15 January, 1944

438^th AAA AW BN

APO 527 % Postmaster, N.Y.

England

January 15, 1944   1530

My dearest Wilma –

Saturday afternoon again and still not immune from the thought of the delight and joy I once derived when Saturday used to roll around. I’ve missed several of them now, but I’m not getting accustomed to it. The reverse is true, I fear. My longing for you seems to become more acute and keenly felt, darling, regardless of how time slips by and becomes the past. Despite the fact that one day is like another, I can’t seem to overlook the identity of Saturdays, Sundays or Holidays.

I wonder sometimes whether I was fully appreciative of the pleasures I enjoyed after meeting you, sweetheart. Each week-end was a full one and more so as I think of them now, because they stand the test of time and retrospection. And paradoxically enough, the more pleasant the retrospection, the more acute the remembrance – the worse is the longing, the missing, the wanting.

Dearest, I’ve never wanted anyone the way I want you. Distance is not the factor, because I wanted you when I was home. Perhaps distance gives one the chance to analyze things more clearly, subjectively. I think so, because although I believe I had things pretty well figured out before, they are now crystallized in my mind as undeniable facts. I suppose I tell you all this over and over again, dear, in my letters, but I’ve got to do it. Because I feel so much better when I write it as well as think it.

To say that you, darling, on the other side of the fulcrum from war, give me stability, is to put it mildly. The stagnancy, the inactivity, the lonesomeness here would just be intolerable if I didn’t have you and my thought for our future. Darling – you will just have to excuse me for always reminding you of this – won’t you dear?

These days are becoming very very boring and long and there’s just no two ways about it. Yesterday evening was long and quiet – the same old thing, dear, sitting around and letting the hours creep by until it was time to go to bed. I’m not due for O.D. at the hospital until sometime next week, but one of the doctors who is on tonight wanted to go out tonight so I offered to take his duty. Maybe I’ll get some work. It’s a Saturday night and there might be some fights. (I’m getting gruesome.)

I managed to get two letters last night – one from Stan written Dec. 24th and one from a Dr. G. from Salem – who is now a Commander in the Navy – on duty in the Pacific.

Stan’s letter told of his busy days before Christmas and of his plans for New Year’s Eve at Harvard, Mass. with the Fines and some other people. It sounded good but didn’t particularly help me feel more cheerful, I must admit. He did say, however, that the party would be more complete were I coming along, and that was a nice thought.

Stuart G. practices in Salem on Chestnut Street and is one of the swellest men practicing in town. I know you’ll think so when you meet him and his wife. They were both always friendly, very much so, to me – and I was invited to dinner at his house several times because they knew I was alone at mealtimes. If Stuart had an interesting medical case (he practiced internal medicine only) he would often call my office during office hours and say that he had an interesting heart or some such thing to listen to and that if I would drop down to his office after hours – he would hold the patient there. He referred a lot of work to me and all in all was a real friend. I know you’ll like him, darling – and of course – I know he’ll like you. I always felt that when I was married I would like to reciprocate the G.’s friendliness – and I’m sure you’ll want to also, dear.

Well – I better stop now, Sweetheart. Excuse the occasional ‘blue’ tone, will you dear? Honestly darling everything adds up to one important thing – that I love you very very much and can’t tell you often enough.

No letter for several days now, dear – but I’m waiting as patiently as I know how.

All my deepestlove

Greg

Regards to everyone

Love

G.

14 January, 1944

438^th AAA AW BN

APO 527 % Postmaster, N.Y.

England

January 14, 1944      1100

Dearest darling Wilma –

I’m enjoying a short pause in my morning’s activities and I thought I’d start a letter to you. You are so omnipresent in my mind, dear, that with the first free moment in a day – my first reaction is to write you.

If the lines are crooked, sweetheart, excuse it please. I’ve been writing so long on my fancy lined paper that I find myself concentrating on trying to write a straight line. This paper isn’t much better – but as a matter of fact, paper is quite a problem in England and stationery is just about unobtainable. So G-I paper comes in handy.

I really expected a letter or two from you last night, but none came. It was one of the fullest, longest evenings I’ve spent since we arrived here, darling. There was no movie on – and the only entertainment was a U.S.O. show which was visiting here. Somehow I didn’t feel like going to that. A few of the fellows did – and consequently there were only 3 of us around our recreation room most of the evening. I listened to the radio and sat in an easy chair, with my eyes shut – just thinking of you and home. Always, darling, I find myself noting the day, date and hour and imagining what we, you and I, would be doing if I were in the U.S. (Note: it always ends up satisfactorily!)

A month from now is Valentine’s Day and I’ve already hunted high and low for something as a remembrance – Sweetheart – England is cleaned out of everything. It’s amazing. I can’t even find a Dunhill pipe – which I wasn’t particularly interested in buying, but which I like to look at. Nevertheless I don’t give up too easily and as a substitute I’m having something made right here in camp – just as a little token, dear. Now there’s no sense in asking me what it is – because I’ll only tell you just as much as I want to. You’ll just have to wait, sweetheart. I suppose it isn’t fair to tease you over a little thing like this. One of my boys is making it and he got the idea (with my help, naturally) from some boys in the Air Corps. I will further enlighten you, darling, by telling you that it’s made out of glass – not ordinary glass – but plexi-glass, from the nose of a Flying Fortress. It’s really interesting to see what can be done with it – but that’s all, darling, no more will I say. After all – you went and guessed what I was giving you for your birthday – and trifling as it is – I’ll be darned if you can guess what this is. It ought to be ready soon – and I’ll send it our immediately. If it reaches you before February 14th – I know of course that you’ll wait until then, dear. (heh, heh)

There are other ways of being remembered on Valentine’s Day, darling, but being in England does not help one bit. However – but that’s all, definitely!

This afternoon I have nothing particularly to do, dear, except kill time – which is very difficult to do these days. Late afternoon I begin hounding the mail clerk –

1430

Darling, I was interrupted and then lunch hour was on hand. I’ve just finished a couple of details – and I’ll try to finish this, this time. You know, dear, there’s one subject I’ve been neglecting to remind you of – namely – that of kisses. I might pun and say that’s a ‘sore’ subject with me – but since you were never really affected, I’ll not mention it. However I figure that I owe you, you owe me – or anyway you want to put it – exactly 4006 kisses. Now you just can’t take a pencil and paper, put down 69 days since I last saw you, divide that into 4006 and get a daily average of 58.1 kisses. No dear, it’s not that simple – because several factors enter into it. For one thing, you don’t ration kisses in such a manner that you end up a day saying, “well 52 kisses, 6.1 more to go”. I think you’ll grant me that.

The subject actually brings into question – moods, situations, how much of a day I might have been near you etc. How I arrived at 4006 for a grand total to date, will have to remain my secret for the time being, sweetheart. Suffice it to say, I would settle for 3000 in cash kisses right now – but not less, mind you. And remember, darling, when I return – there will be the current kisses to take care of beside those in arrears. I thought it only fair to remind you.

Wouldn’t just one little kiss taste so wonderful, right now!! Ah well – I’m trying to mix the present with the future, and I guess that’s not the way the game is played. I’ll wait it out, darling, but you can’t blame a guy for thinking, can you? That’s all for now, my sweetheart and

All my love

Greg

Regards to all the family.

L.

G.

* TIDBIT *

about The B-17 Flying Fortress

Here is a 10 minute video about the Memphis Belle, a B-17 Flying Fortress made famous by the movie made about it. At several points there are good shots of the plexi-glass nose like the one from which Greg had a gift made for Wilma. As for the mission, pretty scary stuff.

13 January, 1944

[Note from FOURTHCHILD:
Apologies for the delay in this letter.
Internet connection problems on the thirteenth!]

438^th AAA AW BN

APO 527 % Postmaster, N.Y.

England

Thurs. January 13, 1944 1400

Dearest sweetheart –

Yesterday evening, just when I needed it most, I got a letter from you, a V-mail dated December 27. It was written late one evening when you had expected not to be able to write to me because of a busy day which you had coming up, but you did write the next day, too, darling, because I’ve already received that letter.

Bless your heart, dear, if you want a number, you can have one and if I thought it helped one bit, I’d write it all over the envelope. The mail is slow, dear, but even sporadically – it’s wonderful just getting a letter. There must be another bunch due because they’ve been very scattered this past week. I still haven’t received several from the second 10 days of December, and I’m still driving our mail clerk crazy each day asking him whether or not anything that might contain a swell picture has arrived for me. I drive him crazy, sweetheart, because I ask him twice a day, regularly, and of course he goes after the mail only once a day. But one of these days – it will come, and when it does, the whole outfit is very certain to hear about it.

What do you have in mind for a job, darling – I mean outside of being my wife, partner, secretary and constant companion and sweetheart? I do think it would help the time slip by better and swifter and get you out of the house. It’s a shame to hire your talents out to a stranger, though, when I could do with you so well right now. Whatever you do, darling, don’t promise anyone how long you’ll stay, because after all, I have some priority.

Last night I dreamed of you again, dear. I dream of you very often, now – and it’s so nice – as perhaps you know yourself. Most of the dreams are hazy and indistinguishable come morning, but I’m always aware of a pleasant undertone and that, of course, is a good sign. Always, in them, we are together (in every sense of the word) and we belong to each other – that fact is always established. So who am I to argue with my subconscious mind?

Last night I played bridge and my partner and I got taken – badly. It’s a good thing we don’t play for anything. Our opponents – by the way – made a Grand Slam, actually, dear, but unfortunately for them – they only bid 4 Spades. We just couldn’t get a decent bidding hand all night. The night before we saw the movie at the Officers’ Club – “No Time for Love” with Colbert and MacMurray. I hadn’t seen it – so I enjoyed it. It was a light comedy with nothing about war in it. Tonight I understand “This is the Army” is being shown – and if so, I’ll go see it with Pete. Incidentally I usually fail to tell you that I pass your regards on to Pete and Charlie. Actually – in our present set-up – neither is in the immediate vicinity of our headquarters – but Pete isn’t too far off – and I manage to see him rather frequently.

I haven’t heard from Stan since I mentioned it some time ago, but I imagine things are going along the same way. I expect to hear from Irv F. soon, because I wrote him some time ago. I have heard from a few people in Salem that I had written to and things are about the same there, it seems. Incidentally, the K.s still have open house Saturday nights – and our place is being kept open, as well as the one remaining bottle of Tequila which Ethel K. is saving.

Darling, I’ve got to run along now and take care of a couple of things. I had a busy night at the hospital – having to get out of bed 3 times – once to sew up a fellow who had been in a fight, once to take care of a fellow with a dislocated knee, and finally to admit a fellow with pleurisy. Total income for that – pre-war – would be worth about $13-15; total result last night – experience and lost sleep. But what the heck – I’ll make up for it. Darling, I know you’re lonesome – and so am I, for you – but it’s a pleasant lonesomeness and one which I know will culminate in long happiness for both of us. I know we will appreciate each other even more – for having been separated. So a stiff upper lip, sweetheart, and for now –

All my love – Greg

Regards to all

L

G.

12 January, 1944

438^th AAA AW BN

APO 527 % Postmaster, N.Y.

England

Wed. January 12, 1944 1400

Dearest and only sweetheart –

I’m at the hospital now – sitting in the O.D. room at a small desk. I’m facing the window and as I look out it’s gray and raw-looking, dear; but I’m looking westward and projecting myself all the way back to Boston and Newton. It’s just off there – in the horizon, between those two old fir trees. What a wonderful mechanism, darling, is the so-called mind’s eye! I can actually picture myself getting out of my car, clicking my heels up your cement walk, reaching for the bell, trying to hear the gong and then waiting those few impatient seconds until I caught sight of you; then a short kiss with a quick glance behind to see if the outside door were shut and the neighbors not peek-a-booing. I can see that, sweetheart, right out in front of me right now – and I even find myself wondering whether you’re wearing a sweater and skirt, a black dress – or perhaps the deep purple one with the long V neck. It rarely made any difference to me, darling, because you always looked lovely to me.

But what would I be doing over at your house on a Wednesday afternoon? Well – let’s suppose it was our house on a Wednesday afternoon; I would have by now finished my morning’s work and no office hours Wednesdays! But heck – it’s cold and certainly no day for golf. Well – I don’t mind, dear. Oh – so you’re glad, are you? Really. I am too. It’s a swell day to spend together; where will we go? You know, dearest – that will probably go on from 1400-1630 and we won’t even leave the house. What will we be doing? I’m going to let you do a little supposing, too, darling. Anyway – it’s about time to dress – I mean for going out in the evening, of course – so we do and go out to have a few cocktails, dinner, theater, bridge – or anything else that might have been arranged. Gosh, dear, it’s getting late, what do you say we head for home? No argument?

Sweetheart – the rest of today here in England will be pleasant for me because I’m going to allow myself to stay in this mood – if you don’t mind. Do you think I’m entirely too imaginative, dear? Maybe I am, but it helps smooth over the mental rough spots manifested by lonesomeness and longing –

A night doesn’t go by, darling, but what I fall asleep with thoughts of you and me together. I swear, living with you when we’re married is going to be the most natural and normal thing in the world because in my imagination I have covered every conceivable situation and from every angle, and if anything was ever better set-up for two people, I’d like to hear about it. I’ve had you go so many places with me, do so many things with me, meet so many people – that it’s going to seem strange to me, I think, to have to re-introduce you to some of them. And what a thrill I’m going to get when I an actually introduce you as my wife!

‘My wife’ – something I’ve wanted to be able to say for a long time; And how happy I am that you are the one I’m going to be able to call that! Do you remember, dear, the first time we went to Salem? Well – it was on the way back, coming through the tunnel that I first felt something peculiar. I know I hardly knew you and all that, but running through my mind at that moment, fleetingly to be true, was the thought that you were the type of girl I’d like to marry. I will not say I loved you, then, because I still insist you just don’t ‘fall in love’ with someone on such short notice. But even at that time, darling, I was aware of your fine qualities. I liked the freedom of your visit, your ease and good nature. All these things impressed me quickly and darling it was so easy to fall in love with you! And staying in love with you is so wonderful that I often wonder if I’m worth the happiness. Sweetheart – if I could write the things I think while I’m away, you’d be amazed at the span of my emotion. If you’ll save some of my letters, we’ll pull them out a few at a time some cold night when we’re sitting around – and I’ll think back to each and tell you in person what I tried to convey at times in my letters –

Darling – I guess I didn’t write much about the news; there isn’t any and anyway I just felt like writing about you and me. I’ll write again, Sweetheart, and I truly hope you realize how much I love you and miss you and want you. For now, dear

All my love

Greg.

11 January, 1944

438^th AAA AW BN

APO 527 % Postmaster, N.Y.

England

January 11, 1944    1245

Dearest sweetheart –

I have just finished my lunch and am resting comfortably in a large soft chair. I was just about to read the daily Stars and Stripes, but I felt like writing to you first, dear. The Stars and Stripes is just for soldiers and costs us about a cent and a half a day. It has 4 to 6 pages and contains the latest news of the world, plus news of interest to soldiers in the European Theater of Operations, plus Li’l Abner and Terry and the Pirates – and that’s something darling, after reading the cartoon-less English dailies. We also have the “Yank” – British Edition, which comes out once a week and cost threepence or a nickel. I’ve tried sending you the “Yank” – but I don’t know yet whether it will get to you, dear.

Yesterday, again, was a long slow day. When I got through writing you – and my folks, I wrote Grandma B. a short note; then I wrote Col. P. a rather long letter. I had heard from him the day before from Fort Bliss. He’s rather discouraged about not getting anywhere. He’s so disappointed at still being in the U.S. – and yet having been a soldier in both wars. I envy him, though, in a way. He mentioned, for example, that he had called his wife, Anne, a few days before. Next to seeing you, Sweetheart, that’s the one thing I would like to do most. Yesterday I heard a rumor that it was possible to call – but I’m having it investigated today by our Special Service Officer.

I wrote your mother – the other day, having received a very nice V-mail from her. I think it is swell of her to write me, and I told her so.

In the evening – it was the same routine, i.e. – ping-pong, darts and bridge. We’ve been playing a little bridge every other night or so – and I guess that’s the only way to really learn the game. I think I’m getting to know it better, but I still have a long way to go before I become a good player.

I got to bed at about 2245 and Bruce and I (he’s Battery Commander – Headquarters Battery) got to talking about home. He had had a girl friend and they were pretty intimate. One day while we were still at Edwards – he received a note that she was a member of the Waves – just like that. When he tried to contact her, she made no attempt to meet him half way. It was a pretty rotten trick, and to this day he doesn’t know what really happened.

Then I got to talking about you, Sweetheart; what you looked like, how you talked and laugh, the good companion you are, the things we planned to do after the war, and so on. Bruce said “You really love her, don’t you?”; and I said “Hell, man, you don’t think I’d marry a girl I didn’t love, do you?” Well, he opined that I wouldn’t, and I went on from there, outlining our life in Salem and the things we could look forward to. I honestly think I made the poor fellow envious, or at least sad. I hadn’t intended to do either. Anyway I can assure you darling that it’s wonderful to realize that you do have someone so dear to you at home who feels the same way about you as you do of her. I’ve said that over and over again, darling, but I still can’t impress you with the mental satisfaction and pleasure derived from that thought. Why I was lucky enough to meet you, darling, I don’t know, but I am certain I’ll do everything I can to appreciate the good fortune. You are becoming so much a part of me as each day goes by, that I find it almost unbelievable that I was really alone so long dear. I’ve never really experienced the sense of togetherness that I am now – and it’s wonderful!

Well – I have to run along now dear. I’m going up to the Station hospital and see some of our boys who have been sick. Hope I hear from you this evening. Meanwhile, darling, my sincerest love is yours –

Greg

Regards to the family and Mary

Love

G.

* TIDBIT *

about The Stars and Stripes

The following article was copied directly from a former web site, with credit to the author:

The Stars and Stripes
Written by Dante Murphy

Popular with the troops and seasoned with experienced journalists and authors, the Stars and Stripes was the officially-approved newspaper of the American armed services during World War II. Published simultaneously in England, Europe, and finally the Pacific in the latter part of 1945, the newspaper stands out for having accomplished two vital missions. It was "for the soldiers", and also became a "...symbol of the things we are fighting to preserve and spread in this threatened world." The name on the masthead was not new, being used various times and on different papers from the American Civil War up through World War I. This particular edition started out in London with less than ten men, growing to hundreds on staff by the end of the war. Initially published just for the American troops stationed in Ireland in 1942, its appeal soon grew enough to become a daily 8-page paper aimed at all the American forces in the European and Italian theater of operations. This popularity did not go unnoticed by those in command—General Eisenhower himself had "...considered it the greatest influencing factor for the soldier in the Army...."

Correspondent Ernie Pyle

A newspaper is only as good as its staff, and the Stars and Stripes soon found journalistic talent of all types applying to work in any capacity possible. In many cases, new staffers had been doing similar jobs in their old outfits, such as editing the camp newspaper or the division newsletter. Upon hearing of the Stars and Stripes, they reached for the opportunity to work at a real newspaper for the first time — or, in some cases, to do what they had done while civilians. In fact, the staff — and the papers that some of them had already worked at—represented a veritable Who's Who of the journalistic world at that time. Bob Moora hailed from the New York Herald Tribune. Ben Price, one of the founding group, hailed from the Des Moines Register. Other newspapers represented included the Detroit Free Press, New York Daily News, New York World Telegram, New York Times, and others. In addition to regular staff, many others contributed to the paper as well, be it through a regular column or special "news" events. Some of these famous contributors included the columnist Ernie Pyle, author Ernest Hemingway, cartoonist Bill Maudlin, and correspondent Andy Rooney.

A Young Andy Rooney

Andy Rooney was perhaps best known for his years on the 60 Minutes television show, but are not aware that he served in World War II and was on the staff of the Stars and Stripes. One of his most famous series of articles came about when he was on assignment with the 8th Air Force. Said Rooney, "Each story I wrote about heroism, mess sergeants, mascot dogs, or death in the air represented a hundred stories just like those at another base." He went on to write many other articles for the Stars and Stripes, including several memorable ones covering the D-Day landing. Rooney, Maudlin, Pyle and Hemingway offered a balance to the typical "hard news" that usually ran in the paper, and their ideas and topics were sprinkled throughout in columns and/or special inserts. Typical of these special sections was the insert War Week. Topics ranged from lessons on how to fight in winter weather and the cold to coverage of those flying in the Army Air Corps.

 

Willie and Joe

The December 9, 1944 War Week focused on one thing—mud! Pulitzer Prize winning cartoonist Bill Maudlin was also a regular feature in the Stars and Stripes, with his cartoons appearing several times a week. His Willie and Joe characters came to symbolize the ordinary infantry soldier's lot during the war, poking fun at the leadership and expressing the frustration of every private on the ground. His efforts were not without controversy at times—one cartoon precipitated a meeting with General Patton, who thought what Maudlin had drawn was disrespectful! Just beyond reach of the limelight were dozens of correspondents and reporters who, while not as famous, provided stories of courage and bravery and despair for the newspaper. Ernie Leiser's description of the devastated city of Berlin made front page headlines at the end of the war. Another reporter, Thomas Hoge, was actually taken prisoner by the Germans, spending time in captivity. He made his way to freedom, and his experiences resulted in articles describing life behind the wire as a prisoner. Other stories detailed accounts ranging from notable battles to interviews with visiting Hollywood actors.

Besides the news, weekly columns and special inserts, other sections of the paper included sports—one of the more popular sections for the troops—wire service news, and the ever-popular comics, with well-known strips such as Li'l Abner, Terry and the Pirates, Dick Tracy and others. Rounding out the paper were the B-Bag — soldier's letters to the paper/editors — and Hashmarks, a regularly appearing humor column.

Publishing any paper can be a harrowing experience. Publishing a daily newspaper in multiple combat zones can be dangerous to one's sanity. Unlike a local paper stateside, the Stars and Stripes was published at more than one place, with more than one edition. After starting out in London, other editions were printed as the war progressed, including the Saint-Mere Eglise edition (from Paris) and, eventually, the German editions. Each had its own headlines, staff and unique take on the war. One of the biggest challenges was the actual production of the paper. Paper, ink and presses were needed to put out the physical product. While in friendly territory, such as London, this was a manageable task. However, for the European based editions, especially those still near the combat zone, this was a dicey proposition at best. Historian Ken Zumwalt, in his book, The Stars And Stripes, mentions this example: "As they entered Liege, they found the railroad yards smoking from buzz-bomb hits....Bombers of the Luftwaffe streaked across the sky....For nine days the eight men scoured the burned city for printing facilities...."

All the toil and danger was worth it. The Stars and Stripes was a touch of stateside civility in a soldier's vernacular, both familiar and evocative. The men came to rely upon the paper as much more than a source of headlines and box scores; it was a trusted compatriot that would be with you to the end. It's kept that promise, and is still going strong today, publishing daily in areas all across the globe.

10 January, 1944

438^th AAA AW BN

APO 527 % Postmaster, N.Y.

England

January 10, 1944   1345

Darling Wilma -

I had a pleasant surprise this noon in the form on an unexpected letter, – unexpected because we don’t usually get our mail until about 1700. This was a letter inadvertently sent to the wrong post-office but immediately returned here. And it was recent, too, darling – written on December 28th. It’s sweet of you, dear, to take stationery along even when you’re visiting. I know that I don’t feel as if I’ve completed the day, sweetheart, until I’ve written to you – and it’s nice to realize that you apparently feel the same way.

Yesterday was a dismal, rainy, long Sunday and the afternoon and evening seemed interminable. But we managed to get through it and here it is the start of another week. We – i.e. – about 7-8 of us stayed around the Officers’ Club – our own I mean – all day. I read an old issue of Time Magazine, Dec. 20th, and I appreciate that magazine even more than I used to. Now that you’re out of school, dear, you could do worse than to read it from cover to cover. It really keeps one up to date and intelligently, too.

We played some Ping-Pong, darts and Bridge, of course. Surprisingly enough – none of us has played poker since coming to England, and it’s just as well. If you lose your money, you’re stuck – because you just can’t draw any checks and you have to wait until the following month.

You certainly made my mouth water, darling, at your mention of Smorgasbord. That’s something you can’t get over here these days. It’s surprising how you get used to getting by on your 3 meals a day and that’s all. There’s no dropping around the Px for a coke or a bar of Hershey. There just isn’t any of it here.

In re-reading your letters, too, sweetheart, I always like the part about the future because that’s what I’m living for, and I’m always so keenly interested in your thoughts about it. It does my heart and mind so much good to read that your mind, too, is pre-occupied with our future life together – and I know we’ll be happy. You are very complimentary, darling, in your writing when you say I’m ‘sweller’ than any one you’ve ever met. I know you’ve met a lot of nice fellows, darling, and if you still feel that I’m the nicest – well all I can say is that I’m very happy – whatever the reasons are.

You asked me once whether I had seen Eliot. Well, after much chasing around I have managed to locate his whereabouts. He’s about 90-100 miles from here, but in this country it can take the good part of a day going that distance by train – I may try to meet him in London some day.

Your Grandmother B. is very sweet to remember me, dear, as are all your relatives whose regards you’ve sent. I laughed out loud the other day when you wrote that the various members of your family sent their regards, as well as the neighbors, etc. Darling – I don’t know your neighbors yet – but send them my regards, too.

I shall certainly drop your Grandmother a note, dear – and really I am glad that you think she likes me. I want all of your relatives to like me – because I know that fact will make you happy. And you can tell your Grandmother that there’s not the slightest chance in the world that I may “look for somebody else”. I did a lot of looking before I made up my mind, but when I did, I’m not going to change it. I’m glad you’ve told your family that you intend to marry me – because I want them all to know that we really are serious. I’ve never in my life been more so, dear – and when I get back and we’re married, we’ll have such a happy life together – that we’ll be the envy of everyone, dear. We’ll have so much to do, I can hardly wait to get started, but something really worth having, is worth waiting for, too, and Sweetheart, I’m waiting for you.

Best regards to everyone, dear – and for now

All my deepest love

Greg.

* TIDBIT *

TIME from December 20th, 1943

Greg mentioned reading this issue of Time and suggested to Wilma that she keep up with the magazine as a way to remain up-to-date intelligently. Taking a look at this issue opens a window to what he considered to be "intelligent." The December 20th publication of Time featured a portrait of Greer Garson on the cover. Inside, the Cover Story discussed her successes, including her role as Mrs. Miniver. The full contents included: Army & Navy, Battlefronts, Books, Business, Cinema, Education, Foreign News, Letters, Medicine, Milestones, Miscellany, Music, People, Press, Radio, Religion, Science, Theater, and U.S. at War. Here is a picture of that cover.

09 January, 1944

438^th AAA AW BN

APO 527 % Postmaster, N.Y.

England

Sunday, January 9, 1944 1045

Dearest sweetheart –

I’m getting an early start today. As I wrote you last night, I was O.D. I got up about 0800 this morning and only had a little bit of work to do. I’m now in my office and have just read a few articles in a medical journal. Then I felt like jotting a few lines to you, darling, and so here I am.

Last night was very quiet. Besides writing to you, dear, I finally wrote to Shirley, thanks to the last name which you supplied for me. I have no special interest in writing, but Stan asked me to, and that’s why I did. I also wrote to my brother-in-law and of course to my folks. I then went over to the Officers’ Club but there was very little doing.

I have just re-read your letter of the 24th of December, which came after the one of the 27th. I liked it very much, sweetheart, as I do all you letters. I see no reason at all dear for your being apologetic about your letters. I find them all enjoyable and interesting – regardless of the subject matter. I’m glad you like mine. The fact that you find them so coherent and concentrated – makes me wonder – I always hated composition in school, and I don’t believe I ever got higher than a B+, and then only once. I never could think of a subject to write about. So, darling, if you find my letters coherent – it must be because I like the subject matter, and that could be, dear, that certainly could be –

You mention an orchid, darling, and that must be the one I was wondering about. I’m glad you got it and I hope you liked it. Did it come in time? Had I received some of your earlier letters, dear, I probably would have known about it before now.

Oh, in reference to my statement about Shirley F., namely that I thought she was playing it cozy, I made that remark because that’s the way the situation seems to me. Stan wrote that he keeps seeing her – but nowhere in his letter could I gather that he was making any more headway, than last summer, for example. Now if she doesn’t intend to become engaged to him someday, she’s playing him for a sucker – because he’s spending a lot of money on her, and I happen to know, more than he can afford. He may be considering it a good investment. I suppose that’s not a fair statement, dear, but I can talk freely with you. The point is that you remember how he decided whether or not he was in love with her.

If she does intend to marry him, why doesn’t she give him an inkling or something to hang his hat on? She’s playing it cozy because she won’t commit herself one way or another. Of course – they may have an understanding between them, but if so, Stan didn’t leave that implication. However that’s their problem, dear, and they’ll no doubt work it out for themselves.

No – you did not play it cozy, and darling, that’s another one of the things – in a long list – that I liked about you from the start. You were quite frank in everything; if you liked something, you said so, and vice versa. I’ve always tried to be straightforward myself and like it in others. I’m glad you weren’t coy or cozy, dear. After all, if we cared for each other – and it was soon obvious that we did, why beat around the bush? I wanted to see you every opportunity I could and you reacted the same way. I know it must be difficult to have a girl fall in love with someone who is going away soon, dear, and I admire your courage and faith in allowing yourself to do just that. I hope and pray that you will never regret it. If it’s in my power, you won’t – either. As for my being reserved, darling, just wait and see, wait and see! But thanks in advance for your promised cooperation. Boy oh boy! – is all I can say now. So long for now, Sweetheart. I love you more with each passing day and I’m dreaming of the day when we can be together again.

Regards to the family

All my love

Greg

P.S. My wife is not dumb, darling, and you can’t say that about her!

Love

G.