February 19, 1945 Monday

[V-Mail]

France

21st General

Dearest Marjorie,

Well what do you know? The Xmas card that Grammie sent just arrived. It was a very graceful little card, and a nice message. Thank her very much for me and tell her I think of her very often. I will write as often as possible. 

Also, Honey, I received the little “thank you” card you sent for those silver things I sent you for Xmas. I thought they were in our mutual “tastes,” and as you describe them with flowers they must make a beautiful sight. I wish I could send many more gifts to you, but all I can send by V-mail is my love. You already have all of that, and you always will, Bunny. It almost makes me feel guilty when you attribute thoughtfulness to me, when you are so much more thoughtful of me. I appreciate everything you do, Honey, and love you very, very much every minute.

Always all yours,

Wallace

February 19, 1945 Monday

[V-Mail]

France

21st General

Dearest Marjorie,

Have just returned from a 3-day trip up to division to be a witness. It was a fine trip, and I got to see the company and my friends all over the division. Everybody was swell to me and it seemed great to talk things over once more. I do not know, of course, how the trial came out. I felt so good on the trip that when I came back I went to see the officials about leaving this place. They seemed to think it could be arranged, so I will probably be on my way to a replacement depot tomorrow. Have to go there before I can return to the unit for good. 

Have received beaucoups of letters from you in the last four days, and, Honey, they are so wonderful. You understand exactly how I feel and write it just right. Your letters are the high points in my days, and your sympathies and faith make me love you always more and more. I can’t say enough, you are the best wife in all the world!! Gee, I love you,

Wallace

February 19, 1945 Monday

21st General

France

Hello, my dearest Honey,

I must bring you up on my activities first thing today. I have been relatively active the past few days, so I will adopt your system and tell you about my doings chronologically. 

Way last Thursday you became the only person on my mind all day. Another series of letters came in and as always they were so wonderful I went around in a cloud for a long time. They are so full of thought and understanding and love. You are the perfect wife, Hon. Even tho you are away, your letters bring you right to me. I am awfully grateful and happy that I have such a wife. Just lucky, too, I think when I ask myself how it ever happened. I can only try to be as good a husband, and if I fail it’s because of inability and not thru lack of love. Please know I love you a thousand times more than I can ever write in a letter. You’ll see when I come back – I’ll never let you go, Bunny. I’ll just hand around til you me our of the kitchen or someplace so I won’t bother you. Even then, I don’t believe I’d go far. 

Thanks for the pictures of you, the children and the Xmas tree. They are swell. I can’t get over how those letters come thru. I am still getting football scores. Each bunch seems to range from Nov. to the middle of January. So if you asked anything urgent, don’t despair, Hon, maybe that one hasn’t reached me even yet. I’m very glad you write so often, tho, every last word is appreciated to the full – also the words that precede it!

Well, to get down to cases – Obie came Thursday night, and early Friday morning we took off in an ambulance for division headquarters. Pleasant, sunny trip thru rolling hills and villages of dilapidated red-roofed, stucco (not “staccato”!) houses to Chateau-Salins. I took pictures there of Obie and the men of “C” Co. who were there either as witnesses or as clerks who stay regularly at the administrative center. No, I took the picture at Averycourt, then we proceded to Chateau-Salins. 

There was nothing in Chateau-Salins of interest as far as civilian attractions go. It has changed hands plenty of times. I stayed at the medics since I was still a patient. But I was clothed at least and did little but sleep there. We swapped stories all evening – there were many of the old bunch there. Saw G. and talked with him. He kept his thoughts pretty much to himself, but was friendly and courageous enough. We helped him all we could. 

Saturday, the trial. It took all day. I don’t believe I have gone into much detail on it, and can’t go too far without my censor-spirit popping up. It was general court martial, as is required for an officer. I was on the stand for only a few minutes – giving the company dispositions. The rest of the day I sat in the witness room talking with the witnesses. Wrote a letter to you, also, but had to send it “Free,” not airmail, so no telling when you’ll get it. The trial pertained to our first Herrlisheim affair, about a week before I was wounded. Gino was charged by Major Zapitz with “misconduct before the enemy.” The situation was irregular and I wouldn’t have done what Gino did. He moved his outfit without notifying the rest of the company to a point in the rear. But to me it was an “error of judgment” not a criminal affair at all. Maybe it should have called for transfer or reclassification, but not this. It is so clear that some people are simply not temperamentally able to do the kind of work up there. Reclassification is not a disgrace at all. It puts a man in a place where he can do a good job, and doesn’t keep an unqualified person responsible up front. Nobody that was in Herrlisheim can “blame” Gino. The wonder is that anybody stayed there, not that some didn’t.

The results of a trial are secret until announced by the court. So I do not know how it came out. I deduce he was not acquitted because he was in custody after the trial. The general atmosphere gave me the impression he got it pretty stiff. I’ll let you know when. 

After the trial I went to personnel to get the wheels a-rolling on a new A.G.O. card and dog-tags et al. Got the papers on my promotion to 1st Lt. for duration +6 in the A.U.S., then it will revert to my original grade in the O.R.C. Are all those letters meaningful? O.R.C. is Officers’ Reserve Corps, a permanent organization. A.U.S. is all duration +6. O.R.C. may be either good or bad for me. Time alone will tell. The order is by command of General Patch, a rapid battlefield promotion requiring no acceptance or oath. Says “Having clearly demonstrated fitness for promotion by outstanding performance in actual combat...are promoted to the grade of 1st Lt.” Dated Feb. 1st – I raised my allotment to you to $210 per month – here is how we stand now:

base pay 166

+10% overseas 17

subsistence 42

rental 75

___

$300

Then you deduct a bond and insurance to get the cash. Ins=6.50; bond=18.75

Lt. Trusley gave me a ride to the company. It is spread out over about 50 miles as a sort of connecting screen to the rear. The men are resting, mainly, and have comfortable houses, by infantry standards. The almost 100% replacements left few privates I knew, but company headquarters looked the same. Sgt. Fee, Hunneman, and all. We had an enthusiastic reunion. I stayed overnite and left in the morning. The C.P. is in an old cafe in a small typical Alsace town. Stucco or concrete houses, all grouped together in a compact little village. Each with a large straw-mixed dung pile instead of a front lawn. You feel as if each side was the rear of the combined houses and stables. The living quarters are very modern, however – electricity, running water. They worked in this town, which makes it very exceptional in this country at this time. As in all France, you can’t drink the faucet water. Can’t do that even at the hospital with its almost ultra-modern buildings. We drink G.I. water or wine when and if available. I slept in the cafe in a sleeping bag, which is S.O.P., of course, at the company. We “drag out the sack” instead of going to bed. Being away a while made me look with new eyes on the daily life at the company. Before, I was so immersed in it that I wasn’t aware of what parts were strange. Of course it is all weird, as far as that goes and you have to live it to get the “G.I. spirit” which is very real, if an intangible and indescribable thing. 

Sunday morning I went out with Lt. Young in a peep to visit the scattered squads in surrounding villages. Saw maybe 4 men of my old second platoon – but more are returning from hospitals now. Naturally, we got lost. But unnaturally, the peep ceased to function in a town in which there were no soldiers at all. Maybe we captured the place, I don’t know. Nobody but gaping German-speaking Alsacians around. Arnold finally got us rolling. We got back to the company, but late. Took a half-track to division and an ambulance back to the hospital. That brought me here at supper time. 

I’ll close now, Honey, but promise to write more this p.m. Meantime I’ll be thinking of you and loving you just as hard as possible. I feel very good today, not any of the strange inhibitions that make it hard for me to write of things over here sometimes. That’s a funny thing that happens quite a lot. Not there today, tho, so maybe I’ll be able to say I love you better while my mind is free of them. I’ll write more, my honey.

Love, 

Wallace

February 16, 1945 Friday

France

Hello, my Honey,

I did not get to write to you yesterday because I was on the way up to division for G’s trial. O’Brien, the T.G.A., got an ambulance to make the trip in. Sgt. Huddleston and Sgt. Mike Urbaniak came with me a patient-witnesses, too. It was a beautiful day, almost like May, and we enjoyed getting out and around again very much. The weather made us all cheerful and we had a lot of fun as we toured over the pretty French countryside. Green and rolling, but marred by the ruined houses and villages. It was a 3 hour ride, and tho the war rolled by most of it some time ago, the evidences are still around. The quaint red-tile roofs must have been beautiful in peace time. I see now where Van Gogh got his red roofs.

We got to the administrative center just as it was moving to a new town, so we ate and went right along with it. We rode the ambulance but wore new G.I. clothing issued at the hospital. Had a warm reunion with Spetgang and Cardon, our company clerks. I took a picture of the bunch with the camera you sent me. It was the 4^th picture, by the way. I took three at the hospital. Eventually you will see them, I’m sure.

We came to Chateau-Salins and got a place to sleep with the medics. Wandered around the town, but could get no wine, even with my persuasive French! So we spent a wordy evening getting re-oriented on all our various adventures – Gino, Abie, Spetgang, Cardon and old Sgt. Warren (now a battle 2^nd Lt.). Up here they knew all about my own promotion. It was the first battlefield promotion given in the battalion, and will make me platoon leader, first platoon, when I get back. Had a lot of fun ceremoniously white-taping my bar -(had only one)- and placing bits of tape on my field jacket shoulders. Made me feel good to see the enl[isted] men so enthusiastic over it. Satisfying to know they back you up after all we’ve been thru. They are a great bunch. The very best. 

Today, the trial. I spoke my piece this morning, but must stick around in case of recall. Have my fingers crossed for G. I am writing this while waiting. Tonite I hope to go forward to the company area to see the rest of the “old” men. It’s just for fun now, you know – I’m only on leave from the hospital and must return Sunday. My arm is O.K. but I can see from this trip that my all-around condition isn’t as tough as it was. I get tired fast.

Funny thing, I bumped into the doctor who treated my arm the very first thing when I was being evacuated today. He remembered me, strangely, and was interested in my arm. He says it has healed well, that he thought the joint was surely injured when he first had seen it. Also that the lack of sensation in my little finger and part of my palm may last for several months while a new nerve grows from my elbow down. That’s just a curiosity, tho, it doesn’t cut down my efficiency. The motor nerve is O.K. – the ulnar sensory seems gone. That accounts for the continual numbness. Here’s how it stacks up now--

I shall not mention to the folks about the numb area. They would make a mountain of it maybe and actually it is of no more consequence than that nick I got in second finger at Camp Wheeler. O.K.?

In a letter I got yesterday you gave me the dickens for not saying I love you and Gee, Hon, that’s one thing I don’t want to be lax on. That’s the main reason I write at all, and the one thing I want you always to have absolute faith in. I know that being sure you love me is my firmest “leaning post” [? partly illegible], and I want you to have the same feeling – because my love is just as certain and will always be there regardless of anything. So if I keep on being negligent, you may tickle me to pieces for every time I fail you. I love you – so there.

You are always my honey, 

Wallace

February 15, 1945 Thursday

[V-Mail]

France

21st General 

Dear Pa,

Thanks for your V-Mail of the 14th of Jan. I can tell you now that I am in the 7th Army, but that can change quickly, because armored units are rushed around wherever they are needed. Also, you can’t very well judge what an individual is doing from the disposition of an army. A small unit might well be withdrawing while the army as a whole goes ahead, or vice versa. Or it might rest in reserve throughout. Initially, censorship had to be extremely strict, but by now Jerry knows all about us, so it isn’t as bad. When we first went in, he didn’t know there was any armor around—we wore no patches or other unit markings and moved at night. Consequently we had a big advantage at first.

Marjorie says you are working very hard. She marvels at the amount you do. Don’t do any more than you want to. 

I’m as good as new again now, and inactivity is beginning to bore me. The weather here is like April already—snow and freezing lasted only about a month and a half. 

Love to all, 

Wallace

February 13, 1945 Tuesday

France

Dearest Marjorie,

One thing I have had a chance to do since I have been here is to listen to some good music. The “American Forces Network in the field with the Seventh Army” puts onto a pretty good volume of classical music and our reception here is perfect. Concert bands, operatic recordings, Strauss waltzes and lighter music. Was reading an article on the therapeutic qualities of music—the radio people must be in on it, too; I have noticed that their programs include a big share of pieces thought to be best for lifting spirits. It is swell to hear good orchestras once more, to be able to give undivided attention to the music, and to have a radio that has practically natural tone reproduction. The “Merry Widow” comes in for its share, as do Gilbert & Sullivan. Lots of ballet music and, as I said, Viennese waltzes. In most groups some dope will always turn out a good orchestra selection for a jazz band, but I have them cornered here, since we have only this one American station!

Lt. O’Brien came down to see me about the coming trial again. Looks like I’ll be a witness—may even get an ambulance to take me to the trial. That would be a chance to see some of the boys again anyway.

Obie brought me word that I am now a 1st Lieutenant. Imagine the junior officer of the U.S. forces in Europe getting a promotion. Captain Fairbairn never told me he had me in for it, even. He recommended me after our engagement on Hill 310. That’s financially better than a star or other decoration, he says. Capt. Fairbairn is one of the squarest-shooting men I have ever seen. This increases my pay by a little over $30 a month. As soon as I can I’ll have that all added to your allottment. Makes my total pay now $300.34, as near as I can figure. I have lost all but one gold bar, anyway. 

It’s beginning to look as tho the coldest weather is all over here. It has been melting ever since the first of the month and today it is almost warm, like an early May day. Oodles of mud and water, but no snow left. All this weather talk is vitally interesting to an infantry man, so excuse me if it is not to you, Hon.

Our job in Alsace seems to be pretty well finished now. Where now? Maybe to our old stomping grounds further north. Hope not too far north, tho.

Everybody is pretty well oriented on Russia now, so I am currently engaged in research on a new talk. Have a copy of Edgar Snow’s “People On Our Side,” and plan to dig up something pretty erudite! Figure this one will be a lecture with fact presentation more than discussion.

I am now ready for some more letters. Our mail-orderly better get on the ball. You know, I have a game with him—giving him rank as he brings mail. He was up to master-sergeant when he brought those 18—but he is rapidly becoming a yard-bird again.

Bye now, Honey. I love you all the time, and think about you every minute. I hope everything is wonderful at home.

Always all yours,

Wallace.

February 12, 1945 Monday

France

Hello, dearest Marjorie,

It’s the same here as it was at Camp Wheeler’s hospital. They do not discharge a person until he is cured and in better condition than ever. I am cured, but still I stick around and no mention of leaving. Now don’t get me wrong, I’m not agitating to leave this haven at all. Am perfectly content to let nature take its course. Actually tho, I am waiting to go—heard that Capt. Fairbairn is already back with the company and that they are doing O.K. on their latest job. Don’t want to miss too much, after all that 2nd platoon is mine and they shouldn’t forget all about me. As I see it, they have either forgotten I am in the hospital, or they consider my orientation lectures too essential to interrupt. 

They tell me in the C. & R. dept. that the army is searching for clinical psychologists now. If I had been able to get a master’s degree I might have qualified for the job! Well, our chance will come sooner or later. The men of the C. & R. dept. are the most intelligent I have met in the army, particularly one sergeant from the Univ. of Cal. with whom I have a good talk most every day.

Went to church yesterday. The minister here is above average. The services are held in an interestingly designed building—the whole hall is shaped like a pointed arch—even thusly (!)-

The acoustics are terrible, but it is a pretty affair.

So much for now, Hon, I’ll write some more in a little.

I love you very much,

Wallace

P.S. You’d get a laugh from the number of letters I censor that are signed in this fashion:

Loads of love from your ever loving husbin to his itsy-bitsy toodles,

2nd Lt. Wallace A. Russell

Co C 56AIB APO 262

c/o P.M.N.Y.N.Y.

hugs & kisses 

February 9, 1945 Friday

France

Marjorie, honey – 

This is your stationery that I am writing on tonite. Best I’ve had for a long time, isn’t it? Thanks like everything, dear. It’s more fun to write on decent paper.

When I first came to the hospital, it was very cold, but recently it has thawed, and it has been above freezing for over a week now. Even had a nice blue sky today, the first for some time, and very beautiful. We had a lot of snow, but that has gone now, leaving mud and trickles of water. When you don’t have to live out-of-doors, early spring is a refreshing, pleasant season.

Ernie Pyle has returned, to the Pacific and with the navy, I see. He is still the representative-elect of the infantry, however. We like him because we somehow feel he is like us—it is phenomenal how he catches and expresses the feelings and experiences of a “G.I.” In reading the book you sent me by him, I had to wonder if perhaps the boat on which he went to Africa wasn’t the same one on which I came across. It sounded so much like it. He said in his first article how he hated the thought of returning, but felt impelled to do so. That is easy to understand.

Of course, we are all interested in the “Big Three” meeting, and everyone is still following the Russian army very closely. All are wistfully hoping for the war to end now. I feel that we still have a lot to do and that particularly the soldiers should realize it. Fretting the war’s end from day to day only wears them down, and now has many of them wishing for anything that will stop the firing—even if it is not unconditional surrender. Now is the time to work even harder and finish the thing up for [face ?], in my opinion.

Last nite I had a very nice time before I went to sleep. I just laid on my back with my eyes open and let my imagination run on our future. Not a new trick, but last night a new wrinkle came to me. We had gone to school awhile, and were out teaching. Don’t know whether it was in high school or college, but in any event we were working hard, and in addition to the regular work, I took up some individual clinical work afternoons. Just like Dr. Carroll was doing at U.N.H., I see now. Anyway the work spread—psychological tests, interviews, case records, all for the “10%” of students who need clinical aid. We liked the work, the need for it became obvious as we continued, and after a lot of nice dreaming, the work came to take all my time and the position of “school psychologist” was created with a fine office, and record room and interviewing room. Then I was very happy, and you were, too, so we cuddled together in bed and went to sleep contentedly and peacefully. 

It was very relaxing to me and I slept very deeply and long. Much better than usual. Do you ever have nites like that, when everything feels good and your mind just wanders to pleasant things? They aren’t frequent, but I enjoy them when they come. You are always in that kind of thought—I just don’t seem able to picture any future without you right with me all the time. That is why you are different from anyone else in the world. You’re the only person that knows and is part of those almost subconscious thoughts we have. My relations with everybody else go on completely in my conscious mind. They are excluded from affecting or sharing in genuinely “natural” thoughts—thoughts that show what you are, not what you think you are or what you want others to think you are. That’s not clear, nor is it even sound to divide conscious and subconscious thoughts. Perhaps the thing I want to say is simply that only you could talk to me in my sleep as you have and not wake me up. Other persons would startle me into awaking, but you speaking is as natural as having a thought myself. Of course, that ability only reveals to you how “all mixed up” my dreams are, but nevertheless it makes me love you more deeply than I thought I could ever love anyone. And who ever had a logical dream, anyway?

I love you like the dickens, Bunny

Wallace.