June 27, 1944 Monday

Woods
Dear Hon,

We know the army too well to be surprised that I’m not coming in when I said I would. That doesn’t stop me from tearing my hair because we’ll have to plan on my coming in Saturday night now.

Please don’t be too discouraged because we haven’t seen much of each other, yet. These are not normal things, even for the 12th—and by staying out here now, we will be in for next week. After the Corps test things should return to routine, and this change in schedule gets us to Bowie and back much earlier than we have planned.

I love to have you so close now. Get very exasperated because I can’t get in to you, but it is a much less serious kind of feeling than the loneliness I felt when you were in New Hampshire.

I am very worried over your housing situation. Am praying that you have reservations for next week, or a room somewhere else. You can write to me out here—same address. Please let me know how you are and what you are doing.

I get paid next Sunday according to the new schedule.

Funny thing, I don’t know whether I am happy or not. It all depends on you—of you are finding it hard to get along or find nice things to do, I feel completely lousy. If you are busying yourself well and are comfortable, I never felt so good. I love to think of my wife in Abilene, happy; but I am miserable thinking that you be in Abilene, unhappy.

Monday morning I found a very fine way to ease up on the bad feeling of leaving you! Just by thinking over again the things we did together. Wasn’t our weekend just perfect? It was wonderful, honey; worth a lifetime. Please write.

All yours, always,
Wallace


June 27, 1944 Monday
Woods
Dear Honey,

Read the other page first—this came later.

This is my mother and father’s anniversary, a pretty big numbered one, too. Wonderful to think of us being together that long, by then there’s nothing we couldn’t do.

I got a letter from your mother—very, very nice one. She is a real lady. Do have trouble making out some words.

Don’t worry the least little bit over me. The only claim I have to be out of heaven is that I wonder how you are. If I knew you were O.K., I would feel perfect—in a state of dynamic equilibrium as some psychologists say. If things are not O.K., let me know and I’ll do something if I have to pull rank on General Brewer to do it. I would, too.

Bye for now, my very special wife. I love you more than you can imagine.

Love again,
Wallace