19 December, 1943

438^th AAA AW BN

APO 527 % Postmaster, N.Y.

Sunday, Dec 19, 1943 1700

England

Darling Wilma –

This must have been a thrilling day in your lifetime – and I hope – a happy one too. I’ve wanted to write all day – but I spent most of it just thinking about you and home and your folks and us. Believe me, dear, I was with you in spirit and every other type of communication except physical. I hope you had some inner feeling dear that I was with you.

CLICK ON IMAGES TO ENLARGE

And now, I suppose, back home for good – or rather until I can take you with me to our own place. Did you move out today or did your plans call for a later removal, dear? And how much time are you taking off before you start some kind of work? No doubt you’ve been writing the answers to these questions before now.

Here – it was a quiet Sunday. The weekly schedule calls for a 7 day week here and things went on just about as usual. I spent most of the morning at the hospital, then an hour or two at the Club, and again back to the hospital. I got here a little while ago, dear, and am going to dress for supper – or rather dinner. Among other things – at our evening meal we are obliged to wear our blouse and pinks. It’s all quite formal, I assure you, darling.

After we eat – there’s a recorded concert at one of the buildings near here – and several of us are going over. I’m going to stop writing now, dear, but I’ll continue later.

2200

Hello darling!

I just got back from the Club. After our supper we played billiards for awhile. I know very little about the game – but it helps pass the time. Then we saw some Russian war films – non-fictional and very vivid. I hadn’t been at the Club before – so late in the evening – but on our way out there was a buffet set-up with sandwiches, dough-nuts and coffee. I tell you darling it’s going to be hard to be a real soldier again. Now I’m in my room once more and getting ready to go to bed.

Today I heard from someone in the battalion that one of the soldiers finally received a letter addressed with APO 515 and not 4916. That means that figuring about 8 days for V mail, he must have been heard from somewhere around the 10th of Dec. I hope only that you heard from me by that time, dear – and not later. I know it must be damned difficult writing letters and getting no answers – but I’m sure you’ll realize sweetheart – that every time you were writing, I was too – and very likely the same things were running through your mind as through mine.

I haven’t done as much visiting of towns since coming to England as I thought I would. I wrote of the places I’ve been to already, I believe. I still have to visit London and I intend visiting Cambridge and Oxford if I get the chance. Right now I see no reason for going traveling at all – it’s so convenient here. The minute you leave an Army station you meet difficulties in getting food, and traveling conditions on the whole are not very good. No one at all, it seems, drives a car; and dear – I mean no one. You just don’t see autos on the road at all.

Well, Sweetheart – it’s getting late, so I think I’ll stop for now. Here’s good luck and wishes for an interesting job and easy waiting for me to come back to you. I’m saving my love, all of it dear, for you – and when I do get back, I’ll be able to tell you in person just how much I do love you, darling.

For now – goodnight, dear and my

Deepest love

Greg

Wilma's Mount Holyoke College diploma is dated the 19th day of December (DIE XIX DECEMBRIS). In addition to marking 1943 (MCMXLIII) years since "man's redemption", (SALUTIS HUMANAE), the diploma marks 168 (CLXVIII) years of the American Republic(REIQUE PUBLICAE AMERICANAE).

18 December, 1943

438^th AAA AW BN

APO 527 % Postmaster, N.Y.

Dec 18, 1943   1400

England

Darling –

I’m in a hurry now and plan to write you later – but I can get this off in today’s p.m. mail – so I thought I’d jot down a few lines.

I can’t help but wonder what we’d be doing now if I were up at Holyoke with you getting ready for tomorrow. You’ll no doubt tell me everything, dear – and I’m anxious to hear about it.

This place is amazing for its conveniences. I’ll tell you about it when I write a regular letter, later.

That’s all for now, dear – and until later

All my love

Greg

Regards to the family

* TIDBIT *

about V-Mail (Victory Mail)

That V-Mail was faster to arrive than Airmail was never certain, but the tons of shipping avoided by photographing the mail, sending only reels of film, and then processing the film for delivery Stateside was substantial:

• 150,000 ordinary 1-sheet letters weighed 2,575 pounds in 37 mail sacks
• 150,000 V-Mail letters (as written) weighed 1,500 pounds in 22 mail sacks
• 150,000 V-Mail letters (microfilmed) weighed 45 pounds in a single mail sack

Therefore, using V-Mail was encouraged as a patriotic act, as can be seen from this comprehensive web site located in the Smithsonian Postal Museum Online Exhibit: Victory Mail at the Smithsonian Postal Museum.

V-Mail postcards, packaging and posters... all encouraged its use.


Postcard


Packaging


Posters

17 December, 1943

438^th AAA AW BN

APO 527 % Postmaster, N.Y.

Friday, Dec 17, 1943     2100

England

Dearest Sweetheart –

I hadn’t intended writing tonight dear because I believed I wouldn’t be settled, but here I am again. I didn’t want to lose a day and I don’t have to. In that connection, darling, let me thank you for your sweetness in writing me so constantly even though you haven’t heard from me at all. Your guess as to where I was at a certain time was almost correct. The fact is that I haven’t missed writing you dear since Thanksgiving Day – or did I mention that, dear?

I slowly and by ration method read the 4 letters I received from you the other day. The orchid seems to have lived longer than I thought they could – but at any rate, I’m glad you liked it.

You please me darling when you write that your mother and father are fond of me. That is just what I want, because I’m very fond of them too and don’t let anyone tell you, Sweetheart, that that isn’t a necessary prerequisite to a happy marriage – aside from other factors which we’ve discussed before – and satisfied?

I can understand now, darling, why you re-read my letters, good or bad. I do the same with yours now darling and I too get sad and yet happy when I put them all together and get their true significance. They mean Sweetheart that we’re in love with each other, that we want to be married – and that you’re willing to wait for me until I come back. That knowledge dear is what makes me so happy – the sad part being due to the fact you have to wait for me because of this damned war, and also because of the sweet sentiment you portray in your letters. The latter, dear, I cherish and look forward to with so much anticipation that I’m almost surprised myself.

V-Mail may be quicker, dear – but I don’t use it because somehow I don’t find it satisfactory. Sometimes regular mail takes 2-3 weeks, Air-mail 10 days to 3 weeks, and V-Mail 10 days to 2 weeks. They’re all mixed up and I don’t know. I like your letters as they are dear, as long as I get them.

On Thanksgiving Day I had K-Rations, dear – although I wouldn’t tell my mother or she’d be aggravated. On Christmas I think I’ll have a regular holiday meal from the way the set-up looks here.

I too envy anyone that resembles a couple in love, but what can we do about it. I still think that going overseas was a necessary evil and that any soldier hanging around in the States who doesn’t get over before the war’s end is going to feel left out afterwards. As for being your favorite pin-up man – I’d better hide your letter for fear someone might find it and read that, dear. I know darling that they’re none too sharp but I can’t help it. And I do wish your picture would arrive soon!

Gosh would I love to be going out with you tomorrow night, sweetheart! What would we do and where would we go? I leave the answers to you, dear. But don’t you worry, darling – we’ll be going and doing and having a wonderful time. Just sit tight, dear, and please try to feel that you’re not missing too much. I know what must be running through your mind from time to time – and I’m helpless to do a thing about it. All I can promise you dear is that I’ll do my best when we’re married to make up for any loneliness you had while I was away – and I think I can make it up to you, too, darling.

Sweetheart – there’s so much noise here and confusion I’ll have to stop. For tonight, several of the officers are living in one large barracks. We’ll get settled tomorrow in our own buildings.

In a day or two I’m hoping to hear from you again. I heard today that some of the fellows’ families received cablegrams on Dec 1st. I’m hoping you did, too. So long for tonight, darling, and

All my love for now

Greg

16 December, 1943

V-MAIL

438^th AAA AW BN

APO 515 % Postmaster, N.Y.

Dec 16, 1943

England

Wilma darling –

Just for variety’s sake and perhaps more speed, I’m sending this letter this way; Also, dear, because I’m very busy today and I wanted to make sure I get at least something out to you. I haven’t missed a day since Thanksgiving, but I won’t be able to write tomorrow. I wrote in an earlier letter what my new APO is to be. I repeat, dear, 527 and everything else the same. You can start using it right away.

Today was a very happy one, darling, for I received 4 letters from you, Nov 22, 23, 25, 26. It was a great struggle but I read only the first two, and I’m saving the other 2 for tomorrow. It’s the only way to avoid disappointment, for it seems our mail is bound to come in bunches. In that connection, when you do finally hear from me you ought to get a stack of mail.

I’m glad darling you got the orchid. I was afraid Carey’s might overlook it. I arranged for it the first week-end, no it must have been the second one – at Holyoke. I’m glad I did and I’m glad you liked it.

I’ll write more, dear, as soon as I’m settled again which should be in a day. The new APO no. has no far-reaching significance at all. For now, so long and

All my love

Greg

Regards to your folks

* TIDBIT *

about Carey's Flowers

Carey's Flowers has been a family owned business since 1912 and is still owned by the Carey family as of this writing. Located at 300 Newton Street, South Hadley, MA, this picture has been on their website.

15 December, 1943

438^th AAA AW BN

APO 515 % Postmaster, N.Y.

Wed. Dec 15, 1943       1000

England

Dearest Sweetheart –

I thought I’d write early today. Last night I waited for the mail before writing and when there was none for me I felt blue and as a result wrote you a sad-type letter. That is something, darling, that I should never do, and I’m sorry for it. By writing now, I can anticipate the coming of a letter and reflect some gaiety in what I say rather than disappointment.

Now, let’s see – what can I be gay about? To tell the truth, nothing particularly funny has happened here, that I can recall. I have to start most of it myself, as a matter of fact. The other day, at a so-called free hour for the battalion, assembled in one building, the party wasn’t doing too well. About half-past the hour I received a message to come quickly to that building. I took my stethoscope, thinking some one had either fainted or been hurt, but when I arrived the Colonel told me to get on the stage and entertain the boys. Well I did, in one way or another, dear.

By the way, darling, do you remember the one about the bald man who was in the restaurant and when he was brought his plate, took the vegetable and started rubbing his head with it? When the manager saw him, he approached him and wanted to know why he was doing that with the cabbage. “Oh!”, the man answered, “I thought it was Brussels Sprouts.” That, dear, is current in England now. I used to know a lot like that.

Well, today it’s pretty quiet around here. For one thing, sickness, thank goodness, is at a minimum; secondly, a good part of the outfit is away. That reminds me, darling, I’m getting a new APO number again in a couple of days. You can start using it anytime. The new number is 527. It has only slight significance and you can gather from its resemblance to 515 – that it is not an important and far-reaching change.

I just heard the news re-broadcast from N.Y. They give a summary here every morning and they include actual voice recordings of R.G. Swing, Paul Schubert and others – of the night before. It is nicely done and brings you right up to date with home. Incidentally, one of my radio tubes is weak and I’m afraid my radio may go on the bum soon. I’ve written my father, hoping he may be able to get one and send it out. It’s aggravating, because I was able to buy a battery for the radio the other day and was now fully equipped for electricity or battery.

An item in the news by the President, dear, must have been depressing to you – I refer to the estimate of 2 years for demobilization. Don’t get discouraged, darling. They usually demobilize by entire battalions, and it will undoubtedly be by seniority. My battalion is an old one and that would help. Anyway, we’d get married when I returned, in the Army or not, and we could live wherever I was stationed, until I got out. How does that sound? I haven’t expressed my opinion very much on the ending of the war – but this morning I feel optimistic – so I forecast the end of the European part of the war before my outfit ever gets into anything resembling real action.

Anyway you look at it Sweetheart, it will all turn out all right – for the very good reason that Fate will make it so for us. I have always felt that way about things I have wanted and felt I deserved. I don’t see why fate should quit on me now. I haven’t changed.

Ten days before Christmas, dear, and the days are slipping by; four days before your Graduation and I suppose the days can’t slip by fast enough to suit you. By the way, dear, are or rather did you have a picture of yourself taken in cap and gown? I hope you did, just for remembrance sake. I have some somewhere – not good, but a least a memento. If you’re over my house of an evening, have my mother show it to you. It’s very somber, as I recall it.

Sweetheart, that’s all in the line of chatter this a.m., except to remind you that I love you very much, Wilma and aim to marry you – or did I already propose to you? I have yet to ask your folks, by the way, but the pleasure will be all mine. So long for now, dear, and until later –

All my love

Greg

14 December, 1943

438^th AAA AW BN

APO 515 % Postmaster, N.Y.

Tuesday, Dec 14, 1943  1930

England

Darling Wilma –

I suppose I might as well tell you the truth; I’m horribly lonesome and my longing for you and your sweet company is beyond anything I imagined. I hate to write like this Sweetheart, but the last couple of days have seemed so utterly empty, I might as well get it out of my system. I insist I am not fundamentally unhappy because as I’ve said before, a person in love may be intermittently sad, moody, distraught or lonesome – but basically his love and its realization should make him a happy and lucky being. I feel that way, too, dear. If I didn’t – I couldn’t stand this aloneness which I guess every soldier must combat when he leaves home.

The days go by, one like the other. In this country, the blasted, gray, misty fog which apparently is always here, makes each day even more like the one it precedes or follows. I’m not really fed up with it so soon, darling, because my better sense tells me I don’t dare. I guess I’m just in love with you dear and long for you and your company. Thank the Lord for our memories. I see you all the time, near me, holding or squeezing my hand; glad to be with me as I was with you; riding around nowhere in particular but always enjoying it; visiting at your house and managing to get from the library to the living room where I could sit near you and give you what can only be described as a hurried hug; kidding with Mary and being chided by your mother for not knowing or caring about Bridge; wanting more and more each time I was with you to be alone with you, and when that was possible, enjoying it more and more; enjoying the physical contact because I knew already our intellectual desires were mutual and had wondered about the bodily –

Sweetheart – all these things come to me, over and over again; and more. Then why shouldn’t a fellow get lonesome when he has that to think about? How empty a life if that feeling doesn’t enter a person’s soul! Whatever you read into my writing, darling, please don’t get me wrong. I write this way, not to make you unhappy over my lonesomeness and not to make you feel sorry for me. If I thought either, I wouldn’t write like this. I’m just letting my thoughts come out as if you were here with me tonight and I was telling you how I felt about you and us, and life. I love you darling more than I knew. I know it’s easy to say a fellow writes a lot because he’s away. I’ve been almost as far away in the States from home as I am now, and I’ve never felt like this. I’ve merely had more time to think, and analyze my own reactions from the first night I met you – until right now. They all add up to what I’ve been writing about, dear – and I pray only that you always continue to feel about me the way you did when I left; that you’ll want me when the war is over as your husband, and that you won’t meet anyone while I’m away that will take you from me.

I remember well my reactions the first night I met you. You felt the same, I guess, dear – but on the way over to your house I said to myself “What in the world did I get a date for?” I was certain I wouldn’t have a very pleasant evening. And when I rang your doorbell, I was ready for anything. You answered the ring yourself, but I didn’t get a good look at you, but you wheeled around to get your coat and bag, and as you did I remarked mentally “Not bad!” And then we went on to have a very happy and joyous evening. And so it started and you must admit I never really let go of you until you loved me – although, darling, I remember when you accused me of being led into an ‘understanding’ with you.

It was a summer and fall, Sweetheart, that I’ll always remember, because it brought you to me and with you, a feeling I was beginning to believe I was to miss in life. Instead I am proud of you, and proud that you want to marry me. I love to refer to you as “my girl”, although I know that’s an ordinary way of putting it. In certain company, I say “my fiancée” and like to hear the fellows say, “and you, too?”

Do you think, dear, that this is all foolish prattle? Do you wonder perhaps that I never spoke this way to you and yet I write it? Remember – I was fundamentally shy and reserved in my actions and reactions – although I think I was changing fast under your tutelage. I have felt this way ever since I knew I loved you. I believe I was telling you more and more as each week slipped by. What you read, darling, is merely steady progress.

If I only had another letter or two from you, dear! Gee, some of the fellows are hearing from home more regularly than others – for some unknown reason. Today our dentist got two airmails dated Dec 1st – out of N.Y. Well – I’ll continue waiting, but I do so want to hear from you, Sweetheart!

I guess I’d better stop now, dear, and please excuse me for sounding so blue at the start of the letter. I feel better just having told you about it. I know, dear, even before I get your letters – how you must feel and I mind that more than I mind my own reactions. Cheer up, darling, we’ll make up for lost time – don’t you forget that! I’ve told you I’m very jealous of time and life and we’re going to make up for what we lost, with God’s help.

Take good care of yourself, darling, and be well. And send my fondest regards to your folks. If I haven’t mentioned them often in my letters – it’s not because I don’t think of them; it’s merely that I get so absorbed in my writing – that I finish the letter to you and that’s all I think of. So long, dearest, and you have

All my love

Greg

13 December, 1943

438^th AAA AW BN

APO 515 % Postmaster, N.Y.

Monday, Dec 13, 1943   1800

England

My dearest sweetheart –

For variety’s sake I didn’t write you this p.m. and waited until now, just after supper. Also I hoped to hear from you today, but no luck, dear – and I’ve already used up my ration of two letters from you which I received a few days ago. That last letter, darling, was written November 8 and was a pretty blue one. I guess you expected me to call, and I didn’t. You’ve heard long since how restricted we were at that time, dear, so I know you understand.

In that connection you also made a statement about not being able to write once I left for overseas and until I arrived. I wonder who started that rumor. It’s probably German propaganda, dear. I do hope that since then you’ve learned that was not true, because I’m still waiting desperately to hear from you from Nov. 21st on. As long, darling, as you have any APO number of mine, you can write me at any time. Even if you think my APO number has changed, it makes no difference. It’s always forwarded to our new location – and you just use the latest address you have.

Now having straightened that out, darling, all I have to do is sit back and wait for those letters to roll in. This past week-end was terrible. It just dragged along until I thought Sunday would never end. I did manage to play some bridge part of the p.m. – and it helped kill a couple of hours. Incidentally, I believe I’m improving, to wit – my partner and I trimmed a pretty good team yesterday made up of Charlie and another good player. Charlie plays a very good game – and playing opposite him, I’ve learned a few things. I’ll probably play again tonight, dear. My greatest fault I think is my tendency to under-bid my hand – which is a throwback to the old auction bridge, but I’ll get over it, I guess.

Today, dear, was very cold and gray, but still there’s been no snow. Shortly after lunch, and in deference to your express wish, darling, I went to a neighboring town and looked up a photographer. He didn’t want to take us (I interested another officer in going) because he was too busy for Christmas, but I told him I had left the States without having been able to give my fiancée a picture of me. He looked quizzically at me as if to say he could understand why, but the result was he said he’d do it. I doubt if this one comes out any better, dear. For one thing, I was frozen, and the British stores, etc. are all kept very cold. I don’t know how they stand it. Anyway, I shall look at the proofs and if anywhere near decent – I’ll have some made. If not, Sweetheart, be patient. I’ll keep trying to get one I think you’ll like of me – right up until the end of the war – even if I have to bring one back in person and hand it to you. If not, we’ll take one together after we’re married.

As each one of these days go by, darling, I think I’m as excited as you are about your graduation. No doubt you’ll tell me all about it, but it would have been so wonderful to have been with you this coming week-end. I would have loved also to be able to send you a gift – but it was impossible. Among other reasons is the paucity of gift items available in this country; also – you have to have points for about everything and the Army is reluctant to issue them or have them issued to the soldiers because it encroaches on the English. I’m now down to looking for little trinkets of one sort or another, but up to now have failed to find even those. I do hope though, dear, that you receive a little card from me wishing you the best of luck.

One thing has worried me the past few days, darling, – the flu epidemic which the U.S. is supposed to be having. You may have read of one here. Don’t worry about me. I’m immune to it and I have felt fine. I do hope there’s none around your way and that you stay well. And do you have to be told to wear your scarf, dear, when you go out, or are you taking care of yourself for me?

Darling, that’s all for now. I have to check some men who want to go on pass and have just got over being sick. They’re not allowed out until I clear them. I miss you dear more than I can express in writing, and I love you just as much. Do you keep reminding yourself of that? Goodnight for now, Sweetheart – and

All my love

Greg

* TIDBIT *

about the Flu Epidemic in December of 1943

[Note from FOURTHCHILD: The following is an excerpt from Atlantic Magazine published in March of 1944, discussing the ongoing flu epidemic and the numbers for December of 1943.]

Although influenza is still far below its 1918-1919 level, we must not be complacent. Some signals are flying. The number of influenza cases, 82,951 reported by our State Department Health for the week ending December 18, 1943, was more than three times greater than the previous week and more than twenty-seven times that of the corresponding week in 1942. While the fight goes on, let us consider what advances have been made since 1918-1919 in the prevention and treatment of influenza and its ally, pneumonia.

[Click here to see the full article, a good read as it discusses the future of "virus" research, some of which remains true today. The following excerpt is an example.:

One can only hope that by "cookbook chemistry," the laborious making and testing of thousands of compounds, or a lucky strike, someone will find an agent which can penetrate our cells and reach the viruses so securely ensconced within them. When this discovery comes, it will be one of the last steps needed for the control of infectious disease.

12 December, 1943 (Route of the "?")

Route of the Question Mark

Page 18 from The Route of the Question Mark is transcribed below, describing how time was spent since arriving in the UK, and pinpointing Doddington Park, Nantwich, Cheshire as "Somewhere in England."

page 18

...Scotland and the Firth of Clyde... The band that played for us on the railway platform at Gourick, Scotland...  Thanksgiving Day, 1943, and our K ration meal on the train from Gourick to Crewe, England... Doddington Park... The fog... The rain... The darkness... The English winter, and the English blackout, which we scrupulously observed... The unpleasant mess hall... The one clear day at Doddington, when Capt SILVIS took us for a walk to observe the English countryside... Our first pubs: The Boar's Head at Doddington, and the Red Lion at Nantwich... The ATS Girls, and our first contact with the English... The dances at Crewe... "Roll Me Over In The Clover, Roll Me Over, Lay Me Down, And Do It Again"... Giving up our American money and receiving pounds, shillings, and pence for it... The reckless poker games that taught us the value of this currency...

Here are a few links to click on:

Doddington Hall in Doddington Park

Boar's Head Inn, Walgherten, Nantwich, Cheshire

The ATS (Auxiliary Territorial Service) Girls

The Red Lion, on Barony Road, was demolished for a care home.

As for the quoted tune, here are the full lyrics...

Now, this is number one
And the fun has just begun.
Roll me over, lay me down,
And do it again.

[CHORUS]
Roll me over, in the clover,
Roll me over, lay me down,
And do it again.

Now, this is number two,
And he's got me in a stew.
Roll me over, lay me down,
And do it again.

[CHORUS]

Now, this is number three,
And his hand is on my knee.
Roll me over, lay me down,
And do it again.

[CHORUS]

Now, this is number four,
And he's got me on the floor.
Roll me over, lay me down,
And do it again.

CHORUS]

Now, this is number five,
And his hand is on my thigh.
Roll me over, lay me down,
And do it again.

[CHORUS]

Now, this is number six,
And he's got me in a fix.
Roll me over, lay me down,
And do it again.

[CHORUS]

Now, this is number seven,
And it's just like being in heaven.
Roll me over, lay me down,
And do it again.

[CHORUS]

Now, this is number eight,
And the doctor's at the gate.
Roll me over, lay me down,
[CHORUS]

Now, this is number nine,
And the twins are doing fine.
Roll me over, lay me down,
And do it again.

[CHORUS]

Now, this is number ten,
And he's started once again.
Roll me over, lay me down,
And do it again.

12 December, 1943

438^th AAA AW BN

APO 515 % Postmaster, N.Y.

Sunday, Dec 12, 1943    1150

England

Dearest and only Sweetheart –

Among so many other things I like about you is your artistic ability, darling – especially when you design intertwining hearts, one of which I always assume is yours, and the other – dare I say it – mine. I always look, dear, to see which has been pierced more severely by the arrow. The last set was a draw, if I may use the word, and that’s the way it should be. But seriously darling, I love it and keep it up.

After a long wait, dear, I got two more letters from you late yesterday. I read the earlier of the two and so help me I put the other aside for today and shall read it a little later. It’s hard to do, but it’s worth it for you see today I have something to look forward to.

I don’t know how long the mail situation will remain like this – but we’re getting ours in reverse. The last two letters I received were written the 7th and 8th of November. That about includes and concludes the interval between Edwards and you know what. Of course it doesn’t make any difference to me how I get my letters from you dear as long as I get them. I’m certain now though, that regardless of how long it takes, all our letters eventually reach us, and that’s a comforting thought.

Your letter of the 7th was a real “longie” as you put it, and I read it three times at the first sitting. That was the day your folks drove you back. I’m glad you drove, dear, and I hope you have your license to drive by the time I get back. It will be convenient because until I can get you a car of your own, you will want to use mine, while I’m having office hours or at the hospital etc. You also mention the lighter in that letter. I hope you are getting some use of it, darling.

Charlotte S. did sound dumb from the way you described her, especially when she said she was getting to forgetting her husband. Having a child and another one coming gave her so much to remember him by it seems to me. Concerning her description of the “1st week” which by the way has been told and retold by many a young bride – it’s a matter of point of view, as I look at it and always depends on the parties involved. For some reason or other it reminds me of the Gigolo in the Leper Colony who was doing all right until his business started falling off.

Well last night, instead of playing bridge as I wrote you I intended doing, I went into town. We send a convoy of trucks loaded with men into the nearest town. It leaves here at 1830 and leaves town at 2300. It’s the only means of transportation for the boys. An officer has to be in charge, and last night was my turn. Usually the great percentage head for the town hall where a public dance is held. I went up, as chaperone of course – because no other officer was present. Officers don’t go to the dance because it’s for enlisted men. It was an experience, dear. The girls looked as if they were anywhere from 13 to 17, which ought to make you feel pretty old, darling. (heh, heh.) Apparently there are far more girls around in this country, too – because they swarmed all over the men. (I was unmolested.) They seemed to follow American style dancing quite well – but the orchestra played too many waltzes to suit our boys. The girls cut in regularly on dancing couples and even on two girls dancing, if you can imagine it. I couldn’t help but feel sad for these girls. The past 4 years have been black ones for them, just when they should be enjoying life. The dresses are shabby, actually, and the shoes frayed. Many of them were wearing shoes with wooden soles, without heels. One of the drivers told me they had not had things like gum or peanuts for four years. If they haven’t had those things, you can imagine they’ve gone without much more. But you never hear any beefing and their spirit is admirable. It’s inconceivable when you’ve been here even a short while that Americans can enjoy so many luxuries. It’s truly a blessed and rich country we have and certainly well worth fighting for.

I know. I’ve spoken, or written rather, a great deal about the British and what few impressions I’ve received. I don’t know whether you find it interesting or not, dear. Tell me if I dwell too much on the subject. I don’t want to be boring.

By the way, you mention bashfulness or shyness or the possibility of it in my writing because of censorship. Well, what do you think, darling, am I? I’m not ashamed to say the things I want to, dear, no matter who reads my letters.

I’m anxiously awaiting your picture, dear. If I get anywhere near a place where I can have mine taken, I’ll do it.

Well Sweetheart, I’ve rambled enough for one sitting. It’s getting near lunch time – so I’ll close now. Darling I’m writing often and I hope you think so. I’ll continue to until war’s end – no fear about that. I love to write to you and I hope you find what I write interesting. I enjoy what letters I receive from you and I anxiously await each day’s mail. Keep them coming, darling, because I love you so very very much – I need them. Be well, darling, and you have

All my love, Sweetheart

Greg.

11 December, 1943

438^th AAA AW BN

APO 515 % Postmaster, N.Y.

Saturday, Dec 11, 1943  1400

England

My dearest Wilma -

Saturday afternoon – and once upon a girl there was a – excuse me dear – once upon a time I was wont to ride in either of two directions, but with you as the goal in both cases. Gosh they say that in the army one day is like another day, but somehow I’m always aware acutely of the arrival of Saturday and Sunday, and I have no doubt you are too, dear. On December 3rd, darling, I was on the Army active list for eighteen months. I can hardly believe it. I still find myself thinking in terms of when I closed my office; I don’t find a place for the 1½ year period – except the latter part of it.

Do you ever wonder, Sweetheart, whether or not we would have met had I not been in the Army. Of course I was getting fed up with my lonesomeness in Salem. Superficially I had plenty to do and places to go to, but when I got back of an evening I would feel very blue and realized I was missing one important thing, love for a woman and a woman’s love, in short – a wife. I suppose I would have started looking for someone, and yet I kept putting it off. Boston was a long way off it seemed, and I just stayed in the same old groove. What would have eventually happened, I don’t know. I’m not the bachelor type because I believe too much in a wife and family life. I would have gone on being fundamentally unhappy.

The fact that I didn’t get to meet you before I actually did is my own fault – but I’m satisfied now, dear.

I was just re-reading the last letter I received from you, written Nov. 21. I like it for several reasons, darling, but particularly because it’s the latest. If you’re like me, as time goes by you’ll scan my letters more and more closely to see if there are any changes, obvious or hidden. Human nature, darling, is like that and that’s not harmful at all. I pray, dear, that I never find any changes, that you continue to write that you’re “deeply in love” with me and that I have all your love. Nothing else will make me happy. Less than that will sadden my life. Remember ever, darling, that you have me if you want me.

Your reference to the “Rear Admiral” was funny, but if you want to be a doctor’s wife you must say ‘hemorrhoids!’ You have nice relatives, darling, and very friendly they were to me, too. I know they’re very fond of you, and if they liked me at all, it’s a great compliment. Won’t if be fun to have them over and entertain in our own house! We’ll have the widest circle of friends and relatives a couple ever had, or I miss my guess, dear.

But yes, this was Saturday afternoon and I’m so far away Sweetheart. It’s such an annoying, gnawing realization and at times seems unbearable. I’m in my office now, listening to the radio. It’s quiet and warm – but I’m so damned lonesome and I dread the thought of the evening. I’m not afraid of “diversion and thus a date”, as you put it dear. That won’t help me at all and if it did, I wouldn’t like it, because I don’t want anyone to divert me but you. I suppose we can get a bridge game going but it’s going to be a long evening.

So far there’s been no mail today. I heard disconcerting news yesterday to the effect that initial mail from here to home sometimes takes as long as 5-6 weeks to arrive and that even cablegrams take almost as long. I was under the assumption that you certainly had heard from me by this time. Gee I hope so, darling. I don’t mind so much not hearing as long as my letters get to you – but I’m convinced that when I do get the next batch from you that I will read your letters in sequence, and one each day. The in-between periods are much too lonesome and aggravating.

I’m afraid I’m sounding too blue, darling, but excuse it. I have plenty to be thankful for and I’m not forgetting that. As long as I have your love, I’m happy. I miss you strongly, but that’s natural, and as I’ve said before, that’s a good sign and I expect to keep on missing you. Why – I expect to miss you Sweetheart – if you leave Salem for an afternoon to visit your mother, for example, – so why shouldn’t I miss you now?

So long, dearest – until tomorrow and best of luck in your new job, whatever it is, but keep away from anything male – because you’re mine! You see – I am possessive – but please dear, don’t tell me too much so.

Auf Weidersehen, darling and

All my love for now

Greg

10 December, 1943

438^th AAA AW BN

APO 515 % Postmaster, N.Y.

Dec 10, 1943     1045

England

Dearest beloved -

I suppose that if you received my mail daily in sequence – it would read like a chronicle. It must be confusing to get them mixed, as you probably do. As I figure things, with censorship and the usual hold up of letters in the early days of arrival, you should be just about beginning to receive my mail somewhere about this date. Am I correct, dear? Of course this time of the year with Christmas packages and all I guess the mail is delayed even more than usual. I think you’ll eventually find, dear, that you’ll hear from me by air-mail in about one week’s time, which isn’t bad. I remember when I was in Fort Jackson, S.C. – it sometimes took 4 days for my mail to get home. Only there I was able to call frequently.

If you have my letter written last night, darling you’d know that we received no mail yesterday because the mail truck broke down. It finally got in about 0100, and was sorted out this a.m. – but no mail for me. So what can I do about it, dear? Nothing except to use my imagination again – and I sure do feel sorry for anyone who hasn’t got one and has to be away from home. I’ve been using mine pretty steadily, darling. When I don’t hear from you, I tell myself you are writing anyway and then I try to imagine what you might have written – and it’s always something sweet, dear.

Yesterday I heard a re-broadcast of an old “Hit Parade”. Number one at that time was “Brazil” and number two “It seems to me I heard that etc.” Frank Sinatra crooned, and the audience sighed deeply. Incidentally, I heard that someone was found at a Sinatra program who actually fainted. Investigation showed she hadn’t eaten all that day. In the evening I heard the program “Mail Call” direct from Hollywood – which is broadcast to soldiers overseas only. Lionel Barrymore, Dennis Day, Baby Snooks, and a few others took part. It’s wonderful, dear, to hear an American program – no matter what it is – And the American announcers sound so homey. And you know how irritating the advertisements used to sound? Well I’d like to hear a couple of choruses of Pepsi-cola and others. The B.B.C. and the stations of the continent have no advertisement at all. The program runs until the end of the half-hour or hour, the time is announced and the new program started. On the hour – the British Stations give the chimes of Big Ben from London – instead of the staccato notes of the WBC or CBS.

I’m getting as I can recognize more and more of the French and German that we hear so much of on the radio – so I’ll have to consider this trip as partly educational, dear.

I’m going to stop now – without closing the letter. I’ve got to do a couple of things before lunch – and perhaps today’s mail will be in, early p.m. Solong for now, Sweetheart

2200

Hello dear –

That was a longer pause than I anticipated. Several things turned up – but the one that took the longest was an unexpected trip to the hospital. One of our officers has been quite sick and I had to go see if he were going to be transferred out of our outfit. I didn’t get to the hospital until 1630 and after checking up on several of the boys – I met an M.D. who hails from the North Shore. Well we got to talking and he invited me to the Officers’ Mess. It was too late to get back to ours, so I stayed. Then we smoked awhile in the Officers’ Lounge and before I knew it – it was quite late, darling, and we had to make our way back thru the blackout. No, dear, I don’t often forget myself and let the hours slip by – so you needn’t start worrying about my being late for dinner and supper. If I know you’re at home waiting, I’ll be on time, dear, you’ll see. I don’t hurry now, because there’s no one here to hurry to. It will be swell seeing you often during the day (and night too, of course). That’s one of the privileges of being an MD, you can see your wife a whole lot more of your lifetime than the layman.

Coming back tonight – the moon was big and the sky clear – for a change. I looked up at it all the 31 miles back and dreamed of you. If you saw the moon too dear – you must have felt something because I was concentrating very hard.

On returning here I found no mail. I don’t mind so much but I’m beginning to worry about your receiving my mail. I do hope you are by now. I’ll close now Sweetheart because I’m tired and want to get some sleep. Be patient darling. I’ll write tomorrow and meanwhile –

All my love to you, dear

Greg

09 December, 1943

438^th AAA AW BN

APO 515 % Postmaster, N.Y.

Thursday, Dec 9, 1943   1630

England

Dearest Wilma -

The mailman has not returned as yet so I don’t know whether I’ll hear from you or not today. We get mail once a day here, incidentally, if at all.

Well today is 10 days from Graduation and I can well imagine how excited you are as you knock off day by day. It must be a little tougher on you than it was for us, because our Divisional Exams came at least a month before Commencement and we knew just where we stood. But I’m not very much worried as to how you’ll make out, dear, because I have a great deal of confidence in your ability. Good Lord, though, how I’d like to be there with you! I missed so much with you, leaving the States when I did. First your Birthday, then your Graduation, then Christmas and New Year’s. I get very lonesome when I think of the coming Holidays. I wonder what you’ll do on Christmas, and particularly New Year’s Eve. We could have had so much fun, darling. Here in England, by the way, New Year’s Eve is just another night. They don’t celebrate it at all, although the Scotch do make quite a time of it we’re told. I’ll probably stay up and write you a letter at midnight, say. And I’ll be thinking oh so hard about you and wondering what you decided to do. I know how much you enjoy life and I guess I don’t blame you, but it’s so difficult to think of those at home and not get blue when we think of days of celebration.

Excuse me, darling, for getting off on such a tangent. Well last night I went to my first English movie house. I’ve already written you that they show most of our pictures – a few months late. They also have their own. I saw one of theirs last nite – called “The Flemish Farm” – and among some of the players was Clive Brook – remember him? It was another one of those pictures about Germans and occupied Belgium, but there were several good scenes and suspense was created with as equal imagination as Hollywood has. The best seats are in the first balcony, the worst are in the orchestra, just the reverse of ours. But all over England you are permitted to smoke anywhere in the theater and there are ash-trays behind each seat. That reminds me, darling, that Salem’s own Paramount theater (for which I once had an all year round courtesy pass for 2 because one of the owners was a patient of mine) allows smoking upstairs.

I’m going to leave now for a short while, dear, chow’s on!

1930
Hello Darling!

Chow wasn’t that long. We had a Battery Commander’s meeting at 1830 and we just got thru. Coming over to the dispensary from headquarters I looked up to see the moon. Full moon is the 11th and you know how I feel about full moons, dear. As a matter of fact the moon here isn’t very pretty; you can hardly see it thru the mist. I don’t need a moon to feel the way I do, anyway.

I just got some word on the mail situation for tonight. The mail truck broke down on its way back. They’ve called for someone to tow it back and since it’s quite a distance from here – I can forget about mail for tonight. I don’t know how long it’s going to take to become stoic about disappointments and waiting. I know that I’m not used to it yet. I hope I won’t get used to it, Sweetheart, even though that sounds paradoxical. What I mean is that I want to miss you and want you and feel disappointment at not hearing from you right up to the day I hold you in my arms again for always – and I know that’s the way it will be.

I often wondered about love and being affected by it. I even voiced my opinion (to your Mother). I know I made it sound very abstract and matter of fact. I wasn’t entirely wrong – but I was never aware of a certain something that can’t be put into words, that I never experienced, darling, until I met you. The combination of what you want in a woman, plus this certain something, doesn’t come often or ever, I suppose, to some people. I have it, darling, in my knowledge and love for you and it makes me happier than I’ve ever been before – despite the agony of being separated. I keep telling you I’m happy – and you must wonder how I can be. That’s why I’ve tried to explain how and why I feel that way. Do you understand, dear?

I seem to be particularly wordy tonight, dear – but it’s easy, especially when you can keep writing and no one interrupts your conversation – not that you ever did.

Wilma, darling, I wonder if you gather from my letters how much I love you and want you to be waiting for me when I return. I want it like I’ve never wanted anything before. Also I might warn you, dear, that anything I’ve ever really wanted, I’ve got – so you might as well resign yourself to me dear, because I want you very very much.

I’d better stop now, dearest, until tomorrow. I hope you’re hearing from me reasonably regularly now. I hope to hear from you tomorrow, but if not – you’ll be just as near to me as you always are in my mind and heart. Goodnight, dear and you have

All my love

Greg

08 December, 1943

438^th AAA AW BN

APO 515 % Postmaster, N.Y.

Wednesday, Dec 8, 1943 1100

England

Dearest Girl -

You can see by the time that I probably won’t be able to finish this at one sitting, but I thought I’d start anyway, since I happen to have a few spare moments just now. At 1130 I have to attend a B.C.’s meeting where we all air our views about different matters. Today I’m going to beef about the mess-kit water not being hot enough. I do that periodically, and they are getting used to it by now. As long as the boys don’t get any disease from contamination, I don’t care.

I’m sitting at my desk, near a warm stove, dear, with the radio playing Gypsy music, softly. It’s very comfortable – but you would complete the picture beautifully. Speaking of pictures reminds me of a statement you made in one of your letters – i.e. – that with time your picture might become dimmed. I don’t know, dear, whether you meant that figuratively or literally – but in either case you were way off the beam. Even without your photograph, darling, your image is very much in my mind; a picture will help – but even if either should be dimmed in my visual sensory mechanism, it wouldn’t matter at all because Sweetheart – it’s what you are basically that I love. Suppose I can’t visualize you? What of it? I know that when I left home I left behind me a girl whose qualities and make-up I loved and who in addition, loved me. That fact won’t get dimmed ever in my memory sense, believe me, darling – and it will bring me back to you, I know.

The program has changed to dance music and right now they’re playing “Put Your Arms etc.” and boy how I’d like to! The native dance bands – as I hear them on the radio – aren’t too good. The leading band leader seems to be a fellow named Victor Sylvester, and he isn’t bad. Yet he can’t touch Dorsey, Miller, Goodman, James et al. They play a lot of our old numbers like ‘Blue Skies’, ‘Who’. I’ve listened to hear ‘Dark Eyes’ – but so far, dear, no luck.

I did hear Bob Hope’s program the other night – or did I mention that? It was a Monday at 7:30 p.m. or 1930 and it was therefore about 1430 in the States. It was a special overseas program, done weekly. Crosby and Langford were on with him, and they wise-cracked freely. The ad-libbing was plentiful and they addressed all their remarks to the soldiers. I haven’t been able to find out about Jack Benny’s program as yet – but I understand he does one, too.

I have to leave right now, dear. Excuse me.

1240

Hello darling –

Just got back from lunch. We had steak, mashed potatoes, diced beets, mustard, pickles, coffee, pineapple and home-made tarts, and that wasn’t an extraordinary meal – either. Right now I’m waiting for one of the other officers to call for me. The BC’s are custodians of the funds of the batteries. We lugged our cash overseas and now we’re going to deposit it in an English bank – possibly Barclay’s. They have branches all over England and if we should move right from this spot – we’d have a branch somewhere else.

And news? Well what opinions you can get from the papers here and some natives – they all seem to feel that the war in Europe can’t last much longer. They feel the ‘Jerries won’t stick it’. The British are not a bunch of wishful thinkers – so maybe they have the right dope. Gosh, darling, how long must I dream of the ride back and the moment when I see you and I don’t know what? Will I be reserved? Wait and see, darling.

I’m afraid I’ll have to close now Sweetheart, – they’re waiting for me. Starting with this letter I’m addressing you at home on the hunch that it will take about that long to get to you. At any rate your mother will hold it.

Solong, my darling – I miss you terribly dear – particularly with the approach of the coming holidays, but what can a fellow do but sit tight and wait, and that’s what I’m going to do. I’ll write you again tomorrow, dear and until then – you have for safekeeping

All my love

Greg

07 December, 1943

438^th AAA AW BN

APO 515 % Postmaster, N.Y.

Dec. 7, 1943     1645

England

My dearest Sweetheart -

I used to think about overseas in a rather abstract way, I think. I would wonder how it would feel to actually be away. Now I know. Yet despite the awfulness of distance and the impossibility of being in close contact with beloved ones, I think it must be tougher on those at home.

I just received two more letters from you, darling – the most recent being the letter written on the 21st, after your long week-end at home. They were very sweet letters and told me very very much. But you were a very lonesome girl that week-end, dear, – very lonesome. We must have been thinking along the same lines, about the same time – as I think back.

First about my getting to meet an English girl, dear. Before I get to know one, I’ve got to meet one, don’t I? Darling, I haven’t got the slightest desire to meet an English, American, French, Russian, Italian, Burmese – or any other kind of girl. How could I want to, when I know you and love you so much? I know that you can’t help thinking things – to wit, I do the same. But you must have implicit confidence in my steadiness and my mind. I have one obsession, darling, and that is you – no matter where I go. Always, always remember that fact. I found you and knew immediately what I had been looking for. I loved you and tried to make you do the same; I’m not going to let anything destroy that!

Before you wrote what you did – or at least before I received this last letter, darling, I touched on a subject which you ask me to discuss. You remember before I left I kept saying I wished you and I had been engaged. I still wish it, dear – but remember, many an engaged person is so by virtue of a ring only, and not by much more. I feel I’m engaged, attached or any other word to you. You know my folks as no other girls I knew knows them; I know your folks rather well too. As far as I’m concerned, darling, I want to come home to marry you and that’s all I’m interested in.

I told you the other day, darling, how I felt about your going out. That’s going to be entirely up to you, dear. It’s probably easier for me not to go out than for you. After all – not many people in England are interested in me – For you it’s different, and I know that it must be difficult after sitting around night after night – not to accept what seems like a harmless invitation. Furthermore – it will be worse once school is over. All I can say, dear, is that I hope you don’t tell me about it. That’s fair enough, isn’t it?

Now I hope I’ve make myself clear on that subject. I was pleased to hear that my father had written you. He’s really out to hook you for me, I guess – and I’ll have to thank him.

You must be plugging away at the books these days and nights. I hope you’re concentrating and I want you to hit those exams hard.

I think your relatives are swell for remembering me so. I’m glad they do, dear, and don’t forget to send them all my best regards.

And out here in England, darling, there’s nothing at all in the line of news. My sight-seeing has consisted mostly of seeing the countryside on my visits to the hospital. The infernal fog and mist are a nuisance and are just what A. Conan Doyle said they were. It is actually difficult to walk even in the daytime. And it does get depressing not to see the sun day after day – just a moist grayishness that soaks everything. The ground and sidewalks never get dry – or at least never since we’ve been here. And because of our latitude and longitude (whatever they are), the sun never gets up very high in the sky. It reaches a point about as high as the sun would go in our country at about 1000 – and then starts sinking. Consequently, darling, it doesn’t start to get light these days until about 0845 and it’s dark right after 1700.

But it doesn’t really worry me very much dear. The fact is that this is all temporary and I’ll be coming back to you one of these days and we’ll stay in New England. Salem has some nice weather – and when it gets bad – we’ll stay in.

Now Sweetheart I hope you’re feeling well and taking care of yourself. I’m interested in how you’re making out in your quest for something to do after school is over – and I’m very much interested in whether or not you’re finding time very heavy, and whether the desire for diversion is very great in you. Write me, darling, and tell me – will you?

That’s all for now, dear – I hope I’ve answered your questions – You’ve got me, darling, and you’ll have me always – if you want me; no matter where I go, I’m coming back to you.

All my love, darling

Greg

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