October 10, 1944 Tuesday

Somewhere in England

Dearest Honey,

Surprisingly enough, things seem to be settling down to a normal pace and routine here. I may even get a chance to write frequently. I sure hope so. I feel as tho I was getting way behind on things. Same way I used to feel when I didn’t write in my diary. It makes me feel guilty because so many things have happened now that I can only tell a few of them.

Fine as the British people are, don’t ever think they are the same as we are. This is really a foreign country. I hadn’t realized this until yesterday. Until then I had been in a U.S. camp and the country had seemed no more different than the sections of the U.S. are from one another. In fact, the weather and countryside seemed less foreign than Georgia or Texas did to me.

Before yesterday I saw enough of English ways to be interested, but not enough to appreciate how different they are. I played around a lot with British money when I was made exchange officer for the company and had to change over $850 from American to English currency and re-issue English money to the men. Got pretty fluent at talking pence, shillings and pounds.

I had a unique conversation with a little English girl. She was out by the ‘”ablution” place, and I had heard that she was there soliciting laundry, which we have been doing ourselves. Naturally, I ran out right away to see if she would take mine. “Are you the girl that wants to take in laundry?” She shook her head no. So I started back to my tent, baffled. I had gone about half way back when she called after me “But my mother does!” I went back to arrange it then. She said the house where she lived was one of two on the other side of the woods. I asked her which one, and she paused and said, “That all depends on which way you’re going. One way it’s the first, the other way it’s the second.” Well, we finally got by all theses obstacles and I found the place. Olewine fascinated them with our “funny” American money, and they said we could have laundry done for three-pence a piece. That’ll keep me from getting dish-pan hands, or whatever it is you get on wash day.

I went around with Olewine most of the time after we landed and were shuttling around. Once we almost got to ride in a glider towed by a C-47. We became acquainted with a lot of pilots at the officers’ club of one place. Arrangements were all made for us to go on a practice flight with a glider squadron, but our outfit moved out the morning we were supposed to go up. We were both disappointed, but anyway, we learned a lot from the pilots, all of whom had been on many missions—carrying invasion troops—and had “short-snorter” bills yards long. They are bills of foreign countries stuck together, you know. The man with the shortest string, buys the drinks.

That was the club where Olewine gave the English waiter a 50 dollar bill. He casually tossed it back, and explained that that was worth 50 cents,--or ‘alf a crown, and not enough to cover the bill.

After we moved into this tent camp things were just like any army camp getting settled—issuing blankets, lanterns, stoves, etc., as supply officer, took most of my time. We C Company officers live together in one tent; we have made it very livable by a series of nocturnal patrols that have yielded a stove, fuel, various items of furniture and, wonder of wonders, an electric light! We “acquired” everything from wire to plug to light and shade for same, and tapped in on a line going by our tent. My capitalistic respect for property is taking an awful beating, but we’re comfortable. We sleep on folding cots that are legitimate issue. That is, we didn’t steal everything.

We eat in a type of building known as a “Nissen Hut;” semi-circular, long, made of sheets of galvanized iron. Very warm and economical.

Just as I forgot that I was in a strange country, I drew a 12 hour pass. I cannot name the city Oley and I went to [Salisbury], because censorship does not permit us to mention any place within 25 miles of this camp. It is a fairly large place, tho, reached by a crowded bus like the one we took to Barkeley from Abilene, except for the English driver and ticket-taker.

As soon as we stepped down off the big two-story bus, Olewine and I walked in a foreign country from then on. We didn’t grasp a thing for the next three and a half hours, when we landed at an American officers club and caught our breath on coffee and donuts. We took off down a narrow crowded old street that didn’t look like New Orleans, but was closer to that than anything we have seen. We were hungry as wolves and looking for a place to eat. On the way we window shopped for Xmas presents for our wives. Saw some fine silverware, but not much in “our” style. Went into an antique shop and bought a bronze medal with a university coat of arms on it for 2 and 6. It is a silly thing—prize for a bicycle race at Cambridge in 1880. Don’t know why I bought it. We passed by typical “tobacconists” shops, and dropped into one. They had many kinds of tobacco, but none of the aromatic kinds. The result of war shortages. I have some English tobacco and it is no better than American. They have an excellent mild cigarette—“Player’s” Navy cut medium, they call it.

We didn’t find a restaurant that was open for a long time, and found out in the meanwhile that we just couldn’t get our uniforms pressed, and needed ration coupons that we didn’t have to buy a cheap pair of gloves. English waiters do not seem very aggressive. We entered a store and would have waited all day before anyone volunteered to wait on us. The waiters just ignored us until we went up and asked them for something. Then they were very polite, however.

Finally we found an open café. It was plainly the best in town—refined and crowded. We dashed in to order something extra big in the way of meals. We forgot that it was four o’clock, tea time, and that England was short on food in a way we don’t know about in the U.S. Consequently we were a little startled when we were put at a teeny-weeny table with a silver tea set and four cups already on the table. I was in the pourer’s seat, so I solemnly poured Olewine’s thimble full and we began munching on the little pastries they had there. We figured that when they brought us the menu we could order something big. The pastries would keep up from dying meantime. The menu did come, too. It was about the size of the menu at that Mexican food place in Abilene, was it Comidas Mexincanas? This menu was in pencil, tho. We ordered Welsh Rarebit very happily and returned to our tea, now reinforced with plain hot water from a pot. Finally our meal came—a thin slice of bread with a cheese cream on it. Olewine said, “huh, in the states we call it a cheeseburger.” All in all, we felt about as silly as you and I did at Antoine’s, and we left a great deal hungrier than you and I did.

We prowled around some more, and had “tea” at a couple of more nice cafes, but still couldn’t get what would equal one meal. Came to one conclusion—either you cannot eat at “tea-time,” or there is just no food to buy in England. Guess it’s a little of each.

We gave up finally, and went sight seeing. Without direction we found the old part of town. A section about two blocks square completely walled in by a tall parapet or the stone sides of buildings. We entered through an enormous archway of stone that looked like something out of the middle ages—and was. We went down a short street to a flat, green square. In the center was the enormous, graceful cathedral, and on the edge of the square were old taverns and stores—The Bell and Crown, The Red Lion, etc. An Anglican priest walked by, and a long legged boy went by on a bicycle. Everything was very, very European except for one thing—the boy was singing “Pistol Packin’ Mama”!

Then came the high point of the day, and I believe one of the most moving experiences of my life. We went into the cathedral. It was interesting from the outside—Gothic, old, large and majestic. It had “flying buttresses” and stone carvings and everything a cathedral should have. But it wasn’t until we went inside and looked up that we caught on to why people have been so enthusiastic about cathedrals. It was the most striking thing I have seen for a long, long time. The tall windows with the sun coming through, the high, high ceilings, the stone floors, the inscriptions that date back to long before the crusades. We got there in time for “evensong” and heard the organ playing. The acoustics were perfect, and the organ seemed to come from nowhere. We saw the robed choirboys march in, and heard the priests chant and the choir sing the responses. You can see how big a grip the church must have had on people in the old days, when it was all the had of art and culture. I was awe-struck in a way that is hard to describe.

We left soon, but I hope to go back again. We went back to the main part of town, and spent the evening at three officers’ clubs. One, to have a good American supper, a Red Cross O.C.; one that had a bar and a radio. We drank some good cherry brandy and some sherry as we listened to the sixth game of the world series. It was 2 o’clock in St. Louis, and 8 o’clock here when it started. We went to the third club to read and meet a Lt. who had agreed to take us home in his peep. We got home to our tent before midnite.

The pass was my first real look at England. It is a strange place, with very deep rooted customs. We Americans won’t change it too much. I have noticed that almost every young girl has a baby carriage. Not that there is any necessary connection, you know.

Since I started this letter my first mail has come in. I took time out to read every word two or three times. I got six letters. Four from you, one from Ma, and one from the University. The last tells me where to sit at graduation! All were written before I got on the boat, but you seemed to catch on that I was on my way. Gee, it was good to hear from you, Bunny. How did you know to put U.S.A. on your return address after Sept. 20? Every word you wrote was true, Hon. I do feel about like a boy that makes me very sick when I censor his mail. Every single day he tells his wife in 8 or 10 pages that he loves her (I quote) “madly, madly, and so very madly.” Well, I’m not mad at you, or anything, and I won’t risk driving anyone else into madness by being like that. But I can see how that boy feels, Hon.

Now, you see, this Abilene N.H. deal really shows very deep foresight, as I see it. I felt that by the time the card went out you might be either in Abilene or N.H. By compromising in this fashion I gave the postman some clue, regardless of where you were. Not many people would think of that, now, would they? And you got the damned thing, didn’t you?

Olewine and his wife have adopted “I’ll Walk Alone” until the war is over, too. It does fit us, a great deal better than I realized when I first went for it. I’ll walk alone, Honey, and I am lonely, too. And no mistake. I love you such an awful lot.

Probably you are in school now. Whatever you do is O.K. with me, Hon. I am waiting to hear about your doings after Sept. 20 or so. Ma says you are looking swell, which is natural, and I don’t see why she seemed surprised that your stay in Texas was good for you. (Did you ever tell her about the neat way you threw your dressed around the sidewalks of Abilene when we came back from New Orleans?) I will be glad when those pictures you took come through—I hope they’re the small kind.

Now, goodnite, Honey. I love you more than anyone in the world. I am so glad we had our summer together and came to see just how close we could be in reality. Before we had thought we could be close, now we are close and understand each other well. With that we can pass the time we are apart without worry and with great faith. I love you, Honey.

So long, every bit of love,
Wallace