Undated [on board the Empress of Australia, sailed from NYC to Liverpool, September 20, Wednesday-October 2, Monday, 1944]

Dearest Honey,

Since I have been aboard ship I have been writing one of those continued letters we use when we are out of contact. However, I have just received some new information on censorship that throws out a lot I had written—about dates, descriptions, etc. So this is an expurgated rewrite of what I have already written once.

Soon after I went to see Laura our unit was alerted. Consequently, we were out of contact with the world from then on. I got around quite a bit the last minute as supply officer, tho. I was kept so busy that I did not get a good chance to react emotionally to the thought of leaving the U.S. That is a good thing about being an officer. You have so many things to do that you don’t fret about yourself.

When we finally left, loaded down with equipment, I was in charge of one fairly large group of men, and had to check continually to see if they were all there. I left the men at the pier eating Red Cross donuts and coffee. I drifted around aimlessly for a time; they were anxious to care for enlisted men, but nobody seemed to care where an officer went. A man finally told me I could do nothing but go to my stateroom and go to bed. So I hunted up an officer’s gangway, checked in, and went aboard. A steward showed me my room, which I share with a mess of other 2nd Lts. It is a swell room, tho, and compared to what the men have, it is heaven.

As soon as I was settled I went down to where our men are. I was on a regular shift with them from midnite to 6 a.m.

Now I have to skip a lot of stuff I had describing our ship. Suffice it to say, it is a good one. We all get a chance to be on deck. It rolls gently with the waves. I can appreciate how a person could get sea sick. I have felt well, tho, all the way.

They always let us talk about the food, and as far as the officers’ mess goes it deserves to be talked about. We have two meals a day and they are really meals. I don’t mean just plentiful, but served in style. We have eaten in some swank places, honey, but never have we seem the amount of silverware and plates they give us. Three knives, three forks, and three spoons is par for a meal, with more added at the slightest excuse. None of them are “standard gauge,” but differ in size from our American ware. An old English custom, our waiter says. English preparation is not much different from our own. The officers have had big thick steaks with all the fixin’s and other meals, not better than we have had in restaurants, but comparable. No wines or anything. They always have a fish course just before the entrée.

I am not too busy now that we are on board, and am having quite a nice time. Today is Sunday and I went to a Protestant service, with communion. Seemed good. Got real wine. First time I have in such a service, I think.

The Red Cross, Salvation Army, U.S.O. and Army Special Service are busting buttons to make us happy. Today the Red Cross gave everybody a little kit with just about everything in it—soap, shoestrings, cards, cigarettes, a book, razor blades, stationery, a pencil, sewing kit, etc., etc. The bag itself can be used for toilet articles.

There is plenty of reading material in little readable books even smaller than Pocket-books.” Right now I am reading Benet’s “Western Star” in a little vest pocket version—but complete. They are all good literature—classics and best sellers. Very, very good idea.

I am writing this on deck. It is quite pleasant here, but the landscape looks just the same—sky, sea, and ship. One of my room-mates keeps running to the porthole to look out—we ask just what he expects to see new each time.

We carry life preservers all the time, and have daily boat drill. The last is just like fire drills in school!

We had a mail call yesterday and I got some letters taken with us the last minute from you, Laura, and Ma. You seem to be getting back into the Keene “groove” again O.K. You don’t know how relieved I am to know that. I feel so much better knowing you are there, and not really alone, since you have your mother and my folks and al the familiar things in Keene. Now as soon as we see that our things arrived in Keene O.K. from Abilene and that your allotment is reaching the banks on schedule, we’ll be set to “wait out” whatever we have to.

I know this won’t be mailed until the ship gets to its destination, and I can’t tell when I’ll get more mail from you. But I’ll be waiting anxiously, honey. I do love you more strongly than ever and nothing in the world can make me forget you for a minute. I think of you all the time, especially at night just before I go to sleep. I love my wife more than anything.

I suppose I have graduated from U.N.H. now; at least I was invited to their senior “tea.” I had other engagements at the time, however. I thought about it at the time of the commencement, tho. I don’t mind missing that as long as I get the “sheepskin.” In fact, it was a custom in my “Don Richards” set a school not to attend commencement. It signified something or other.

That’s all for now, hon. Hope you are fine. I love you a thousand times. ‘Bye, bunny.

All my love,
Wallace