April 2, 1945 Monday

Hello Honey,

This stationary isn’t very fancy, but you know how things are in this line in the E.T.O. I feel lucky to have anything to write on – my only source of notebooks for official business has been the German army. They have a big supply of very fine quality notebooks. Much better than our own, and each non-com and officer has one or more. Stiff covers, lined, very good deal. 

I seem to be coming out of my lethargy automatically. Spontaneously today I did quite a lot of reading and wrote a letter to the folks. It is rather fun to see just how much you’ll do without forcing yourself at all. It sure has been good just to lay around and have a completely natural rest. Soon I may work up to orientation lectures, who knows?

A new warrant officer moved in to the bed next to mine last night. He had some Belgian francs with him. I have not been in Belgium, Hon, but I begged some of it from him and will send it home to you to add to the pile of things you must have already. By the way, I wonder if you have yet received the box of Paris souvenirs, and also the box of coins, I have sent you. Probably not. I understand it takes quite a few weeks for them to get to the States. To completely jumble the sense of this paragraph, I’ll end it by saying that I have been in Luxembourg, which is a romantic little state.

Now to review my reading for today. It has been weasel-reading, I confess. That is, it was all from a magazine “Omnibook,” which contains condensations of real books. As a rule, I don’t enjoy condensations, and don’t consider them valid or valuable reading. But I did have some fun with them today. I read “China to Me,” by Emily Hahn. She certainly was quite a character. Wrote a book about the Soong sisters, married a Chinaman and had a child by a British officer, only to accept repatriation to the U.S. on the Gripsholm. She was an uninhibited sort, anyway, and a typical international character. No observable moral code, no strong convictions, but brilliant and realistic. Freedom from conventionality was her most admirable quality.

Then I breezed on to “Lost in the Horse Latitudes” by the author of “Low Man on a Totem Pole” [H. Allen Smith]. That brought me a few good laughs. I think the humor suffered from the condensation, tho, because it seemed awfully forced in the version I read. Both Smith and James Thurber write very much in the style of Robert Benchley, but neither one can touch him, in my opinion.

Finally, I found a condensation of “Brainstorm” by Carlton Brown. I have not finished it yet, but it is the most interesting of all. It is the story of a man going insane, and his experiences in recovering. I’ll tell you more about it when I have finished it.

Say, Hon, first you know you’ll be reaching the end of your current activities. Oh, not too soon, but with spring well here, can summer be far behind? You will have your degree, I presume, and school in Westmoreland will be over. What then? We know the hue of my future – O.D. for some time yet, I imagine. So will you forgive me if I think about your future? I like to think about it because the opportunities are unlimited. You can do just about anything you really want to. You might be able to travel some, or study music some more, or even get with that book of yours. Of course, having Grammie to consider might be something of a limiting factor, and also consideration for our bank roll – but as long as it is going the right way I don’t want you to think of that too much. What would you really like to do? That’s what I’d like to have you do, Hon. Even drinking root beer on the Russells’ lawn sounds good to me. Very good, in fact. It’s nearly time to think about getting those battered lawn chairs out. And the croquet set – remember when I hit you in the head with a mallet? One of my romantic memories!! I promise never to do it again, Hon, if you’ll only play with me again. I love you even if I do make such unconscious attempts at manslaughter.

‘Nite now, my Bunny,

Here’s dreaming of you,

Wallace.

April 2, 1945 Monday

France – Hosp.

Dear folks,

This letter should prove beyond the shadow of a doubt that my heart is in the right place as far as writing to you is concerned – and perhaps it will make up for the occasions when I was apparently neglecting you. 

I am still enjoying a completely useless life as a bed patient. All my meals are brought to me on a tray and a nurse rubs my back every other day. Many other luxuries are tendered me, too – those are just examples.

Soon, no doubt, I will start moving around more, since now the stitches are in. As soon as they are removed, a little exercize will be in order. 

The British are changing their time today. They were already on daylight saving and now they are going even further – they just won’t know what to do with all their daylight. That has caused a little confusion in our routine today, but I think we’ll make out all right.

The walking officers in this hospital are waging a feud with the assigned officers here. It seems that Patient Officers have been barred from going to the movies nights and also from going to the Officers’ Club here. That very naturally burned them up, so they have been putting notices on the bulletin board, advertizing “parties” to be held “For Patient Officers Only.” They put on a big campaign for a “party” held last night. The announcements sounded very exciting. They described in glowing words the attractions – fruit juice, music, news comments by William Joyce (Lord Haw Haw), etc. Of course, it was our regular evening’s activities, but several nurses tried to crash the gates of our “exclusive” party.

What do you think of the news? It certainly sounds good, but I have grown to be a skeptic on such things. Ever since I left the States I have been censoring mail in which the end of the war was expected in a few days. It always takes longer than optimistic Americans expect.

Hope you folks all had a lively and pleasant Easter. Did Carlton get enough Easter eggs? I remember I never used to. ----

With Love,

Wallace.

April 1, 1945 Sunday

France, – Hosp.

Dearest Marjorie,

Happy Easter, Hon – or I might say Happy April, fool! But I won’t say anything like that. In our usually slap-happy ward there hasn’t been even one April fool’s joke. Just the usual run of G.I. humor.

Most of the men went to church today, but I haven’t got permission to leave the ward yet. In fact, Honey, I am in the same state I was last time. I haven’t a bit of personal clothing or equipment. I have been able to hang on to a few francs and my identification, tho, so I don’t feel quite as bereft as before. Besides, I am now adjusted to putting complete and infinite faith in Uncle Sam for all things. Whatever he doesn’t supply, the Red Cross does, so I have no worries whereof I shall eat or wherewith I shall be clothed. (I told you yesterday I was going to be a modern Christian!) Well, the Red Cross done noble again, and brought a nice Easter lily for the ward. It isn’t my idea of a real Easter lily at all. It’s orange and to all appearances the bloom is upside down, but that is what they said it was. The green looks like a lily, anyway.

A couple of my current buddies are being shipped to England, or the U.K. as it is known here. That’s United Kingdom, in case you know as little as I did when I left the States. They are more serious cases than mine. I can’t seem to get beyond Com Z – communication zone. Some real serious cases are Z.I.’d – zone of interior, which is the U.S. (of sacred memory). 

I can make a further report on my cigarette research. I can state positively that Chesterfields are a milder cigarette, but that they do not retain their shape and tightness of packing as well as Luckies or Camels. However, there is too little difference among the top popular brands to warrant being arbitrary in choosing any one brand. There is a notable difference between the top ones and such weeds as Raleigh’s, Chelseas, etc. I haven’t given Phillip Morris a valid test yet.

Under each bed in the ward there is a cardboard carton. It is used to hold clothing that is brought in, but as I have said, I have none. So I drew a big Chesterfield box that I had no use for. Just now, with no more results than a very dirty look from the ward boy, I took my jack knife and cut out one side of the box, to use as a writing board on my own bed. It will enable me to write any time without waiting for the wooden board we usually use. I tell you this only to show my amazing initiative. I shall now do all my writing to you on a two-inch high sign proclaiming that Chesterfields satisfy.

On Easter I am always reminded of the Dahl cartoon that showed a news photographer snapping the Easter parade – a rich man, a deb, a socialite family, etc., all formally and colorfully dressed. Finally an ordinary “average” man comes along in a business suit and says to the photographer, “Never mind me, I go to church every Sunday.” Also do you remember the “New Yorker” cover with a religious frame of trumpeting angels, with saints et al looking toward the center, where in a bursting halo stood a silly little Easter hat? [April 4, 1942] I liked that. 

Aside from these few incidents and thoughts my Easter has been uneventful. Pleasant, tho. I shall look forward to the letter you will probably write me about your activities today. Did you go to a sunrise service? Sing in the choir? Eat ham and eggs at my folks house, maybe? In any event, I have had a nice picture of you in a fresh spring outfit doing something enjoyable. Hope the day was a good one for you, my dear, and that we never have to spend another one apart. Easter season means a lot to us personally because of past events and by right we should pass it intimately together. I love you as if we had spent today together, renewing our promises.

All of my love,

Wallace

March 31, 1945 Saturday

Dearest Marjorie,

You will have to forgive me if I’m not my usual sparkling self today. I was operated on as per schedule this a.m. They use a local anesthetic but augmented it with about the strongest sleeping pill you ever saw. Consequently I have had to pull my eyelids open ever since I got back, and I can still feel the effects of the drug.

The operation was a success, and my leg is sore as a son of a gun right now. I expected that, tho, and it will last until there is more than the stitches holding the thing together. The doctor said I was very inconsiderate to pick those particular spots to get hit. It was hard to work on it – being on the backside of the knee. I had to be on my stomach part of the time and on my right side some.

Tomorrow is Easter, so yesterday and today I have been checking over the Easter story in the little testament they gave me when I left O.C.S. It is a beautiful story and gives you a lot to think about. Of course, as a psychologist, you have to give the whole thing a figurative interpretation. Nevertheless, the substance of Christianity is very sound and lifting. It goes much deeper than the physical activities described. I imagine someday I’ll become some sort of modern Christian. At least, emotionally. It is a mystery religion and therefore very nebulous. But it is based actually in truth and love and sincerity, and goes to surprising depths. It goes too deep and is too involved in allegory for me to accept completely. But it does have very basic realities when interpreted thoughtfully.

I imagine you have something new for Easter. What is it? A complete outfit like that robin’s egg blue one you got one year, or one of those high, turban-like hats I saw all over Paris? Spring is really your time of year, Hon. It gives you a chance to wear all those bright, neat, and shapely outfits you design and look so well in. Spring and you go very well together, if you will pardon my poetic thought. It is the time of year that goes best with your character and appearance. Clean, new, promising, cheerful. Wish I could spend it with you. Well, anyway, Bunny, we have a nice future to think of – may it come soon.

I can see that I am making handsful of mistakes today. Please blame it onto the sleeping pill. I write a few lines, then fall back and snooze for a time. Then I wake up and write a little more. The body is very reluctant to write, tho the mind is anxious to. I like to write down just what I think as it comes. Sometimes before emotional blocks or some such have made it hard for me to write haphazardly, but I haven’t noticed that since I have been in the hospital this time. I feel as tho my mind had been freed from something that had been holding it back. Perhaps it was the little shock of the Herrlisheim deal. That was horrible in a very big sense, and I can see how it would cut off normal thoughts for a time. It was a rough thing to accept. Now it is a little further away, bright spring weather is here and I have had time to think it all thru. Consequently I feel in a very spring-like mood now. As tho things were starting over. Things look fine, and tho maybe I feel more incentive to work for other people, I am still interested in my own future. 

Music does a lot to make a mood, and no doubt the well-chosen songs I hear over the radio have helped to make me feel good. Anyway, I certainly have an extremely refreshing and gratifying case of spring fever. I love you completely and happily and my Easter wish is that you feel the same way about me. 

Every bit of my love,

Wallace.

March 30, 1945 Friday

France

Dear Ma and Pa,

Instead of giving stock market reports on “Radio Luxembourg,” the only station I can get on the little radio near my bed, they spend whole programs giving reports of the height of the Rhine at every city along its length. Each day I listen carefully to every rise and fall of Europe’s “Ol’ Man River” for no good reason except that it makes me feel like Mark Twain.

I love the monotony of life here at the 58^th General. Each day is just the same, and being in bed most of the time even cuts down my usual local reconnaissance. So I just lie here and write letters and meditate. I haven’t even felt the urge to read much. I am too busy sleeping and appreciating the comfort here.

My big job yesterday was to clip my moustache. Cut it down from a big Groucho Marx affair to the more chic Clark Gable type. That makes it hard to spot from a distance again. Perhaps, it’s best that way.

“Good Friday” today. I remember Churchill said “pessimistically” last fall that the war might last until Easter! Well, any nation with sense would have quit by now, but it seems that we’ll have to “move in” on Germany rather than get any formal surrender. That takes time, and when papers say “no organized resistance” that doesn’t slow down the speed of shots from isolated guns at all. I am continually upset over those “no opposition” reports. It’s true enough for the “big picture” but unfortunately individuals have to face a “little picture” that may be very difficult.

Every night we listen to a stimulating talk by Lord Haw Haw. His twist of the news is very amusing. His logical manner and serious concern over the plight of the English is really something. His patient sarcasm is about the funniest thing we get on the air. It seems very peculiar to me to listen to regular German programs and to their programs given especially for us. Also we pick up programs we put on for the Wehrmacht. They are all very good programs with nice music and subtle digs. It’s like waging a war of spitballs right along side of the real stark thing. The front line life and these programs are miles apart.

Well, Doc said he would sew up my leg tomorrow. These wet bandages are fine – the soreness is gone and the penetration looks clean and neat. 

Keep the pot boiling on the home front, people; I know I’ll get your letters sometime, so I’ll assume all is O.K. with you until they come. What are Carlton’s latest adventures?

Your loving son,

Wallace.

P.S. Thank Aunt Flossie for her very welcome cards and letters to me.

March 30, 1945 Friday

France

Dearest Marjorie,

Today we have the same pleasant routine. Sleep, smokes, conversation, radio. It’s taking me longer than usual to get saturated with idleness. But as long as I enjoy lying between two sheets more than anything else, I won’t venture out. Don’t think I just lay here because of sickness or anything, because I feel fine and rested and cheerful. Walking with the crutches is a chore, tho – even so, I’m secretly glad for the good excuse to stay supine. (I knew I’d be able to work that word in!)

It seems that the European radio stations carry more classical music than our own. I like that. There have been two choral Easter works today, in addition to the usual orchestral programs. Heard a string orchestra play Intermezzo from Cavalleria Rusticana the best I have ever heard it today. That’s a wonderful peaceful thing. 

The Red Cross does a good job keeping patients occupied here. In addition to books, they provide materials for making little things. They have some red cloth that can be made into handkerchiefs with geometric designs. All you have to do is pull out certain threads to make the design you want. It is a sight to see us tough combat officers busily pulling out strings to make dress hankies and scarves! More in character are the holsters made from captured leather, or the pistol grips from plasti-glass. The Red Cross lady comes around every other day with chocolate bars, comics, tooth-brushes, and most everything else. Chaplains of various faiths call regularly, too. So you seem the occupational therapists are doing a valuable job here. Morale is very high in this part of the hospital. I have seen no other parts, you see. 

I haven’t seen the info. & education dept. at work here yet but I will check up on it when I can. I still have a yen to get into that.

American soldiers are having an unlimited opportunity to engage in their favorite activity of souvenir hunting, or as it is frankly called, looting. Often it actually amounts to that. Since just about everything in Germany is at their disposal, their natural reaction is to want to take it all home. All front line troops have a maniacal desire for a luger, and most of them have them by now. I know I have sent you a few little things, but it is nothing compared to the things I could have. But as I see it, the only legitimate reason for looting is to get a souvenir, and I don’t care much if I don’t have souvenirs of this war. Sometimes I find it repulsive the way they greedily grasp at prisoners’ watches, medals, anything. As a result maybe I lean the other way when it comes to taking personal property. Most of it gets lost before anything is done with it, anyway.

Tomorrow they are going to sew up my leg, and so a new phase of my stay will start. It won’t be quite such an extensive job as they had to do on my arm. The two openings are really very small. They are going to use a local anesthetic for the work. That makes me a little sad, because I really enjoy pentothol, the dreamy stuff I have had so often before. It must be habit-forming, because I’m getting so I just look forward to the shots.

Well, if they won’t let me have pentothol, I can get along – I do some pretty good dreaming all by myself. About you, hon. I like to imagine what you are doing at any particular time. And knowing your environment as I do, I bet I do a pretty good job at it. I think of you playing the piano, writing a letter to me, visiting my folks and laughing at some of Bob’s remarks, or studying either as a student or a teacher. Which do you feel like most, a scholar or a teacher? The very best state is to be a little of both, don’t you think? We’ll always be learning something, won’t we? That will be the yeast that will make life interesting. (Tho it may not make our dough rise – heh, heh, heh). At any rate, we’ll never be bored, and what more could we ask? What with our music, our home, our travels, our reading, our work, and our hours together, we’ll fill every minute with life. Let’s prepare to be very exceptional people, my dearest! Gee, I love you, Hon, for making the realization of these dreams possible.

You’re my wonderful wife and 

I love you all to pieces,

Wallace

March 29, 1945 Thursday

France

Dearest Hon-

My life is a series of naps. I wake up to eat, to smoke and to write. I haven’t done much reading yet, but it will come to that soon. Can follow the news very well here by radio and the “Stars & Stripes.” Today they say the U.S. was blowing its top yesterday over a false peace rumor. Must have been very disillusioning if it was taken seriously. General Eisenhower agrees with me (!) that the war here will end as an occupation rather than as a formal surrender. You know, the German people don’t like us even a little bit. It is a peculiar feeling to conquer a German town. Often we just punch a hole for a column thru the main street. All civilians line up along the way and watch us go by. But it’s not like the parade thru France. They are cold, sullen, with not a flicker of softness. Occasionally a woman stands crying her heart out as we go by, but usually all of them, even to little kids just able to walk, stand with a white handkerchief in their hand and stare in a defiant way that curses us more than if they said anything. We return the animosity and never take our fingers from our triggers. We take their towns, but they are not defeated. There’s no surrender in their attitude, only the white flags show that right now they are unable to shoot back. In most towns there are a great many Poles, Frenchmen, Russians, etc. that are used for labor. They greet us enthusiastically, but we take no chances even with them. I have always made friends with the children in other countries, but it would be “fraternizing” in Germany. Sometimes the little ones flock around me as if they know I’d like to be friends with them, and it is hard as can be for me to be tough and shew them away. German babies are as cute as anybody’s!

Spent quite a lot of time today in trimming my moustache. It got pretty long and ragged there for a time, so I had quite a bit of cutting to do. Maybe I cut off too much. I’m trying a new style now. It doesn’t take long to change from one to another. I have had it for quite a long time now, haven’t I? Never have yet found just the style that I like best. We’ll have to decide when I get back – after all, it is at least half yours, Hon. I keep it for you.

You know the radio I have here. The only station that comes in well on it is Radio Luxembourg. Now Radio Lux. is a good station except that it tries to give pleasure to peoples of four different languages. This forces it to spend ¾ of its time giving its identification to all concerned, and now, since the invasion it has decided to add English translations to its announcements. That further complicates things, but we could take that if they didn’t insult the Americans by making them in Basic English for our benefit. I’ll probably be fluent in all four European languages soon, but will forget all English words of more than two syllables. Well, c’est la guerre!

I hope that in the letters you have sent me you have told me all about your music teaching and your K.T.C. [Keene Teachers’ College] reactions. Does it seem like old times to be back at school? And what have you learned from teaching music? Hope you found it as much fun as you expected to, Hon. You have certainly been busy according to the last letters I received, and I am glad because it no doubt makes time go faster. No doubt you can find some real enjoyment in a lot of it, too. It would be a fine thing if the time before we are together again could be profitable and enjoyable, and not just a passing of days. For me, tho they have not been enjoyable, the days have been full of experiences of real value. My sight-seeing has been limited, but I have met people, seen things, organized activities, and felt reactions that are more powerful than any I had known before. I’ve seen a lot of the realities we talk about, some even more stark than I thought they could be. You’ll be able to tell more than I how much they changed me. One thing I know is the same, Hon, – the way I feel about you. Also the things we want to do and have. They are the same and they are the important things. I’ll always love you, dearest, and wherever I go or whatever I do you’ll be the one I’m thinking of and working to get back to. And when I do get back we’ll fulfill all the dreams we have. In fact, just seeing you will be realizing my greatest one.

All my love, always,

Wallace.