Hello Hon,
Here we are all alone again tonite. I just got back from our now nightly officer’s school. Buk and Young are in London, Oley is in the hospital and here am I by myself in a messy tent. By the way, Oley is going to have a hernia operation that will take at least 10 weeks to recover from, so he is being dropped from the company with only dreams of ever getting back to it. That’s really bad, because he is a good worker, and my best pal in the 56th. I guess the fact that he is a college man, too, gave us something in common. We were the only “C” company officers who have been.
Lately I have been doing a lot of side jobs in addition to leading my platoon. These extra duties certainly make a liberal education of being an officer. Today I had the company payroll to get at the finance office—some 1700 pounds. Then I became the inventorying officer for our P.X. I had to oversee an inventory of the entire stock, make out a lot of forms, count all their money and swear that the place was financially sound and operating efficiently. They evidently thought I was from the inspector general or some such, because they gave me all the respect due him. I guess I made them think I knew what I was about. All I did was look reserved and businesslike and see that none of the papers I signed was incriminating. Tomorrow I may have to have to see that the engineers are building their bridges right! Of course, I am always advising our mechanics on how to run our motor pool. It’s wonderful, being expected to be an expert on everything—you have to learn fast to keep from getting into an embarrassing situation!
More on the side than anything, I have been reviewing the employment of my platoon. Officer’s school each night gives me a good chance to keep up on theory and most every day I get plenty of practical work in handling the platoon. Armored outfits have big platoons and there are a thousand things to keep in mind. Men, vehicles, weapons, tactics, security, etc., etc. Sometimes I wish I had certain parts of those notes you said you have been reviewing.
Tonite I finally got some paper to wrap your Xmas gift in. Please forgive the roughness of it all, it’s the best I could do. I only hope they reach you in good condition, and soon! I’ll get that little book off to the folks when I can, but I know you’ll look after the folks in case something goes wrong. Remember to get Bob a diary as a gift, as well as some other little thing. Make them all know that I am thinking of them for Xmas, but just can’t send much but my love. That goes particularly for Grammy, too. I’ve been several weeks trying to get yours in the mail.
My bedtime gets earlier and earlier as it gets colder and colder. Get very sleepy in the air all day. I love you, Honey, more than I can ever say.
Every bit of my love,
Wallace
Wallace's Tent on Salisbury Plain
Writing a letter with candle on clipboard, see Oct. 16 letter
Wednesday, January 12, 2011
October 29, 1944 Sunday
Dearest Bunny,
Here I am again, and with more to say than I can ever cover in an orderly manner. So please let me wander along saying whatever pops into my mind. Eventually I may cover everything.
I have been in London for the last three days. All by myself, but not nearly as lonely as you would think. In fact, it seemed good to have a little privacy and solitude after the too-communal life of the army for so long. Gave me a chance to “catch up” with myself. Necessary to get re-oriented every now and then. I appreciated being alone, too, after traveling in convoy where you have to mentally pull so many men and vehicles along with you. Had only me to worry about, so I could fly about very easily most anyplace. At that, I managed to leave my field bag in the train with most of my toilet articles – you can see I wasn’t thinking at all about appendages.
Oh, I was homesick a couple of times and thought about you being there most all the time. We would have done the same things, and had much more fun. But I preferred not to go with another officer because so few of them like to do just the things we do. You seemed very close to me all thru it, Hon. You were the closest thing to a companion I had – and you did very well, for I wasn’t lonely.
I went to London aboard a special train Thursday morning. Narrow little foreign trains, like the one that Sydney Greenstreet slept in in “The Mask of Dimitrios.” Remember? With the compartments? They ride as easily as our trains. By the way, “Dimitrios” is in London now – that makes Louisville, Abilene, and London that I have seen it advertized in.
Nicely enough, we were in a “London Fog” all day, so I didn’t see much scenery on the way in. Censorship won’t let me describe how London’s buildings have changed since the war started. Too bad. Anyway, when I got in to Waterloo station I took a taxi to the Jules Hotel. The taxi had right hand drive and all to make it seem English. I felt like Dr. Watson riding all alone in the rear seat. Over the Thames, to Picadilly Circus, to the hotel, now run for officers by the Red Cross. I signed in, settled into the most luxurious place I’ve been in in England. Sheets! A mattress! A hot bath! A flush toilet! I reveled in my room until I felt civilized. When I first arrived the shoe shine man thought I was just in from France, from the mud on the high-cut boots.
It was pretty well into the afternoon when I got fit to appear in public. The fog and the hour made sightseeing impossible on Thursday. So I had the people at the Red Cross arrange for me to see the Sadler Wells Ballet that evening. I took a walk around Picadilly, and had another one of those suffocating “Teas” at the Marble Hall Café. I entered the damn thing thru a rear door that took me into the Hall – very, very ornate and all of marble, -- by way of the stage! I was in the center of the stage before I knew where I was, so I continued in a stately manner on down a wide flight of maroon carpeted stairs. I tried to look like King George, because he is the only person that could have entered in such a conspicuous way. You see, there was a line maybe a block long waiting for tables at the normal entrance! Once in, tho, they couldn’t think of a thing but to give me a table. A little cart with teeny sandwiches came by, -- I took three. Then a cart with pastries – the kind we thought New Orleans should have. I regally pointed out the two I wanted, and they put them on my plate with a pair of big tweezers. Then a pot of tea came, and a pot of hot water to mix with it for the second cup. Didn’t have to order, it just came. I was the only American there! It was very, very – rawther!
I have yet to get a real meal from the English. I did get a lot of those pastries, like big tarts, or buns, or layer cake while in London, but no meals. Result of the war, no doubt.
Returning for my tickets, I found that the Ballet was sold out and that they had substituted tickets for – guess what? – The Merry Widow! I was pleased at the idea and took off at once to a 15 shilling seat – one of the best! It started at 6:15 and was over at 9. Blackout makes all theatres start by 6:30 or 6:45 anyway. The production was a lot like the one we saw – about on a par with it. The main difference was that Danilo was chiefly a dancer not a singer like Wilbur Evans (or was it Maurice?). He looked like an English version of Fred Astaire. Very graceful all thru. They put in a long boring mess of English slapstick in the second act, that was well left out in Boston. I sat right next to the horn and appreciated the music very much. “Vilia” was not as beautiful as Kitty Carlisle did it. Madge Elliot didn’t have the clear voice for it. It had a thousand memories, so you can imagine whom I was missing like the very dickens when I groped my way home in the fog and dark and went straight to bed. As in Boston, the music carried the play.
I didn’t mention that the theatre was very high with several tiers of boxes. They sold song sheets instead of souvenir programs, and they used a revolving stage that allowed quick changes of scene.
Friday morning I set out to do London with our tested and approved system. First I took a taxi tour of the main points. Took two hours, and we rode with the top of the taxi down. Was in a group of 5 soldiers. We saw all the things you’ve heard of in London—Fleet Street, Dickens’s “Curiosity Shop,” St. Paul’s Cathedral (no more impressive than the one near our camp), Big Ben, Westminster Abbey where just about everybody is buried, and the other places named on the sheet I will send you. It would take a book to tell about each one. It was all intensely interesting.
After the tour, I looked way ahead to evening, and decided to see another play. From such plays as “Uncle Harry,” “While the Sun Shines,” “Arsenic and Old Lace,” “Blithe Spirit,” “Peer Gynt,” I decided to try to get into the “sold out” production of Hamlet. Nothing low down about me. They said it was impossible, so I went directly to the theatre and squeezed out a single seat in the centre of the first balcony for 5 shillings, 6 pence. It was still morning so I went to the National Gallery of Art at Trafalgar Sq. They have only war pictures there now. After an hour or so there I left and looked all thru the many book stores on Charing Cross Road. Found a small copy of Hamlet and bought it. Felt very, oh so very, cultured when I returned to the National Gallery at one p.m. to hear a piano-violin recital and read away on Hamlet. But we know how hard Shakespeare is if you are not brushed up on it before hand. The concert was fine, too. Seemed wonderful after living in the mud so long. Quite a contrast!
After the recital, I took the “tube,” or subway, to the Tower of London. I saw it in the morning tour and had decided it was the place I’d most like to see in detail. Still following our system, you see. I saw it from top to toe, all the time looking for Anne Boleyn with ‘er ‘ead tooked underneath ‘er arm. Saw where she was beheaded, and all, but I guess she was out. Saw where Raleigh was imprisoned so long – (Read of that in Benet’s “Western Star”) and many other sights. The tower was built in the time of William the Conqueror!
Had a chance to breeze thru the whole of Hamlet before the play started at 6:30. It was wonderful. The scenery was simple, as it should be, but the acting and costumes were excellent. I caught every word, and am still remembering whole speeches from it. It was better than our “Falstaff” in “King Henry IV, Part II.” The play is full of life, seems natural, and gives meaning to a lot of lines that read only as so many words. Polonius was quite a humorous character, and they made several incidents really funny. Of course, Hamlet was a very complex character and you could speculate on him all night. It was a revelation of how Shakespeare still makes fine entertainment if you get him away from the “scholars.” Hamlet’s soliloquies were so engrossing that the whole house, tho packed, was as silent as a church, during them. [John Gielgud as Hamlet, Theatre Royal, Haymarket]
I slept late Saturday morning, I was so comfortable in a real bed. I had to hurry to get out to Buckingham Palace in time to see the changing of the guard. I just made it. It is very pompous, precise, and impressive. The British click their heels on the pavement as they march, so you can hear them tramp out each command. “About Face,” and you hear stamp, stamp, stamp, as they bang their feet on the stones. The band was of the best.
An American outfit was holding a review nearby, and we didn’t lose a thing in comparison to the Royal Guard. I think we are better in precision and snap, but lack the heavy dignity the British seemed to have.
Then I checked out and set out regretfully for camp. It was a great experience, and had given me a chance to rest up and get “on the beam” again. Seemed too short, tho.
I have already told you that the British are very politically conscious, and the social & political tracts find a good market on the streets. I bought a couple of small manuals on psychology—one on “Personality,” one on the “Inferiority Complex” to read on the way to camp. Soon after a man came up to me and said that he was interested in psychology, too. He talked with me for some time about British clinics and educational ways. He thought they should have more, but it seemed to me that the British were more conscious of the need for both clinics and adult education than we are.
On the train I have a long talk with a British aristocrat about the war and postwar problems. He told me how the British “socialized medical system” works. He was against it, as you might expect, and against the whole trend of social planning. And he justified himself well. I didn’t disagree with him because it is so hard to get the British to talk freely that I didn’t want to risk shutting him off. He was a conservative. In the U.S. he would be a devout republican. He commanded a battalion in the last war, so we talked over military things, too. Differences in British and American organization, etc.
Then I got back to camp and into the routine of camp once more. Today I am O.D., spending my time by the fire in the guardhouse. Just got my weekly P.X. ration, and that is giving me the bad habit of buying everything they will let me have. May lead to catastrophe if I ever get free in a 5&10 when I get back!
I meant to say earlier that your letters are coming thru swell now, seven to 10 days. And that they are appreciated just as much as you can imagine them to be. I love you so much, Bunny, and it makes me feel very confident and happy when you write and say that you love me and know I love you. You can always have that faith, honey, and I will always be equally sure that you love me. It makes everything all right when I know that we always have each other, even tho we aren’t together. It makes living alone very bearable. “I’ll Walk Alone” is a true theme song for these days; fits us perfectly. I’ll always walk alone, and love you until we can walk forever together. So long again, my Bunny. You are the best wife in the world. I am glad and thankful I was the lucky person to be your husband.’
Always all yours,
Wallace
Here I am again, and with more to say than I can ever cover in an orderly manner. So please let me wander along saying whatever pops into my mind. Eventually I may cover everything.
I have been in London for the last three days. All by myself, but not nearly as lonely as you would think. In fact, it seemed good to have a little privacy and solitude after the too-communal life of the army for so long. Gave me a chance to “catch up” with myself. Necessary to get re-oriented every now and then. I appreciated being alone, too, after traveling in convoy where you have to mentally pull so many men and vehicles along with you. Had only me to worry about, so I could fly about very easily most anyplace. At that, I managed to leave my field bag in the train with most of my toilet articles – you can see I wasn’t thinking at all about appendages.
Oh, I was homesick a couple of times and thought about you being there most all the time. We would have done the same things, and had much more fun. But I preferred not to go with another officer because so few of them like to do just the things we do. You seemed very close to me all thru it, Hon. You were the closest thing to a companion I had – and you did very well, for I wasn’t lonely.
I went to London aboard a special train Thursday morning. Narrow little foreign trains, like the one that Sydney Greenstreet slept in in “The Mask of Dimitrios.” Remember? With the compartments? They ride as easily as our trains. By the way, “Dimitrios” is in London now – that makes Louisville, Abilene, and London that I have seen it advertized in.
Nicely enough, we were in a “London Fog” all day, so I didn’t see much scenery on the way in. Censorship won’t let me describe how London’s buildings have changed since the war started. Too bad. Anyway, when I got in to Waterloo station I took a taxi to the Jules Hotel. The taxi had right hand drive and all to make it seem English. I felt like Dr. Watson riding all alone in the rear seat. Over the Thames, to Picadilly Circus, to the hotel, now run for officers by the Red Cross. I signed in, settled into the most luxurious place I’ve been in in England. Sheets! A mattress! A hot bath! A flush toilet! I reveled in my room until I felt civilized. When I first arrived the shoe shine man thought I was just in from France, from the mud on the high-cut boots.
It was pretty well into the afternoon when I got fit to appear in public. The fog and the hour made sightseeing impossible on Thursday. So I had the people at the Red Cross arrange for me to see the Sadler Wells Ballet that evening. I took a walk around Picadilly, and had another one of those suffocating “Teas” at the Marble Hall Café. I entered the damn thing thru a rear door that took me into the Hall – very, very ornate and all of marble, -- by way of the stage! I was in the center of the stage before I knew where I was, so I continued in a stately manner on down a wide flight of maroon carpeted stairs. I tried to look like King George, because he is the only person that could have entered in such a conspicuous way. You see, there was a line maybe a block long waiting for tables at the normal entrance! Once in, tho, they couldn’t think of a thing but to give me a table. A little cart with teeny sandwiches came by, -- I took three. Then a cart with pastries – the kind we thought New Orleans should have. I regally pointed out the two I wanted, and they put them on my plate with a pair of big tweezers. Then a pot of tea came, and a pot of hot water to mix with it for the second cup. Didn’t have to order, it just came. I was the only American there! It was very, very – rawther!
I have yet to get a real meal from the English. I did get a lot of those pastries, like big tarts, or buns, or layer cake while in London, but no meals. Result of the war, no doubt.
Returning for my tickets, I found that the Ballet was sold out and that they had substituted tickets for – guess what? – The Merry Widow! I was pleased at the idea and took off at once to a 15 shilling seat – one of the best! It started at 6:15 and was over at 9. Blackout makes all theatres start by 6:30 or 6:45 anyway. The production was a lot like the one we saw – about on a par with it. The main difference was that Danilo was chiefly a dancer not a singer like Wilbur Evans (or was it Maurice?). He looked like an English version of Fred Astaire. Very graceful all thru. They put in a long boring mess of English slapstick in the second act, that was well left out in Boston. I sat right next to the horn and appreciated the music very much. “Vilia” was not as beautiful as Kitty Carlisle did it. Madge Elliot didn’t have the clear voice for it. It had a thousand memories, so you can imagine whom I was missing like the very dickens when I groped my way home in the fog and dark and went straight to bed. As in Boston, the music carried the play.
I didn’t mention that the theatre was very high with several tiers of boxes. They sold song sheets instead of souvenir programs, and they used a revolving stage that allowed quick changes of scene.
Friday morning I set out to do London with our tested and approved system. First I took a taxi tour of the main points. Took two hours, and we rode with the top of the taxi down. Was in a group of 5 soldiers. We saw all the things you’ve heard of in London—Fleet Street, Dickens’s “Curiosity Shop,” St. Paul’s Cathedral (no more impressive than the one near our camp), Big Ben, Westminster Abbey where just about everybody is buried, and the other places named on the sheet I will send you. It would take a book to tell about each one. It was all intensely interesting.
After the tour, I looked way ahead to evening, and decided to see another play. From such plays as “Uncle Harry,” “While the Sun Shines,” “Arsenic and Old Lace,” “Blithe Spirit,” “Peer Gynt,” I decided to try to get into the “sold out” production of Hamlet. Nothing low down about me. They said it was impossible, so I went directly to the theatre and squeezed out a single seat in the centre of the first balcony for 5 shillings, 6 pence. It was still morning so I went to the National Gallery of Art at Trafalgar Sq. They have only war pictures there now. After an hour or so there I left and looked all thru the many book stores on Charing Cross Road. Found a small copy of Hamlet and bought it. Felt very, oh so very, cultured when I returned to the National Gallery at one p.m. to hear a piano-violin recital and read away on Hamlet. But we know how hard Shakespeare is if you are not brushed up on it before hand. The concert was fine, too. Seemed wonderful after living in the mud so long. Quite a contrast!
After the recital, I took the “tube,” or subway, to the Tower of London. I saw it in the morning tour and had decided it was the place I’d most like to see in detail. Still following our system, you see. I saw it from top to toe, all the time looking for Anne Boleyn with ‘er ‘ead tooked underneath ‘er arm. Saw where she was beheaded, and all, but I guess she was out. Saw where Raleigh was imprisoned so long – (Read of that in Benet’s “Western Star”) and many other sights. The tower was built in the time of William the Conqueror!
Had a chance to breeze thru the whole of Hamlet before the play started at 6:30. It was wonderful. The scenery was simple, as it should be, but the acting and costumes were excellent. I caught every word, and am still remembering whole speeches from it. It was better than our “Falstaff” in “King Henry IV, Part II.” The play is full of life, seems natural, and gives meaning to a lot of lines that read only as so many words. Polonius was quite a humorous character, and they made several incidents really funny. Of course, Hamlet was a very complex character and you could speculate on him all night. It was a revelation of how Shakespeare still makes fine entertainment if you get him away from the “scholars.” Hamlet’s soliloquies were so engrossing that the whole house, tho packed, was as silent as a church, during them. [John Gielgud as Hamlet, Theatre Royal, Haymarket]
I slept late Saturday morning, I was so comfortable in a real bed. I had to hurry to get out to Buckingham Palace in time to see the changing of the guard. I just made it. It is very pompous, precise, and impressive. The British click their heels on the pavement as they march, so you can hear them tramp out each command. “About Face,” and you hear stamp, stamp, stamp, as they bang their feet on the stones. The band was of the best.
An American outfit was holding a review nearby, and we didn’t lose a thing in comparison to the Royal Guard. I think we are better in precision and snap, but lack the heavy dignity the British seemed to have.
Then I checked out and set out regretfully for camp. It was a great experience, and had given me a chance to rest up and get “on the beam” again. Seemed too short, tho.
I have already told you that the British are very politically conscious, and the social & political tracts find a good market on the streets. I bought a couple of small manuals on psychology—one on “Personality,” one on the “Inferiority Complex” to read on the way to camp. Soon after a man came up to me and said that he was interested in psychology, too. He talked with me for some time about British clinics and educational ways. He thought they should have more, but it seemed to me that the British were more conscious of the need for both clinics and adult education than we are.
On the train I have a long talk with a British aristocrat about the war and postwar problems. He told me how the British “socialized medical system” works. He was against it, as you might expect, and against the whole trend of social planning. And he justified himself well. I didn’t disagree with him because it is so hard to get the British to talk freely that I didn’t want to risk shutting him off. He was a conservative. In the U.S. he would be a devout republican. He commanded a battalion in the last war, so we talked over military things, too. Differences in British and American organization, etc.
Then I got back to camp and into the routine of camp once more. Today I am O.D., spending my time by the fire in the guardhouse. Just got my weekly P.X. ration, and that is giving me the bad habit of buying everything they will let me have. May lead to catastrophe if I ever get free in a 5&10 when I get back!
I meant to say earlier that your letters are coming thru swell now, seven to 10 days. And that they are appreciated just as much as you can imagine them to be. I love you so much, Bunny, and it makes me feel very confident and happy when you write and say that you love me and know I love you. You can always have that faith, honey, and I will always be equally sure that you love me. It makes everything all right when I know that we always have each other, even tho we aren’t together. It makes living alone very bearable. “I’ll Walk Alone” is a true theme song for these days; fits us perfectly. I’ll always walk alone, and love you until we can walk forever together. So long again, my Bunny. You are the best wife in the world. I am glad and thankful I was the lucky person to be your husband.’
Always all yours,
Wallace
Thursday, August 19, 2010
October 25, 1944 Wednesday
Somewhere in England
Dear folks,
Please let me use the same excuse you do for not writing. I write Marjorie all the news, and in addition, it is hard to write letters here. Most of them are done in candlelight under conditions not exactly ideal for clerical work. Also I am roaming around considerably within the limits of this island.
I am receiving your letters well now, and naturally am very glad to get every one. I will tell you whatever I need – tho there is really nothing urgent yet. It’s going to be a cold winter, and my own body heat is about all I’ll get. Gloves, a scarf, V-mail forms are good. Soap and stationery are also scarce, but I have plenty now.
V-mail really goes very fast if you have any news to send. Good idea to sprinkle them in with “real” letters.
Ma, I hear you spanked Carlton for a glass of milk that you spilled. If you want to practice flicking a towel, you don’t have to take it out on your son!
The only member of the family I don’t hear from or about is Pa. Now, I am just as interested in him as anybody else and would appreciate an account of his activities. There must be some recent news, or as the army has it, “hot poop” concerning him.
Altho I am exposed to the elements 24 hours a day, I haven’t had as much as a sniffle this fall. I guess only civilized people get sick. I’ll write when I can.
With love,
Wallace
Dear folks,
Please let me use the same excuse you do for not writing. I write Marjorie all the news, and in addition, it is hard to write letters here. Most of them are done in candlelight under conditions not exactly ideal for clerical work. Also I am roaming around considerably within the limits of this island.
I am receiving your letters well now, and naturally am very glad to get every one. I will tell you whatever I need – tho there is really nothing urgent yet. It’s going to be a cold winter, and my own body heat is about all I’ll get. Gloves, a scarf, V-mail forms are good. Soap and stationery are also scarce, but I have plenty now.
V-mail really goes very fast if you have any news to send. Good idea to sprinkle them in with “real” letters.
Ma, I hear you spanked Carlton for a glass of milk that you spilled. If you want to practice flicking a towel, you don’t have to take it out on your son!
The only member of the family I don’t hear from or about is Pa. Now, I am just as interested in him as anybody else and would appreciate an account of his activities. There must be some recent news, or as the army has it, “hot poop” concerning him.
Altho I am exposed to the elements 24 hours a day, I haven’t had as much as a sniffle this fall. I guess only civilized people get sick. I’ll write when I can.
With love,
Wallace
October 25, 1944 Wednesday
Dearest Honey,
I just received five more of the very nicest letters I have ever received. I got the V-mail letters you wrote on the 17th as well as some earlier mail. That is very good time, I think. And shows that V-mail is very fast. I shall use it when I can get the forms.
I was relieved to see you had finally begun to receive my letters. They should come in pretty regularly now. I hope so, because if you value the letters as much as I do yours, they mean a great deal. They are the best presents you can send.
Today I think I will tell you some of the bad things about this place just to show you that I do not intend to paint things different from what they are, and to let you realize that there are not really many bad things over here.
About the worst thing is the weather. How it can be so cold and still rain all the time constantly amazes me. The only heat we have is the little stove in our tent and that is seldom going – fuel shortage. Things are always foggy and damp, and with long underwear, a wool sweater, a shirt and my field jacket, I am still cold most of the time.
The next thing is the goddam mud. Uncle Sam gave us some good overshoes, but it is very depressing to try to keep clean with 8 inches of mud over everything.
Next is the lack of lights, hot water, and flush toilets. If I ever get to take a nice warm shower in a nice warm room, I shall be a new man.
Now add trying to live on a dirt floor – no flooring at all – and eating without cups or silverware – and you have about all the gripes I can think of. Oh, yes, one more – you can’t get anything cleaned or pressed or washed in this country. About the only thing they can do is put a cake of laundry soap on our ration card once a month. This makes it very hard to be presentable in a Class A uniform.
Olewine is in the hospital for a week or 10 days to have the cartilage in his knee cut up a little. Still a result of his football collision with a 120 lb. Pfc.! That leaves me without companionship in my trip to London. Be able to see what I want to anyway, and I’ll pretend you’re around. I saw New York alone once, too.
Now if that’s all I have to complain about, I still have plenty to be thankful for. I am getting more of an education every day just by keeping my eyes open, and the army is giving me the kind of work that develops my leadership abilities and gives me responsibilities I am glad to take.
Most of all I am thankful for my very wonderful and understanding wife. I don’t know what I’d do without you, Hon. You make everything seem good and easy. And in just knowing you are there, I don’t get lonely or downcast. I don’t have to. There is plenty here to learn and much to profit from, and having you gives me reason for taking advantage of it all.
I love you always,
Wallace
I just received five more of the very nicest letters I have ever received. I got the V-mail letters you wrote on the 17th as well as some earlier mail. That is very good time, I think. And shows that V-mail is very fast. I shall use it when I can get the forms.
I was relieved to see you had finally begun to receive my letters. They should come in pretty regularly now. I hope so, because if you value the letters as much as I do yours, they mean a great deal. They are the best presents you can send.
Today I think I will tell you some of the bad things about this place just to show you that I do not intend to paint things different from what they are, and to let you realize that there are not really many bad things over here.
About the worst thing is the weather. How it can be so cold and still rain all the time constantly amazes me. The only heat we have is the little stove in our tent and that is seldom going – fuel shortage. Things are always foggy and damp, and with long underwear, a wool sweater, a shirt and my field jacket, I am still cold most of the time.
The next thing is the goddam mud. Uncle Sam gave us some good overshoes, but it is very depressing to try to keep clean with 8 inches of mud over everything.
Next is the lack of lights, hot water, and flush toilets. If I ever get to take a nice warm shower in a nice warm room, I shall be a new man.
Now add trying to live on a dirt floor – no flooring at all – and eating without cups or silverware – and you have about all the gripes I can think of. Oh, yes, one more – you can’t get anything cleaned or pressed or washed in this country. About the only thing they can do is put a cake of laundry soap on our ration card once a month. This makes it very hard to be presentable in a Class A uniform.
Olewine is in the hospital for a week or 10 days to have the cartilage in his knee cut up a little. Still a result of his football collision with a 120 lb. Pfc.! That leaves me without companionship in my trip to London. Be able to see what I want to anyway, and I’ll pretend you’re around. I saw New York alone once, too.
Now if that’s all I have to complain about, I still have plenty to be thankful for. I am getting more of an education every day just by keeping my eyes open, and the army is giving me the kind of work that develops my leadership abilities and gives me responsibilities I am glad to take.
Most of all I am thankful for my very wonderful and understanding wife. I don’t know what I’d do without you, Hon. You make everything seem good and easy. And in just knowing you are there, I don’t get lonely or downcast. I don’t have to. There is plenty here to learn and much to profit from, and having you gives me reason for taking advantage of it all.
I love you always,
Wallace
Saturday, May 30, 2009
October 24, 1944 Tuesday
Dearest Marjorie,
I hope my letters aren’t too badly mixed in sequence when you get them. Yours are pretty jumbled but they are all nicely dated and I can fit them in. I got another batch today, and I appreciate every one more than you can believe. They do wonders for my own personal morale, and not many people over here worry about that too much. It’s all interesting here, but so strange. You get so that something familiar is clung to very hard. Your letters are the nearest things to home I have. I love you for them, Honey. They say just what I feel. I am interested in everything you do.
Well, that new experience that cut off my last letter almost before I could say I love you was really something. I was made convoy commander of a large convoy from division to Liverpool and back. About the most responsible job I have had. I had 35 vehicles in my column and got them all in safely. It’s a long trip, and I got a chance to see England at close range. I headed the column in an open peep. We passed thru some very famous English towns – Newcastle for one, and the English Marlborough. Was in Liverpool for a day and a half and got around in it a lot. Stayed at a very famous former race track.
It’s almost ridiculous how every English child runs to an American with the inevitable V-sign with his fingers and the question “Have you got any gum?” They usually pronounce gum to rhyme with “broom.” The children and girls are very enthusiastic about G.I.’s and practically mobbed us whenever we halted. British soldiers and some old people are much cooler in their attitude.
The towns are beautiful and quaint. Look surprisingly like an old print in a book by Dickens. And they still have the old names for their pubs – “The King’s Head,” “Legs of Man,” “Bell and Crown,” “Hare and Hound,” “Royal Arms.”
Liverpool is big, but pretty dismal with its “dim-out” that is blacker than our black-outs and the still-censored bomb-damage of the early part of the war. I looked all around its municipal buildings, went thru its long, modern traffic tunnel, visited two if its theatres and roamed around the old part of town and the cathedrals. I saw a very good English movie “Mr. Emmanuel,” and an American film “It Happened Tomorrow.”
I was glad of the chance to see Liverpool again. The first time we went thru it at night and saw only dark silhouettes.
To be complete, I must tell you about the Women On The Street in Liverpool. It’s an important part of the present life of the town. You never saw so many frustrated women. In walking innocently down the street, they approach you singly or in pairs and strike up conversation “Have you got a match?” or gum, or a cigarette? They were particularly perturbed at an officer being unaccompanied and one whole “house” of seven insisted on introducing themselves to me! They are just matter-of-fact professionals and, of course, didn’t even interest me beyond surprising me that anyone could be so blunt and open about it. I would have been disgusted, only I thought that would be a puritanical and moralist attitude. It exists and is something to try to understand.
My driver was amazed also, at the vehicles we saw on the road – pony carts, gypsy wagons, 3-wheeled cars – until he said that he had reached the limit. Not even a nude woman could make him look over his shoulder any more, he said. And I guess it was the English that had Lady Godiva on the roads. They have everything on the king’s highway.
Glad you liked your trip to Rochester, Hon. You’ll have a time at Laura’s, too. She’s an excellent person. A good mother without sacrificing her cosmopolitan interests.
I love your letters very, very much, Bunny. I do think of you and feel you all the time. We are a wonderful pair and I’ll never do anything to break it up. Do not doubt that I will always tell you the truth sincerely. That is the basis of our understanding and as long as it is there we won’t go wrong. I always want to know how things really are with you, so don’t mind giving me the downs and blues with the good things. I’ll understand. I love you, Honey, and always will.
All yours, always,
Wallace
I hope my letters aren’t too badly mixed in sequence when you get them. Yours are pretty jumbled but they are all nicely dated and I can fit them in. I got another batch today, and I appreciate every one more than you can believe. They do wonders for my own personal morale, and not many people over here worry about that too much. It’s all interesting here, but so strange. You get so that something familiar is clung to very hard. Your letters are the nearest things to home I have. I love you for them, Honey. They say just what I feel. I am interested in everything you do.
Well, that new experience that cut off my last letter almost before I could say I love you was really something. I was made convoy commander of a large convoy from division to Liverpool and back. About the most responsible job I have had. I had 35 vehicles in my column and got them all in safely. It’s a long trip, and I got a chance to see England at close range. I headed the column in an open peep. We passed thru some very famous English towns – Newcastle for one, and the English Marlborough. Was in Liverpool for a day and a half and got around in it a lot. Stayed at a very famous former race track.
It’s almost ridiculous how every English child runs to an American with the inevitable V-sign with his fingers and the question “Have you got any gum?” They usually pronounce gum to rhyme with “broom.” The children and girls are very enthusiastic about G.I.’s and practically mobbed us whenever we halted. British soldiers and some old people are much cooler in their attitude.
The towns are beautiful and quaint. Look surprisingly like an old print in a book by Dickens. And they still have the old names for their pubs – “The King’s Head,” “Legs of Man,” “Bell and Crown,” “Hare and Hound,” “Royal Arms.”
Liverpool is big, but pretty dismal with its “dim-out” that is blacker than our black-outs and the still-censored bomb-damage of the early part of the war. I looked all around its municipal buildings, went thru its long, modern traffic tunnel, visited two if its theatres and roamed around the old part of town and the cathedrals. I saw a very good English movie “Mr. Emmanuel,” and an American film “It Happened Tomorrow.”
I was glad of the chance to see Liverpool again. The first time we went thru it at night and saw only dark silhouettes.
To be complete, I must tell you about the Women On The Street in Liverpool. It’s an important part of the present life of the town. You never saw so many frustrated women. In walking innocently down the street, they approach you singly or in pairs and strike up conversation “Have you got a match?” or gum, or a cigarette? They were particularly perturbed at an officer being unaccompanied and one whole “house” of seven insisted on introducing themselves to me! They are just matter-of-fact professionals and, of course, didn’t even interest me beyond surprising me that anyone could be so blunt and open about it. I would have been disgusted, only I thought that would be a puritanical and moralist attitude. It exists and is something to try to understand.
My driver was amazed also, at the vehicles we saw on the road – pony carts, gypsy wagons, 3-wheeled cars – until he said that he had reached the limit. Not even a nude woman could make him look over his shoulder any more, he said. And I guess it was the English that had Lady Godiva on the roads. They have everything on the king’s highway.
Glad you liked your trip to Rochester, Hon. You’ll have a time at Laura’s, too. She’s an excellent person. A good mother without sacrificing her cosmopolitan interests.
I love your letters very, very much, Bunny. I do think of you and feel you all the time. We are a wonderful pair and I’ll never do anything to break it up. Do not doubt that I will always tell you the truth sincerely. That is the basis of our understanding and as long as it is there we won’t go wrong. I always want to know how things really are with you, so don’t mind giving me the downs and blues with the good things. I’ll understand. I love you, Honey, and always will.
All yours, always,
Wallace
Wednesday, May 27, 2009
October 20, 1944 Friday
Somewhere in England
Dear Marjorie,
The mailman broke down today and shot two letters at me. One had the first set of pictures you sent on Sept. 22. The other was dated Sept. 26. It is true that V-mail does come thru much faster than regular mail, so if you want, sprinkle in a few of those. I like regular mail better, but they come thru very slowly. Air mail helps, too. Please note that my address does not include the division. That is not necessary and on occasion could hold up mail a giving away locations of a large unit.
It is too bad that K.T.C. does not offer the courses you need now. I found out that from today’s letter. That leaves you in a dangerous position, honey. Too much leisure can be as bad as being too busy. A few days of doing nothing always makes even little jobs seem hard to me. I would rather have you raising the most violent kind of hell than being too much of a lady of leisure. That is, the late-sleeping, chocolate-eating kind that dabbles futilely at this and that and does nothing. That kind ultimately loses the will to do anything solid or difficult.
Before you hit me, let me explain that I do not think you would ever become like that. But not being in school, you won’t have any real binding job; and that will make it easy for you to lose some of your efficient habits. I hope your will-power is better than mine when it comes to working without any stimulus other than the reward of work itself. Self-education that is more than a pastime is hard as the dickens. If it is the McCoy, it is the best education, however. If you can carve a curriculum for yourself, swell. If not, better learn how to weld.
I can see your point about finding young people to be with and young things to do. It’s very important, too. Do not join the Grapevine. It is enough to be the subject of their talks, without becoming a member. If you have to be with older people all the time, your idea of moving around – to Tamey, etc. is best. Find new acquaintances where you can, and try not to be limited or narrowed by Keene and its conservative code. I’m just getting at the same old idea, hon, of not “bogging down” to conventionalism, or forgetting that “living” our way means the broadest use of all our capacities. Action, not sleep, brings the best things. The world is too big and wonderful to not be actively looked for and appreciated.
There, my sermon is over. Ignore it if you wish, and in any event do whatever you think is best.
I had been looking forward a lot to those pictures. Now I’m waiting for the batch you sent the next day. I thought they were all very good and showed them all around. Pictures are the best souvenirs you can get. The one of the cathedral interested me a lot. In comparing the one near here (pure English Gothic) with it, New Orleans doesn’t match the older one at all for grace and beauty. Our picture has a solid look – “how firm a foundation” stuff – but the cathedral here, tho larger and made entirely of stone gives an impression of lightness and delicacy that is completely different. Has a much greater emotional effect.
Well, here comes a new experience. More later. Must run.
All my love,
Wallace
Dear Marjorie,
The mailman broke down today and shot two letters at me. One had the first set of pictures you sent on Sept. 22. The other was dated Sept. 26. It is true that V-mail does come thru much faster than regular mail, so if you want, sprinkle in a few of those. I like regular mail better, but they come thru very slowly. Air mail helps, too. Please note that my address does not include the division. That is not necessary and on occasion could hold up mail a giving away locations of a large unit.
It is too bad that K.T.C. does not offer the courses you need now. I found out that from today’s letter. That leaves you in a dangerous position, honey. Too much leisure can be as bad as being too busy. A few days of doing nothing always makes even little jobs seem hard to me. I would rather have you raising the most violent kind of hell than being too much of a lady of leisure. That is, the late-sleeping, chocolate-eating kind that dabbles futilely at this and that and does nothing. That kind ultimately loses the will to do anything solid or difficult.
Before you hit me, let me explain that I do not think you would ever become like that. But not being in school, you won’t have any real binding job; and that will make it easy for you to lose some of your efficient habits. I hope your will-power is better than mine when it comes to working without any stimulus other than the reward of work itself. Self-education that is more than a pastime is hard as the dickens. If it is the McCoy, it is the best education, however. If you can carve a curriculum for yourself, swell. If not, better learn how to weld.
I can see your point about finding young people to be with and young things to do. It’s very important, too. Do not join the Grapevine. It is enough to be the subject of their talks, without becoming a member. If you have to be with older people all the time, your idea of moving around – to Tamey, etc. is best. Find new acquaintances where you can, and try not to be limited or narrowed by Keene and its conservative code. I’m just getting at the same old idea, hon, of not “bogging down” to conventionalism, or forgetting that “living” our way means the broadest use of all our capacities. Action, not sleep, brings the best things. The world is too big and wonderful to not be actively looked for and appreciated.
There, my sermon is over. Ignore it if you wish, and in any event do whatever you think is best.
I had been looking forward a lot to those pictures. Now I’m waiting for the batch you sent the next day. I thought they were all very good and showed them all around. Pictures are the best souvenirs you can get. The one of the cathedral interested me a lot. In comparing the one near here (pure English Gothic) with it, New Orleans doesn’t match the older one at all for grace and beauty. Our picture has a solid look – “how firm a foundation” stuff – but the cathedral here, tho larger and made entirely of stone gives an impression of lightness and delicacy that is completely different. Has a much greater emotional effect.
Well, here comes a new experience. More later. Must run.
All my love,
Wallace
Wednesday, March 11, 2009
October 18, 1944 Wednesday
Dearest Marjorie,
Tonite I am writing you from the cool but well equipped battalion HQ. Reason: I am the battalion duty officer. Of course, my old typing technique has not left me in the months that I have been away from a typewriter. I am still as good as ever. Any questions?
Last night I started a letter to you and never did get it finished. So I will start all over again tonite. First, the news of the day. Oley got his first lieutenancy, at long last. He has rated it for some time as the anti-tank platoon leader. That pleased everyone except a few who felt that they should have come first. You know how they are. Now I am hoping that Lt. Fairbairn gets his captaincy, and we will have the rank we need in C co.
Today the officers got their monthly ration of liquor. There was only a little gin and some eight quarts of Scotch. We had an officers’ meeting and decided to raffle it off. We all drew a tag from a can. Some drew blank sheets and others drew “Scotch” and some drew “Gin” sheets. I hit is for a Scotch, so I am now one of the eight richest men in the battalion! Scotch is very rare over here and the average man goes mad over it. I haven’t done that, but in this cold weather it is well appreciated now and then. Much more so than in the hot old Texas weather.
The last couple of days Oley and I have been handling the company all alone. I had the pleasure of signing the morning report as the C.O. yesterday. There haven’t been many important decisions to make, I admit, but it has been good experience. Makes my platoon seem like a smaller job to handle. Lt. Fairbairn will be back from London tomorrow.
Well, I have to finish now. I love you honey.
All yours,
Wallace
Oct. 19, 1944
Hello, again,
I’ll add a few words to this now wrinkled letter. Hiked and played football today. Our new general spoke to us today. He is O.K. Gee, I love you Honey. Always. Please don’t forget it. How I wish I would get a letter from you!
All my love,
Wallace
Tonite I am writing you from the cool but well equipped battalion HQ. Reason: I am the battalion duty officer. Of course, my old typing technique has not left me in the months that I have been away from a typewriter. I am still as good as ever. Any questions?
Last night I started a letter to you and never did get it finished. So I will start all over again tonite. First, the news of the day. Oley got his first lieutenancy, at long last. He has rated it for some time as the anti-tank platoon leader. That pleased everyone except a few who felt that they should have come first. You know how they are. Now I am hoping that Lt. Fairbairn gets his captaincy, and we will have the rank we need in C co.
Today the officers got their monthly ration of liquor. There was only a little gin and some eight quarts of Scotch. We had an officers’ meeting and decided to raffle it off. We all drew a tag from a can. Some drew blank sheets and others drew “Scotch” and some drew “Gin” sheets. I hit is for a Scotch, so I am now one of the eight richest men in the battalion! Scotch is very rare over here and the average man goes mad over it. I haven’t done that, but in this cold weather it is well appreciated now and then. Much more so than in the hot old Texas weather.
The last couple of days Oley and I have been handling the company all alone. I had the pleasure of signing the morning report as the C.O. yesterday. There haven’t been many important decisions to make, I admit, but it has been good experience. Makes my platoon seem like a smaller job to handle. Lt. Fairbairn will be back from London tomorrow.
Well, I have to finish now. I love you honey.
All yours,
Wallace
Oct. 19, 1944
Hello, again,
I’ll add a few words to this now wrinkled letter. Hiked and played football today. Our new general spoke to us today. He is O.K. Gee, I love you Honey. Always. Please don’t forget it. How I wish I would get a letter from you!
All my love,
Wallace
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