, tonite being Wednesday – the old 438^th is just champing at the bit again. But there’s no Coonamessett Club out this way. Incidentally, I’m told that all the pubs carry signs saying there’s a fine for ‘pilfering’ glasses – so it’s going to be difficult to add to our collection. The last one I got was from the Hotel in N.Y. The reason I didn’t send it was because there was too much red tape involved in packing it and getting it censored. But I have it in my trunk and we’ll have it to add later on.

I started to write about Wed. night, dear. One of the Battery Commanders contacted an Inn about 5 miles from here and arranged for the 6 B.C.’s to have a duck dinner tonite. That will make the first nite out for me. They say these Inns are quaint, but dull. There’s no music and no one raises his voice. But it will get me out for a couple of hours anyway.

I’m still dreaming, darling – but last nite I got cheated; I didn’t dream of you. For some reason or other I dreamed about interning. I had just applied to the Mass. Gen. Hosp. – for a surgical appointment. Then there were a whole maze of events, and I’ll be damned if I know how it ended. I had been thinking of taking a course perhaps – after the war, and I imagine that’s how I dreamed about that.

You ought to be able by now, Sweetheart, to gather that all my time is projected beyond the present in everything I think or talk about. This is just a necessary part, I suppose – but as you suggested in a letter – the last act – a real longie, by the way, is yet to come. As a matter of fact – it’s so long, we’ll make a whole new play around it – but estranged from you, dear?? Never!

Well, darling – I’ve got some things to do. So long for now, Sweetheart – and all my deepest love

Greg

30 November, 1943 (2nd letter)

V-MAIL

438^th AAA AW BN

APO 515 % Postmaster N.Y.

Nov 30, 1943    2230

Somewhere in England

Dearest

I have just written you a fairly long letter by air mail – but I keep thinking that perhaps V-mail is quicker. Just so you’ll start getting some mail sooner, I thought I’d jot down a few lines.

Things are moving about normally, dear, but somehow the war and all always seems to be in second place to you. If I hadn’t told you before that I love you – I’d probably say again that love is behind that feeling. Well – if love is strong enough to make a war take second place, I can’t see the sense to it, and so there’s another reason I hope they end it all soon.

I’ve written more in my letter, darling – but I guess it all adds up to the same – that I love you and miss you – and want you – and oh so many more things along the same theme. For now, that’s all dear and

All my love

Greg

30 November, 1943

438^th AAA AW BN

APO 515 % Postmaster N.Y.

Sunday, Nov. 30, 1943    2130

Somewhere in England

Dearest Darling –

Each day I want to write you by V-Mail and then I decide to use Air Mail. One day you hear there’s no difference – and another day that there’s no comparison. Today, for example dear – I was told by an officer at a place where I was getting supplies – that V-mail takes 8-12 days, and air mail takes 3-4 weeks. I don’t know what to think or do, darling. I’ll just have to wait until I hear from you. I’ll mix in a few V-mails every now and then just in case.

I’ve just got thru reading another one of your letters; Surprised, dear? Yes – I’ve kept a good many of them – for just such an emergency as going overseas, for example. The one I just read was written the night (Sunday) I left you at Wilder and headed for Edwards, after I spent the week-end at Holyoke. I could write that a different way, Sweetheart, but it would sound funny. It was written when you thought you wouldn’t see me again, although before the letter was finished, you had made up your mind that we could see each other the following Friday – this, mind you, dear, after we had decided that it wouldn’t be wise. I laughed when I read that the first time, and again just now – because I no sooner had left So. Hadley Center – when I had already decided the same. And we did get to see each other, not only Friday – but Saturday too. Was our final ‘so-long’ so casual? I don’t mean casual, darling, I mean easy. In a way, it was, because we had done it before. As I think of it now though I wonder how I ever left you, dear. Why are we always so appreciative of things distant? Or – more appreciative, I should say, because the Lord knows – I loved you deeply and appreciated you all the time I was with you. It’s probably because when you are actually with one you love – that the sensual plays such a strong role; when you are separated – you have time to think and evaluate and weigh, and as I do all that, darling, I become even more aware of you and your qualities and love you more fully. I hope I’m making myself clear. I know this, dear – I never felt like this before – ever; and I did have occasion to. I know I would have loved you as much anyway, but maybe the war is a good thing in a way. It gives you a chance to survey the whole picture from a distance, and gives you plenty of time, at that. My picture is a perfect one dear. If only yours ends up the same way – I know we’ll be very compatible and happy.

Today, Sweetheart, I did some more riding around in a jeep – on business. It was rather cold – but I made good use of my hood – which has, by the way, turned out to be a good investment. Every now and then I think of my car – our car (with the push-back seat, you know). I wonder what has happened to it. Then I wonder what kind we’ll get after the war. I’d like to stick to convertibles – if you don’t mind, dear.

Today – Pete (and he sends his regards) and I were talking about the end of the war and how soon a fellow gets out. I suppose it’s kind of early to be thinking about such things – but I see no harm. If you have something worth waiting for – you don’t mind, and darling, I have you. After the war – it takes time to demobilize an outfit – but I believe it’s done in the States. We could be married before my discharge, couldn’t we? The work is routine; there’s no pressure – and why wait? That could perhaps save several months. It’s something to think about. I’m just waiting for that day, darling when I can call you my wife.

I suppose I sound very sentimental etc. But whatever it is Sweetheart – I hope I sound sincere. I am.

Well – it’s late and I’m tired, darling, so I think I’ll stop now and go to bed. You are all I think about at bed-time dear and it’s a pleasant way of falling asleep. Isn’t it?

Good-night, dear – and you have all my love.

Greg.

This Ration Card was issued to Greg on November 30th
for the month of December, 1943. The first two columns
list items and their weekly allotments. Subsequent
columns represent each week and show what was allotted.

CLICK ON IMAGES TO ENLARGE

29 November, 1943 (2nd letter)

438^th AAA AW BN

APO 515 % Postmaster N.Y.

Nov 29, 1943       2000

Somewhere in England

Dear Sweetheart –

I suppose if you were able to get my letters in sequence you’d be amused at the times I write. For instance, last night I wrote you a long letter, sealed it and then proceeded to write you a V-mail letter. I found little difficulty in having enough to write, dear. I wrote you a fairly long letter at about 1630-1700 this p.m. – and here I am writing again. If I tried to write you every time I thought of you – I’d be writing all day and would certainly cause a bottle-neck in the base censor’s office – so it’s a good thing, darling – that I have a couple of other things to do during the day.

Today I felt quite blue for a while, dear. Some of the men and officers got some mail – some dated as recently as Nov. 24. Charlie got two from his wife and one from his folks. They were all air mail and it seems wonderful to think that you can sometimes get mail within a week. They were all addressed with the old APO number. I would have given anything to have heard from you – but there wasn’t a thing for me. However – had I been the only one – I really would have felt bad, but several others didn’t hear and I guess there’s just no figuring how it works. I know you are writing and that’s what counts. I’m sure all your letters will eventually reach me, dear.

This evening we officially opened our officers’ mess, complete with bar. We had all contributed £1 (one pound or 4 dollars) to get a stock going. Then we pay for each individual drink and after the profits turn up – we’ll probably get our investment back. We’ve also given a sum for the purchase of eggs-in-the-shell, if possible; So far – no results. I had a couple of rums, cost 1/8. Remember there are 3 main divisions in prices: pounds, shillings and pence. If something costs one pound, one shilling and one pence – it’s written £1:1/1, so 1/8 = one shilling and 8 pence – or about 33 cents. It was good rum, dear – but you were missing from my side. I couldn’t very well squeeze one of the other officers hands, could I?

Now I’m back in the Dispensary, where I live, incidentally. I’ve got to get my dry cleaning and laundry ready for tomorrow. Yes – I’ve got better facilities here than in the States – except for you, darling! Then I have a few administrative matters to take care of, and I’ll go to bed. I can’t tell you anything about the night life, Sweetheart, because I haven’t been out of an evening as yet. I don’t seem to want to do anything but hang around and think of you. Eventually I’ll go out and have a couple of beers with some of the boys – probably with Pete, anyway.

Well – that’s all darling. This was supposed to be just a note, you remember. I hope, dear – you’re well – and also – that if these letters get to Wilder after you’ve gone, that they’ll be forwarded to Newton.

Good-nite, dear and regards to the girls

All my love

Greg.

29 November, 1943

438^th AAA AW BN

APO 515 % Postmaster N.Y.

Nov 29, 1943    1630

Somewhere in England

Wilma, darling –

And so tomorrow is Dec 1 and the last lap before you graduate. I suppose dear by now you have gone into high gear and are studying like fury. Anyway I hope so. I wonder what you’ve done or are planning to do after graduation, Sweetheart. I find myself thinking a great deal about that these days. You’ll undoubtedly have a lot of time to yourself, even if you work. Will you get bored and fidgety, dear? I pray that you won’t.

The papers here – and undoubtedly the U.S. papers carry so much the past few days about “peace bids”, rumors, etc. One can’t help getting a lift out of that. If the Army and Airforce don’t let up as a result, it’s good tonic. It may be all false – but there’s usually fire where there’s smoke – and maybe something will come of it. I keep thinking of your father’s forecast and wish it were going to be true. Somehow, however, it seems a little premature at this stage.

Last nite, darling, I dreamed of you and your folks. As usual – in dreams – it was very hazy and petered out before it could make sense. It seems I was calling your house by phone. I don’t know from where. Your father answered and recognized my voice and said ‘Wait a minute’. The next voice was that of Shirley B. – for some reason or another and she too said “Wait a minute’. Finally I heard your voice – and the wonderful part of dreams is that I could actually hear it – we exchanged a few words that are non-intelligible to me now – and bingo! – that’s all to the dream. I can only interpret it as a play-back on some of the phone calls I’ve made to you in the past, dear and my frequent feeling of wanting to call you. So far I’ve not been able to find out about telephoning, but you can be sure that if I could conceivably call you Sweetheart – I will – regardless of what it may cost. I think, however, that it seems unlikely. As soon as I get to a big city long enough to find out, I’ll inquire.

I wonder if you’re getting home some of these week-ends or if you’re staying up at school. Have you heard from Shirley or Stan and how are they getting along? Have you been in touch with my folks, dear, – or been to see them? I hope so. I want you to know them very well by the time I get back, dear.

Here – there is nothing particularly new. I find myself – as does everyone else – mimicking the English custom of raising their voices at the end of a sentence and stressing certain words in the middle of a phrase. It’s very peculiar. When you speak on the phone, they always say ‘Are you there?’ But I also find myself liking the English very much. In any of our dealings with the neighboring townspeople – they have been extremely helpful and cooperative – and regardless of what some of our Senators have said – it is the feeling of all American soldiers I’ve spoken with that the ordinary Englishman is very appreciative of the American help here and what they are doing. They speak in great praise of the Airforce, too. And the few British soldiers I’ve spoken with have admiration for the American soldier and the way he lives.

The food here – for the Army – is excellent, and the consensus of opinion, dear, is that you do best if you eat in camp – since everything is so closely rationed outside. Our px’s have everything in the line of cigarettes, tobacco, candy and soap, toilet articles – and even cigars, darling – but each soldier has to have a ration card. The ration however adequately supplies our needs. The eggs in the a.m. are powdered, however, and I haven’t yet got accustomed to that. The milk is powdered, too and has water added to it. It ends up tasting not too bad.

Well, dear – that’s about all this time. I hope I’m lucky enough to dream of you again tonite. But if not – you’re still quiet vivid in my mind, dear – and I do love you so very very much.

All my love for now, darling

Greg

28 November, 1943

438^th AAA AW BN

APO 515 c/o Postmaster N.Y.

Sunday, November 28    1110

Somewhere in England

Dearest Sweetheart –

The past few days have been very busy ones and I’m not sure dear whether or not I wrote you yesterday. From what I gather about getting mail, sequence seems to be no factor at all anyway. At least that’s true of this side anyway. To date, I haven’t received any mail at all here. The only thing I’ve received at all dear, was the one letter I wrote you about a long time ago. I’ve almost worn the print off – reading it. It was written the day you told me you didn’t think it wise to go to New York, remember? I’m told however that sooner or later – but always – all mail will reach us, so darling, some day I expect a harvest.

Sunday morning in Boston I would be getting ready to call you, Sweetheart. I’m so thankful for our memories because I have ample time to relive them. As I think back over the past few months, it’s wonderful to think how well we got to know each other dear. We really did spend a lot of time together, didn’t we? I’ll never forget my telling you I’d like to get to know you well enough to write to you. Off hand I’d say I did.

I keep wondering if you’ve heard from

Sunday 1830

Darling – I stopped where I did when our Col. dropped in to see me about a couple of things. From that time on ‘til now I’ve been busy without a let-up except for meals. Our letters don’t go out but once a day at 0800, so I’ll have to get mine written the p.m. or night before.

What I had started to say was that I’ll be interested in learning when you first heard from me, dear. I hope you’re being patient, darling. Remember – this is just a war; there have been wars before and they’ve always had an ending. They tell me that even the 30 years war wasn’t fought continuously, but had some intermissions. Now isn’t that cheerful, darling?

Well let me tell you a little more about England, dear. Wouldn’t it be swell if you were here though! It’s not beyond the limits of possibility that we could be here together someday Sweetheart. I’m ambitious. The towns here are really English. That’s very profound, that statement – but what I mean is that they are everything they are supposed to be, and the people, too. The dialect changes strikingly in different counties, even. In one place people say ‘half-penny’, in another – a ‘hay-penny'; in another place they say ‘three-pence’ for three-penny, and in another it’s called a ‘three-penny-bit’. It’s confusing. For that matter – the whole monetary system is, and I’ve even got one Englishman – the one who sent out your cablegram – to admit it. What is most difficult is trying to forget our money. If someone says that will cost 2 and 6, (written 2/6) you immediately try to figure first what it means and secondly what it means in American money. In this case – the 2 is shillings and the 6 is six pence. A shilling is 20 cents and 6 pence = a dime so 2/6 = 50 cents. The best thing to do is to think in terms of English money only, but when they say 2/6 – you expect to pay in 2 coins and find that it comes to one coin. A pound is worth 4 American dollars; there are no single dollar bills, but they do have 10 shilling bills (or notes) = $2.00. Incidentally – the money looks like stage money and is almost as big. It’s too wide for our wallets.

I had occasion to visit Liverpool for about an hour yesterday. It’s a big city with narrow winding streets – not unlike Boston in many respects. There were still many traces of previous heavy bombings. I was trying to locate a certain place for my outfit and had a devil of a time. Everyone I asked said he didn’t know. The people have been extremely well disciplined in not telling anyone anything – no matter what he’s wearing; he might conceivably be a paratrooper in disguise, etc. As you ride through the towns and cities you see red booths with all glass sides except for the frame – set at the edge of the curbstone at street corners. They are telephone booths and in some towns are stationed at every block. Everybody and his uncle rides a bicycle – all over the street; they’re really a hazard.

I haven’t been out with any of the fellows of an evening yet but the reports are in the negative. Every town has pubs – like saloons – and that’s all; no movies on Sundays. The movies are American, though – and in a neighboring town they are showing “Heaven Can Wait”, and Abbot and Costello in “Hit the Ice”. The pubs mostly sell beer – warm, as the English prefer it, and for hard liquor they serve gin, straight – if you can imagine. Oh – for a dry Martini, darling!

Buses transport most of the people and you wait at a corner in queues. You dare not push or crowd or try to get in front of anyone – or you pay a fine. I’m writing all this detail, dear – hoping you don’t mind. I’m just trying to let you project yourself over here a bit; I’m able to do the reverse so easily, that it’s really not fair.

So that’s about all for now except that if it’s 1900 now here it’s only 1500 where you are, dear. When I come home – my Sweetheart – I’ll have 4 extra hours in which to hug and kiss you. I wish I could ration those hours and have – say 15 minutes right now, dear. Boy oh boy! This is the longest I have gone since I’ve known you – without kissing you – and we were getting along so fine –

Well, darling, – I’d better stop now or this won’t fit into an airmail envelope. I don’t know when these letters will reach you but soon I’ll have to start writing to Newton – don’t you think? And to think I came so close to being able to attend your Graduation. Yet in the long run dear I think this was best because out set-up here is a much much better one than I would have drawn with that other outfit. And I do so want to come back safe and sound to marry you, darling, have a family and live happily ever after – Amen.

My sincerest and deepest love, dear – all of it.

Greg.

27 November, 1943

V-MAIL

438^th AAA AW BN

APO 515 c/o Postmaster N.Y.

Nov. 27, 1943    0905

Somewhere in England

Darling –

Note the new APO 515. I am now permitted to write that we are in England. I wrote it before it was permitted, unknowingly, and I think the mail must have been held up. I repeat these things in several letters so that if some letters are held up – one of them that gets through will explain.

How are you, Sweetheart? I hope well – and missing me just enough so that I’m always in your thoughts, just as you are in mine, dear. Gosh we’ll have a lot to talk about after the war! Not only will we have our close association then, but I will insist on re-living at least verbally – the time we spent apart. We’re going to be awfully busy, dear!

Darling, I am at present playing more contract bridge than you are, if you can believe it, and furthermore I’m enjoying it. I started in by filling in some hands during our trip, and I soon became a steady partner. So far, hardly a day has gone by without a rubber or two. By war’s end, dear, I may be able to keep up with you, and perhaps we’ll be able to hold our own against our townspeople.

Can’t write much more, Sweetheart. Take care of yourself and always remember that I love you very very much. So long for now and all my transoceanic love –

Greg

(I mean deep more than across)

Regards to the girls –
    All of them

26 November, 1943

[Note from FOURTHCHILD: This is a continuation of the previous letter.]

438^th AAA AW BN

APO 515 % Postmaster, N.Y.

Somewhere in England

Nov. 26, 1943     1120

Darling –

I was right. By waiting another day, I was able to get our new APO number duly marked above. This should be ours for some time I presume. Also I know definitely now that we can say we’re in England. My earlier letters didn’t allow that – although I did write it. It is because of that fact, dear, that I fear some of those letters did not get to you. It seems that it is not so much the strictness that causes the trouble as much as the time element – and that is why our letters are held up – so that there will be no association of time and place.

Anyway dear – we are somewhat settled now and everything is quite fine. I may say that the scenery and background here are everything I imagined them to be, and all British soldiers with whom we have met are extremely friendly and apparently glad to see us. We are allowed passes I’m told and have very little trouble getting to the big cities.

Sweetheart – that’s all for now. I do hope that some of these letters are getting through to you, dear, and I hope also to hear from you soon. Be well, darling, and by the time you get this – you should be doing some hard studying for those big exams – so hit them hard and good luck.

So long for now and all my love

Greg

25 November, 1943

438^th AAA AW BN

APO 4916 % Postmaster N.Y.

Nov. 25, 1943    1120

Dearest Sweetheart –

Today is Thanksgiving here too and I can’t help but wondering dear what it would be like were I back home. The idea of distance and space has not yet left a deep impression upon me, darling; I still can’t seem to realize that getting to the nearest phone won’t help very much. So if I muse a bit, excuse it dear.

I imagine we’d eat at one of our houses – but not until we had spent the morning together somewhere – maybe even at the Boston Latin – Boston English game at Fenway Park. I used to take that game in, as did many of my old high-school friends. It was always a good place to meet up with an old pal.

Anyway, Sweetheart, I wonder what you’re doing, or if you’re home. I imagine you are – if so, I hope you called my folks. My own day is something I can’t talk about – and that reminds me, dear – I haven’t been here long, but we’ve already had 4 or 5 versions of censorship and at this point I’m all confused. The very latest is that about everything we’ve written so far shouldn’t have been written, and that undoubtedly everything was held up to be returned or merely confiscated. If that is so, darling, I don’t know what letters you’ve already received from me, dear, – if any. If you haven’t received very many – remember that it wasn’t because I didn’t write.

Perhaps in a few days, dear, we may be able to get an SOP (standard operating procedure) as to what we actually can or cannot say. At this particular time it consists of nothing in the line of news.

Yet, dear, despite the fact that the other fellows insist there’s no sense in writing now and consequently don’t – I feel that I want to commune with you as much as I can, and somehow, when I sit down to write you a few lines, I feel just that much closer to you, darling. I haven’t been away from you for a very long time – as time goes, but I miss you, dear, like I didn’t believe possible. It’s a healthy longing, though – which creates many many pleasant thoughts about the future. My love for you, darling, will be saved and stored just for you. Of that be certain, because I am. The thought of you never leaves my mind for a moment dear, and for that I am very thankful. It’s easy to get lonesome out here – but when I think back to home and you I get a wonderful lift. I pray dear that the reverse is true.

Right now – I must be on my way. I won’t close this letter – because from experience I’ve already learned of the changing censorship rules. So long for now, Sweetheart

Greg

[Note from FOURTHCHILD: This letter is continued on 26 November.]

24 November, 1943

Greg's first V-Mail to Wilma was censored only
with regard to the date, which was inked out.

Written 24 November, 1943.

Postmarked 15 December at 10 pm.
Received 23 December, 1 month later.

CLICK ON IMAGES TO ENLARGE


[Note from FOURTHCHILD:
V-Mail images have been edited to keep them anonymous.

The letter is transcribed below.

V-MAIL

438^th AAA AW BN

APO 4916 c/o Postmaster N.Y.

Nov. 24, 1943

Somewhere in England

Darling,

Arrived safely. The trip was very pleasant dear. I have written you more about it, but I wanted this to get to you sooner.

Have not yet received any of your mail, but expect I will very soon now. Hope you had a happy birthday. I had no way of celebrating while aboard ship, Sweetheart – but I was thinking very hard.

I believe we’ll have a new A.P.O. soon, dear – but so far this is the only one to use. Will write more as soon as we get settled. That’s all for now.

All my love

Greg.

The following telegram was sent the same day
and received on the 6th of December, 1943.

23 November, 1943

[Note from FOURTHCHILD:

This letter was begun on ship on November 17th, 1943.

It was continued on November 20th
and completed in this portion, on the 23rd.]

Darling,

Since this won’t be mailed until the trip is over I believe I can say that it is almost over now. Someday, Sweetheart, I believe we ought to take a trip of some sort on water – perhaps a honeymoon, although I won’t insist on water of course. Really, if the ocean could be as calm always as it has been for us – I would never mind ocean traveling.

What lies ahead for our outfit no one knows, although various suggestions have been offered. We’ll just sit back and see.

I should be celebrating someone’s Birthday today, dear – but instead I’m riding the waves. Well – if I were celebrating something I couldn’t be any closer in mind even if I were right next to the party involved than I am right now – and regardless of distance – my sincerest wishes for a long and happy life.

I’d better stop now, darling. I wasn’t going to seal this until I got a new APO number, but no one is sure when we’ll get it, and if it is changed – the APO officials will forward mail anyway. I’ve been told that it takes as much as 3 weeks for regular mail or air mail to get to the States – but I’ll find out from you, dear.

Meanwhile – all I can say is that I miss you terribly dear and yet if it weren’t for our love – I don’t believe I would be facing the future with the feeling of hope and desire to get a job done with so I can get home and –

you know what.

My deepest love

Greg

22 November, 1943

No letter today.    Just this:

* TIDBIT *

R.M.S. Aquitania Menus

Greg's collection of Officers' menus from the Aquitania looks like a collection from a cruise of today. But what about a midday meal?

CLICK ON A MENU TO ENLARGE

21 November, 1943

[Note from FOURTHCHILD:
This letter was begun on ship on November 17th, 1943.
It continues as his passage continues across the Atlantic...]

Still at Sea –

(as to what to write)

without having it censored

Well, dear,

The voyage is still a pleasant one, the food is still good and everything seems safe. I haven’t done a thing but relax and I guess I needed it, because the last month or so was one of tension. So far I’m writing only to you and my folks. I’m not using V mail yet because there really isn’t much room to write.

[Note from FOURTHCHILD: These images are edited to keep them anonymous]

Below are a few things Greg sent home from the journey.


Aquitania Room Assignment - B Deck


Aquitania Mess Assignment - Second Sitting


Aquitania Berthing Assignment for
Greg's Medical Detachment - Section A11

20 November, 1943

No letter today.    Just this:

* TIDBIT *

about Weather During the Crossing

Wesley Ward, from upstate New York, served aboard the Aquitania in a gun crew during all of 1943 and after. In a small journal he wrote the following entries, which give added insight to Greg's crossing:

17 November 1943, Wednesday

- Left NY at 10:00AM. Cold as hell

18 November 1943, Thursday

- Cold

19 November 1943, Friday

- Cold as hell, headed toward Scotland

20 November 1943, Saturday

- Getting warmer, sea a little rough, rain

21 November 1943, Sunday

- Warm in gulf stream. Cleaned gun. Airplane school

22 November, 1943, Monday

- Sea little rough. Convoy attacked by 6 German planes,

100 miles from us

23 November 1943, Tuesday

- Sea high. Biggest rolling sea I ever saw

24 November 1943, Wednesday

- Got in Scotland at 6:30AM. Cold as hell. Tore gun down

Here is video of the Aquitania, with music of its time.

19 November, 1943

* TIDBIT *

about the R.M.S. Aquitania

The AQUITANIA, laid down in 1910 for Cunard by the John Brown and Company yards in Clydebank, Scotland, was the longest serving Cunard ocean liner built in the 20th century. In keeping with Cunard tradition, she was named after a Roman province, this one in southwest France. With the United Kingdom as her Port of Registry, the ship was originally planned to make North Atlantic crossings along with the Lusitania and Mauretania. Launched in April of 1913, it was the first liner equipped with enough lifeboats for every passenger, as the Titanic disaster occurred during her construction. The Aquitania left Liverpool on its maiden voyage on 30 May 1914, bound for New York.

Aquitania Set for Sea Trials

The most exceptional feature of the Aquitania, aside from its size, was the luxury of the interior passenger areas, which were far superior to anything seen on the North Atlantic before. The columned Palladian lounge and the Louis XVI-style first class dining room rose through two decks. The appearance of the large smoking rooms had been copied from the Royal Naval College in London. These fantastic interiors earned the Aquitania the nickname "Ship Beautiful." Some are shown in the postcards that follow.

CLICK ON IMAGES TO ENLARGE

Postcard of Cross Section, 1913

The ship made only two more voyages to New York before the outbreak of World War One, when it was refitted for military service along with other highly distinguished ships such as Queen Mary, Queen Elizabeth, Normandie and Île de France. After proving too large for use as an armed merchant cruiser, the Aquitania made three voyages as a WWI troop transport and then was converted to a hospital ship for use December 1915-January 1916 as well as November-December of 1916.The entry of the USA into the war in December 1917 brought the ship back into military service to transport the American Expeditionary Force.

Aquitania as Troop Carrier

Aquitania as Hospital Ship in World War I

The Aquitania went on to operate on the Southampton-Cherbourg-New York route, along with the Mauretania and Berengaria, and passenger accommodation was extensively modernized during annual re-fits. With improving times and ocean travel the only means of transportation across the oceans, she became one of the most profitable ocean liners in history.

Postcard of a Painting of the R.M.S. Aquitania

Some of the big money now came in from movie stars and royalty, other aristocracy and politicians, as the 1920s became one of the most profitable ages in ocean travel history. The Aquitania's plush and extravagant interiors remained reminiscent of an era which had been largely diminished by years of war. Even as the Roaring 20's ushered in the era of art deco, Aquitania held fast to the ideals of the early floating palaces throughout all her refits.

Postcard of the Aquitania Leaving New York

In 1932 the Aquitania was used as a pleasure cruise ship for the first time, cruising in the Mediterranean and from New York to Bermuda. Requisitioned as a troop transport on 21 November 1939, at first it was used to transport Canadian troops. During 1940 it underwent a refit in America and was defensively armed with six inch guns. From March onwards it was based in Sydney transporting Australian and New Zealand troops, also making two passages between Pearl Harbour and San Fransisco. For the remainder of the war it was employed on the Atlantic, carrying 10,000 soldiers to war with each Scotland-bound crossing,  and carrying the wounded home on her return to New York.  The Aquitania then served to bring of Canadian and American troops home after the fall of Germany.

Aquitania painted wartime gray.

On April 1st 1948 the Aquitania was released by the Admiralty and once again wore her Cunard colors. After a quick refit for passenger service, the Canadian government chartered the ship to carry emigrants from Southampton to Halifax. Fleeing the war-torn cities of Europe, thousands of people fled Europe to seek a new life in Canada. By December of 1949 this role had been fulfilled, and later that month Cunard announced that the Aquitania would be withdrawn from service.

Toward the end of her service her funnels were
painted but the wartime gray remained.

She had served ever since 1914, carried out her duties in two major conflicts and steamed over three million miles, completing nearly 450 voyages. In January of 1950 the vessel's furnishings and equipment were auctioned. Later that month the ship was sold to the British Iron & Steel Corporation Ltd for £125,000. The Aquitania then sailed from Southampton to Faslane, in Scotland where it was broken up.

Her four funnels gone forever, the Aquitania is scrapped.

R.M.S. AQUITANIA
SPECIFICATIONS
Gross Tonnage - 45,647 tons
Length – 901 Feet (275.2m)
Beam – 97 feet (29.6m)
Draft – 36 feet (11m)
Number of funnels - 4
Number of masts - 2
Construction - Steel
Propulsion – Quadruple-screw (4 shafts, 4 propellers)
Engines - Geared steam turbines; 59,000 shp
Accommodations – 3,230 passengers; 972 crew
Service speed - 23 knots;  6 days across Atlantic

LINKS

Facts and photos here overlapped on many
web sites, but some sites are most worth mentioning.

Victoria and Albert Museum's Inside an Ocean Liner: The Aquitania
A postcard collection at Great Ships - Aquitania