February 4, 1945 Sunday

France

Hello folks--

That man Riley never had the life I have here at the hospital. I have had a chance to do so much reading on current affairs and, particularly, on Russia, that tomorrow I am taking a class on Postwar Russia for the Education Dept. here. They asked me to take some of the classes and the chance to keep busy appealed to me. The Information and Education Dept. of the army will expand greatly as soon as the was is over. Unless I can get out right away, I may try to get into it then. 

Of course, we are following the news closely, but we aren’t counting on the war in Europe ending right away as many people back home are alleged to do. There are an awful lot of Germans and they seem determined to fight right down to the last corner of Germany. At least, the ones I saw were, and they didn’t lack a thing in the way of equipment. More power to the Russians—but if they win the war soon and alone, I’ll be pleasantly surprised. 

The mail situation here is “something to write home about.” I haven’t received a letter for a very long time. I know there must be plenty on the way, but they got pretty well mixed up on the way and never did find me. I hope my letters get to you, but like Hattie Davis “I never received those letters you wrote.”

While I am at the hospital, which has all the necessary offices and forms, I am looking into the army extension study program. Probably I’ll be caught without time to follow thru on it, but I have applied for an extension course in Educational Psychology from the University of Minnesota. I thought I’d start the wheels rolling, anyway, and see if I couldn’t swing it. The mails are so slow that I may be able to do so by the time the lessons start coming.

I have no chance to spend money here, so I’ll enclose a little curio as a curio for you, a franc is worth about 2 cents. I had a whole set of souvenir money from England and France, but it was lost at the same time I lost my wallet and identification. This is invasion money, of course. Old French money is much bigger—1000 franc noted are about the size of this piece of stationery [9” x 6”].

Here’s wishing every thing at home is in shape. Happy Birthday, Ma, tho this will be late. Bye for now,

Love,

Wallace.

February 4, 1945 Sunday

[V-Mail]

France

My dearest Marjorie,

Have been laying stagnant the last couple of days—drinking fruit juice and sleeping. Have made some new contacts, tho, in the Information and Education section at the hospital. I have applied for a Univ. of Minn. extension course in Ed-psych! I will surely be back to duty before the material comes, but I’m just hoping there will be time between commitments to do a little on it. Also as a result of my new contacts, I am going to do some orientation classes here at the hospital—they believe in making the patients earn their keep, I guess. I am glad of the chance to be occupied.

I love you, all the time, my Honey.

All yours,

Wallace.

February 1, 1945 Thursday

France

Dearest Honey,

How the home front manages to keep any morale at all is a mystery to me sometimes. Just finished censoring a heap of letters from the hospital and of all the dismal complaints! Those that are wounded badly do not drool around so much, but these guys with scratches like mine—if the world was as bad as they picture it, we’d better fold up right now. The worst one, the one that soured me on the lot, was from the Chaplain’s assistant here! Oh, he had troubles—his poor sinuses, losing weight, and his music all wrinkled up. Tush, tush.

Well, I am disgustingly healthy still, and have nothing of consequence to moan about. At least, I won’t add to the stack of blues I sent out today.

Life is completely uneventful here, there is no use relating each day. I just coast along, eating, sleeping, reading, and writing—even did a little drawing the other day, just for fun.

Today I did a particularly large amount of nothing—didn’t even read or think much. Played around a little bit with Herbert Agar’s “A Time for Greatness” and William L. White’s “Report on the Russians.”

I’ll close early now, and put in my doodles for the day. Just so you can see how busy I must be. More shortly--

I love you, know that?

All my love,

Wallace.

January 31, 1945 Wednesday

France

Dearest Honey, 

Physical therapy is very pleasant. Yesterday and today I have gone down to building five, which is the physiotherapy ward. There they put my arm under a heater for 15 minutes, then a nurse massaged all my arms muscles very thoroughly. The first time I pulled a pulley or two to help straighten out my arm, but I didn’t do that this morning. I can almost get my arm out straight now, and with a couple more days down there it will be as good as new. The scar from the wound isn’t going to be very big, at all.

Yesterday I saw another movie—they are doing very well this week. You see, they give shows in the different wards and I just hound dog around until I find out where it is going to be, then go down to that ward. Saw Jack Oakie in “Bowery to Broadway” yesterday afternoon.

The only trouble with this life is that my eyes do get tired, and this forces me to the awful expedient of taking frequent naps during the day. At least, that is the excuse I use for them, and I’ll stick to it. I have an unusual capacity for sleep. I never seem to get quite caught up. It is very fine to be able to sleep all you want.

I mentioned once, I think, that I was reading St. Mark as literature, didn’t I? I have finished that now, thought it over and started in on St. John. Mark is an account of the healings and miracles of Jesus and of the parables he told. I like John much better, for Mark stressed the miracles more than anything, while John puts the whole thing on a spiritual plane—“God is a spirit—to be worshiped in spirit and in truth.” As always, I find the philosophy good, but much of the concomitant things unacceptable. Much time spent in saying Christ had truth or that he represented God, without elaborating on what that truth was, or who God was. Where they do elaborate, it is very real. Where they do not, it is mysticism and legend. Generally, I accept Christian philosophy but am skeptical of so much that goes with it that I don’t consider myself a Christian. There is much for even a rational man to study there, tho, so I continue on with St. John.

I love you, Honey, all the time and hope that you are as comfortable as I am. Are the allotments coming in O.K., and do you have any problems? I’d love to hear about them and share them with you. Gee, you’re nice, Hon—I feel so lucky to have you. Let me know if I can do anything for you. 

All my love,

Wallace.

January 30, 1945 Tuesday

France

Hello Bunny,

How are you this morning? Still asleep, I imagine, since it is only 5 a.m. in the States. Wish I were right beside you, with my arms around you and your head on my shoulder. And that’s no passing desire—I need you, Honey, physically as well as all other ways. Dreams aren’t half good enough, I want you in person, real close and for a long time. You’re very wonderful that way, my trim little wife. Just right, and very nice for cuddling purposes. We’ll need to be together a long time when I get back, Hon.

Well, life flows on easily here. My only trouble is that I’m getting well so fast, I’ll probably be leaving this Elysian life before long. That’s a repulsive thought! But it won’t prevent me from enjoying it while I am here.

Sick report: this afternoon I start on physical therapy which will have loosening up muscles as its object. Increased use of left arm is reported in several cases. Left side of hand and little finger still numb but no-one is worried that time won’t remedy that. [note: little finger remained numb for Wallace’s life] Wedding ring has been replaced ever since the cast was removed—so I’m married again. Won’t remove it ever again now – I had planned never to take it off, but failed miserably before the first year was out!

Went to a movie last nite--”Bride by Mistake,” I think the title was. A fairly good comedy. As for reading, I am dividing my time now between “Mission to Moscow” and Claire Booth’s “Margin for Error.” Feel as tho I was getting fairly well informed on recent history now. It’s all very fascinating and stimulating. Everybody should be well informed on these subjects, and should do some thinking about them. It is the only way to be aware of the forces that are hitting society, and it is our reaction to these forces that determines the effect they have. The more we know of them, the more intelligent will be our reaction. Actually it is the study of the doings of the mass of humanity. History works thru groups and effects the whole—enlightenment for all will be the result of historic processes. In education and psychology much of the work is specialized on individual problems rather than social ones. But the two are inter-related. Enlightenment for mankind comes only as a result of the solving of individual problems. Only individuals can feel happy. That is where totalitarianism is wrong—it assumes that a group can attain well being while the individual is repressed and made subservient. Actually a group can be successful only as its policies reflect in the solving of problems for individuals. Therefore—democracy, where an individual is recognized as the unit for whose benefit the group exists.

Please excuse all this, Hon, it’s just that there really isn’t anything else to discuss, I do so little. Sometimes it even bores me, no foolin’. If I didn’t love you so much I would probably put on a front and write some very exciting letters—but they wouldn’t be me. You’re my Bunny,

Wallace.

January 29, 1945 Monday

France

Good morning, dear--

I somehow feel like Voltaire or Ben Franklin as I sit down and sharpen my two pencils each day with my vicious jack-knife. Like sharpening quills, I guess. Yes, it’s the same knife I bought that day in Abilene—better known in the company as my “pig-sticker.”

It has become necessary to steal paper to write on, but I don’t hesitate to do it. In fact I enjoy the thrill of walking into the office and filtching stationery from under the very eyes of the nurse! I got a whole pad of it this morning, heh, heh!

Today’s sick report: stitches (about 10 of them) were removed yesterday. Wound is closed but tender. Have on a tight bandage now and am using my arm all I can. I am enjoying life here far too much to have it mend so fast!

Yes, life here is pretty close to Utopia. I have told you about 1) our complete leisure to read, think, and talk 2) my wonderful daily hot bath with the tub over half full of water 3) the interesting chow. But have I mentioned the fruit juice? I have just all I can drink. At the officers’ mess it is on the table for all meals, and at least once a day I go out to the kitchen and ask for a can to take to my room. It comes in cans of a quart or more – grapefruit, orange, or a blend of the two. It’s really great.

Today is PX day, and it has added to my mellow mood to the tune of 4 candy bars, 8 packs of cigarettes, 2 packs of gum and sundries. I just never had it so good – except when we were together. You know, the thing I do best of all is loaf. Actually, I should have inherited a fortune – I make such a good man of leisure. These other poor souls run out of thoughts in a few days and fret for action. Poor bourgeois mentality! Was it Carl Sandberg who said “I loaf, and give my soul a chance?” 

[Perhaps Walt Whitman, Song of Myself:

I loaf and invite my soul,
I lean and loaf at my ease observing a spear  of summer grass]

If I did have that fortune, I’d do just about what I plan to anyway—but with less hurry and with more attention to taste and finesse and refinement.

Can’t help but feel I am the cause of the cigarette shortage in the States. I have about 19 packs on hand now as the result of gifts and rations only. Have had a good chance to judge the brands impartially. And right now Lucky Strikes seem to be in the lead – even over our own Chesterfields. You can’t tell any difference in taste, but L.S.’s seem to have an observable superiority in shape. Packed tighter, rounder, firmer, more fully packed, etc. My observations continue, tho, and I have come to no final conclusions.

It always takes a long time for mail to start coming to men in the hospital. So it’s no fault of the home front that at present I haven’t the slightest idea what the situation has been at home since Christmas. It does leave me out of touch with things, tho, so it is hard for me to talk about anything but what I do and think. Just because I can’t talk about Keene and you folks, do not conclude that I am not thinking of you all and wondering like everything what is going on. You know I think of you all the time, Hon, and am also interested in what our other friends do. Will be glad to get that stack of letters. I love my honey more that she knows.

All my love,

Wallace

January 29, 1945 Monday

[V-Mail]

France

Hello Hon--

Between naps and sips of fruit juice, I have finished Whitaker’s We Cannot Escape History. It was an excellent book to get an over-all picture of the past 12 years from. Clarified a lot of things in my mind and also emphasizes the inevitability of this war after 1934. It makes obvious the evils of the Nazi aims and methods and the fundamental values of the democratic system. And it presents these in a realistic manner that is far from the trite platitudes by which they usually try to tell us why we fight. I think I understand the war and its necessity better from having read the book. It concludes by stressing the vital mission of the soldiers who fight the war. It is a vital one, but one we are sure to accomplish in time. Even more vital are the responsibilities of the leading nations after the war, and they are not so sure of being accepted and accomplished. But still, there is the possibility.

All my love always,

Wallace.