Nov. 21, 1947

Dear Dyke,

I received your letter this morning and I am now answering. I have something to explain. I’m glad that you want me to call you “Dyke” because I want to. I called you Jack in my last letter because I made a mistake. From now on you’re “Dyke” because I like it.

I wish you were here. Not that I want you to twist my arm, but you wouldn’t have to. Besides I wouldn’t let you. Before you convince Madeleine you’ve got shoulders why not convince me first?

Please tell me exactly how long you’ve been in the service. Year, month and day. Did you enlist for four years? Or longer? Just curiosity.

For what reasons in Springfield would you like to come home with Rockie?

Well if you haven’t flared up in years you ought to soon. Only don’t make it me that you’re angry with. And I hope I’m never angry with you because I’m patient and it takes me a long time to flare up but when I do!!!! I pity the person I’m mad at. I can be as cold as ice too! This should be fun. A couple of icebergs meeting. I’ll bet we won’t be too cool after we meet. Don’t you? I have no fear about being at a loss of words.

Golly Dyke it certainly will be wonderful to look up to a fellow. You are just the right height for a tall girl. Me! I wonder if you would be able to put me on a stove? HA! HA!

I’ll be looking forward to hearing your story about your nick name. You’ve got a lot to explain haven’t you? You’re not crazy? Oh! We just won’t get along unless you’re a little bit nuts. If you’re not, you soon will be when you come here. This is “Daigneault’s nut house.” Anyone walking in sane walks out insane. It’s really not that bad though.

You don’t have to sound so anxious to spank me you know. Rockie and you had better not have the same idea. I’m depending on you to protect me from him. I can just imagine you’ll be a lot of protection. You’ll probably just laugh? I’m not going to give you a chance to spank me. I’m going to keep writing. So don’t be so pleased with yourself. Rockie won’t come near me with a ten foot pole or I’ll start throwing anything handy. Poor Rockie!

About that picture. I’ll send one as a Christmas present. O.K.? My father won an eighteen pound turkey for Thanksgiving. Otherwise we would have to eat chicken.

The suspense may be killing you but Dyke please don’t die. Then who would I write too? Oh! I forgot. I’ve been sick in bed for four days. “The Grippe.” I’m all better. Sleep tight and think of me. (Don’t have nightmares)

Always,

Cecile

P.S. Write soon.