8 August 1944

Tuesday

Little Chum,

           

            Ho hum and lack a day. Another one of those maneuvers which always have to start in the middle of the night and go on from there. Last night was no different and it has been a long day, having risen xx in the middle of the night and started the aviating. We won as usual I hope, but then both sides win in the “jaw bone” type of war. There were no casualties. I go up early in the morning to the “Monday Morning Quarterback League” and “Order of the Benevolent Second Guessers” for the usual, “why did you do what, when and why wasn’t you.” But we have little to worry about actually so it will be a serious of picayune whys which really make little difference, besides I am used to thinking them up swiftly by now. Some war, some war—at least a guy doesn’t have to duck until the meeting after and can count a lot stronger on getting back to his beloved.

 

            I will be a social or pink tea hound this week also among my other duties. Tomorrow noon there’s a luncheon for the Costa Ricans with the usual shaking hands going in and the shaking hands going out with neither side understanding the other in between. Chicken a la king too I’ll bet you my bottom dollar. Then Saturday I am off to the Brazilian Legation for some doings or other again at noon. That will be a longer session, more intense hand clasping, oftener and it will take a lot longer. Maybe the food will be a surprise. After that strenuous session I think a game of golf will be in order to get the fresh air once more if you get what I mean. I guess I will never really get a diplomatic post unless they want someone to stir up an excuse for a war.

 

            Darling I had your letter written on the third. Thank you my dear and darling wife. If you only knew how your words made me feel you would know how precious they were to me. I have read the letter many times already and will some more I can assure you. They give me a feeling of comfort and contentment and of course happiness. Just plain thanks dear, clear, crystal blue thanks dearest.

 

            I have an oil painting in my room now. One of the soldiers is really an artist and I have one of his canvases about three feet high and two wide. I do not know whether you would approve or not. It is of a young lady and she does have a sort of skirt on but that is all. She reminds me of you dear one for she is beautiful and she is developed as Pop likes development above the skirt. I could almost believe that you might have posed for the thing (Lord forbid). I promise not to look too often and then only with you in mind dearest. That last is no effort I can assure you. I really didn’t want the thing but of course the “Old Man” had to have a gift. I’ll try to bring it home but I know you will say “I am not that big.” I do not think the size is anything but ideal and I do mean ideal whatever my Puddin’ head believes. You just suit me to a Tee my Toots and there must be no changes, absolutely.

 

            I had better get off that subject or I won’t sleep and I am in need of sleep. I still am going to a show in a few minutes to see a Who Done It. It will be awful but the routine must be carried out.

 

            Darling lady mine thanks again for that beautiful letter and I send you my love and devotion. I sure wish that I was home to deliver it in person. I am afraid though after your having taken my remark about age so seriously and the ensuing threats. That will teach me to keep my big mouth shut. Barkus is willing and without trembling however. Oh me I will have to get some Wheaties tomorrow.

           

            Love dear one and Adios for now.

 

                                                                                    Edwin