Hosp. – France
Dearest Marjorie,
It is always hard for me to express the most sincere things I think and feel in writing. Even when I am with you the words I use don’t themselves mean much, but I always feel as if we had an understanding when we were together that existed even if I couldn’t put it in words. That deep understanding, which I believe is our love, is a real thing that I always marvel at because I can’t explain it. It is there, that’s all. Something very solid that I didn’t try to put there, but which simply was, and was finally recognized, not made. As a rule, people are actors. They try to appear to be what they want to be, or what other people expect them to be. They become so engrossed in acting that often they themselves can scarcely recognize the real perdson beneath the appearance they try so earnestly and unconsciously to uphold. The most remarkable thing about us is that the “real person” in both of us stands out so dominantly in our relations. I always feel that basically I knew you and especially that you knew me so remarkably well, so much better than other persons know each other, that is it like a shining secret between us. Something wonderful that nobody else knows, something true that puts us so close together we become almost one person. Perhaps when persons are so close in real understanding, a good many artificial words become unnecessary. Could be that the things we think and feel most fundamentally are not conceived of in words at all, and so it is impossible to express them in writing.
Being necessarily apart makes it important to try to put in words many things we would automatically understand if we were together. I know you are there, I know I love you and want to be with you, I know I feel a thousand things each day that I share with you in my mind. Our “real persons” are so close that even in thinking of you I feel as if I were talking with you. Nevertheless, we need something more tangible to connect us than thoughts and emotions if we are going to share our lives as much as our closeness makes us want to. I suppose that is what all soldiers are trying to achieve in their letters home. The intent to share experiences and express beautiful relations is there, but the words used are such a confused mess of superlative platitudes that the result is usually sickening or absurd. Those ungrammatical jumbles don’t show the way I feel about you, Marjorie. I can’t explain how much I love you, and I mean that deep-inside, intimate, very, very sincere and almost unspoken harmony I feel with you, in a few worn and thoughtless phrases. It is not easy to put your deepest feelings down in a letter. Often I have to be satisfied with small talk and reminders that you still are close to me, for words don’t come to me for the more genuine thoughts I have of you all the time. But they are always sincere, and I will never put artificial feelings into them. When I can, I express the most sincere thoughts I have in the best way I can. Sometimes the real me isn’t the person I would most like to be, but I know you will understand, and I love you immeasurably and appreciate you always because of that. It makes my whole life warm and sunny to feel you there.
Perhaps you have noticed lately that my spirits have been up and down. Some days the fine weather and my easy life at the hospital make me feel very good. Other days the war and my prospects make me feel blue. I do have a pleasant life here, but I also have a chance to take stock of [the] present situation.
Actually, the situation is no different that it was in December. But now I see it a little differently. For one thing, the size of the war has been driven home to me. It is a war to the finish. There is still a lot left to do in Europe. Then everyone with a “high priority” (armor and platoon leaders always come first in anybody’s priority list) will head to the Pacific war. There is nothing to indicate that Japan will not insist upon a complete mop-up job before she quits. Those things take time, and are amazingly destructive. Even when they are over, their effects drag on in disease, famine and poverty. These are felt by everybody, win or lose.
And what are the prospects after the war? I agree with most of the world that the possibility of a just peace lies primarily with the U.S. And with Roosevelt gone, what is there but an unknown man who means well, and a Babbitt of a state secretary to do the job?
Yes, it is too early to be completely pessimistic about the post-war world. But one thing is certain, regardless of plans they make for the future the insidious effects of the war on people and on things will make it impossible to forget the war or overcome its destruction for many, many years.
I’m not just moaning’ for the lot of humanity. World politics apply directly to our personal lives. The longer the war or the larger the occupation armies, the longer the army will hang on to me. The more disjointed the world is after the war, the more difficult it will be for us to proceed with our own plans.
Well, what to do about it all? There’s really not much choice. Whatever slim chances there are for the world and for us, lie in finishing the war with thoroughness as fast as possible. The only thing more destructive would be a continuation of the war, or a conditional peace that could only be an armistice before another war. And after the war, we can only plug like everything for the longshot chance of establishing a permanent peace.
If things look badly, that is no reason to change your purposes. If things seem about to be ruined by hate, that is more proof that brotherhood is the right way. If nobody values truth more than propaganda, that’s all the more reason for those who do to stick to their guns. It would be pleasant if things always went well, but they just don’t. It is inevitable in a society that an individual is shaped more by society than he can shape society as he wants it. The best you can do is to decide on objectives as rationally as possible and work toward them. If you get pushed in the other direction, that at least does not change the value of the objective. If only it is in a lessening of opposition, the objective has gained something.
War is even more miserable and cruel than it is pictured. Nevertheless, the men who fight the war do so from the best of motives, and there is a possibility of making it worthwhile. War is always bad, but it may be the better choice of two choices. Fighting now is the best way to gain peace and good prospects, but it is a dangerous way, and can so easily do more harm than good. Society has put us in a position of seeking brotherhood through hatred, truth through arbitrary force. It can only be a necessary expedient, and one we can only hope to live through without losing the things we fight for. It is like retreating in hopes of finding a different route of advance. I sure hope we find the new route.
All my love,
Wallace.
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