Letter #13

Tuesday Evening.

October 27, 1942.

My dearest,

I was so glad to get your cable this morning. I’m glad you are well, and glad that you had some leave. I only wish I had been there to enjoy it with you. Where did you go, and what did you do?

I went over to send you a cable after work tonight, and the young man who is usually there waited on me. He knows me now, and when I went in he said to me, “Well, he has been moved again, hasn’t he?” (Evidently he is interested in my cables from you, and reads them.) I said, “Yes, but he didn’t send me a new cable address, so I had better use the old one. Maybe he hasn’t moved yet.” The fellow said, “He might be moved by the time he gets this, and since you have that new A.P.O. address, we are supposed to send cables there.” So since I didn’t know, I told him all right. So he looked up the code, but wouldn’t tell me what it was, so you better let me know. He is a nice young fellow, in his early twenties, and is very obligating and polite. Some new rates have gone into effect, so that cables are cheaper now.

Yesterday, we had the first snow storm of the season. And it didn’t melt as soon as it hit the ground, either. Tonight, even after all of today’s sun, there is still some snow on the hills. And our front steps still have ice on them. Yesterday afternoon, I was interviewing a young lady, and had my back to the window. Suddenly, she stopped in the middle of a sentence, and said in a started tone, “Why, its---its---its snowing!” I was surprised too, and wondered for an instant if she was trying to be funny, but I looked, and sure enough, it was coming down in big, soft, white flakes. This is the first now I have seen for a long time, except for a little last winter after we returned from Louisiana. Darling, will you ever forget that ride that last night of our trip home? Remember that icy road from Dushore to Binghamton?

Tonight, I went to Dr. Woodburn’s, and got my first cold inoculation. He inquired about you (the doctor inquired, not he cold inoculation.) As it was my first visit, he asked my several questions, and recorded the information on a little card. He also took a blood test---not a complete one, but just one to see whether or not I was enemic [anemic]. I am, but of course that is nothing new, as I am quite apt to be slightly enemic anyway. But I am a little more so now than I was formerly, because he said I was 50, but that is not enough to be alarming. However, he told me to stop my thyroid, and get some liver extract capsules, for which he gave me a prescription. He seemed to be quite interested in that certain condition of mine, and said that maybe if I got over being enemic, it might by corrected. I rather doubt it myself, but I didn’t argue. However, I’ll give him a chance, and see what he can do about it.

The Stars and Stripes, the two copies sent Oct. 10 by free mail, got there today. I haven’t read them yet, but intend to tonight later. I have not received any mail since a week ago today, when I received letters #4 and 5 for October. I’m still lacking #2 and 3 for October, and I hope to get some more recent mail this week.

Will close now, and finish this tomorrow night, as I may get some letters by then, or at least have some sort of interesting news. I am going to listen to the radio for a while now, and then go to bed.

I love you so very, very much, my precious. I hope we will soon be happily together in our own home again, and I pray for that time to hasten.

10-28-42

Wednesday Evening.

Aunt Sadie had to come up to Red Cross this morning about 10 o’clock, to do some work, and when she arrived, she came into my office with three of your letters that came in this morning’s mail. They were the missing 2 and 3 for October, and also #6, written Oct. 12^th and mailed the 13^th. I will keep that letter to myself, as you asked me to, and as I do with all my letters anyway, except for some interesting passages sometimes. But I won’t say anything about it. I got terribly depressed when I read it, but have snapped out of it somewhat now. I’m keeping my chin up, and if you can take it, surely I can, since my part is nothing compared with yours.

Now I have all the handkerchiefs you have sent in letters, and when I came home tonight I found the box containing the 2 ½ dozen. They are lovely, darling. They are perfectly gorgeous. I love my birthday present, and I know that on Christmas, when all the folks open their gifts, they will all be most delighted. The handkerchiefs are so beautiful in themselves, and the initials are just the finishing touch (not that any finishing touch is needed). The only thing is, they are too nice to use. Thank you from the bottom of my heart, dearest. I am going to pick out the other six for myself tonight. I will get one of each of the four that you did not have initialed, and also one of #1 and #2. Everything you have sent has been perfectly wonderful; the exquisite tablecloth and napkins, the tea cosy, and now the beautiful handkerchiefs. The duty today on the box of handkies was $5.23.

The description of the harvest service was so interesting, and I enjoyed reading about it. It must have been very nice. How I would have like to have been there (for more reasons than one).

The little poem about letters is so very true, darling. I like it.

I will get a knife like you asked for, and will send it to you, also the Major’s leaves. This noon, I went all over town looking for Major’s leaves. The Army and Navy stores had had them in the past, but where all out of them. They had some ordered, but did not know then they would get here. So I went to the department stores, and jewelry stores. It seems that people were buying them who had no right to them, so they are now more difficult to get. I got all sorts of advice. In one store, they told me to write to Washington for leaves, another store advised me to write to some store in New York, while still another suggested that I write to some jewelry firm in Philadelphia. So I went back to the office, and this afternoon I called Captain Cole, commanding officer of the colored M.P. Company stationed here. All the officers are white, however. I have talked with Captain Cole quite often in reference to loaning money to some of his men, and he is very pleasant. He is overage, I guess, without a doubt. Anyway, I asked him if he could tell me the best way to get some leaves. I told him that my husband was in the army, and everyone told me something different, and I explained the situation to him. He seemed sort of flabbergasted when I told him my husband was a Major. However, he said that he could get some leaves for me. He is sending a truckload of stuff to Fort Ontario tomorrow, and is sending a lieutenant along too, and he said the lieutenant would be glad to get some for me up there. And if, for any reason, the truck does not go tomorrow, Captain Cole himself is going up Friday, and will get them for me. I told him I thanked him so much, and was sorry to cause him so much trouble. He fell all over himself on the phone telling me that it was not trouble at all, and he was glad to be able to do it, etc., etc. So---your 2 sets of leaves and your knife will be along some day. I don’t know when. With the Xmas rush, it may be not until after the holidays.

I just reread the above paragraph. I don’t mean that I will wait until after Xmas to mail them. I will send them as soon as I get them, but I mean it may be after Christmas by the time you receive them.

The pictures were so interesting, and I am so very glad to have them. I was on my way to the office this noon, when your dad picked me up in his car. I showed him the pictures, and sometime soon I am going over to your folk’s house and show them to your mother, also. I gave your dad the picture of you that wasn’t developed so well. (I kept the best one for myself.) He was very pleased to have it. He also took temporarily the picture of you and the McDowells. He is going to return it to me. I shall be anxious to get the film you sent, and I will surely send you the copies of the photos. But you know, it takes some time to get the colored pictures printed. In fact, it now takes longer than ever---about 3 weeks at least.

I won’t be expecting letters regularly from you, but I know you will write whenever you can, and I will continue to write as I have been doing, and hope you get my letters. I am sure you will receive most of them. It is always a thrill and a treat when I hear from you, my dear. I just walk on air.

I just called up Eleanor Davis and Catherine Foley, and gave them your latest address, as they had asked me a couple of days ago for you address. I understand that Betty Constine mailed a package to you at A.P.O. 871. All the neighbors are well, except Dan, who has not been very well this fall. This morning, he had a little tumor removed from his back or shoulder or something, but he didn’t go to the hospital. Catherine said it was done in the doctor’s office, and Dan went home afterwards. He is in bed, of course, but feels fairly well tonight. Did you know that Eleanor Davis is working afternoons in the knitting department of McLean’s teaching people to knit. I don’t know what has become of the girl that used to be there. Eleanor says she loves it, and now that Earl never is home for supper, and she and the boys just have a light meal at night. She likes to have her time well occupied. The boys come home at noon, and Earl is there then, so she says they have their hearty meal at that time.

I always have you in my heart and mind, darling, and especially so at 3 P.M. each day. We must both look forward with faith, and with the belief that some day soon we will have peace again, and you will be back safely, and we will be together for many happy years. And I am sure that the time is not too far in the future. Take care of yourself, dearest, and be careful, for both your sake and mine too. I love you, my sweetheart, with all my heart. God bless you, my darling.

With all my love and kisses,

Your devoted and loving wife,

Jeanette.