Sunday, April 1, 1945

Wrote more letters for new patients - delivered special requests. Talked to Bria and wanted to tell him he was going home, but was not allowed to. He wants to tell his wife "all about me".

Talked to Underwood, another P.N. patient - have to be careful with these young men, they get attachments. He'd been reading Maughm's "The Razor's Edge" - intelligent reaction. I told him to keep on reading everything, that he'd never have time enough in his life to get it all read. He's changed here - he's better.

Took a bus to Cheltenham and entrained for Birmingham. Got a hotel room by chance and was not able to call Jack at the Depot 14 miles distant. Had coffee and the eternal cheese sandwiches in the lounge - went to bed after finishing a letter to Jack which I'll give him. Mail is so slow and he's not had a letter from me yet!

Saturday, March 31, 1945

Wrote letters this AM for three patients. They are invariably "improving every day...don't worry...nothing serious". This, when they are paralyzed from the waist down - or deafened - or almost blind, or shattered of arm or leg. You find this the most gallant aspect of the war in a hospital. Celebrated our 10,000th patient with a special radio program. I was not on it - Soph spoke for the ARC. I wrote a speech for her, which she liked, but army-like, they couldn't use it. Patient's name was Robert Henderson.

Jack called about 8 from the Reinforcement Depot near Birmingham. Had been on guard and very tired - missed me too much. Told me to come on up and find him Monday. Made candy, colored fondant - fancy for our Easter open house. Did not go to the Club dance.

Friday, March 30, 1945

A tiring day, but one wherein you feel you've accomplished something. Took some flowers to Bria for Good Friday. Delivered odd items - took yarn for teddy bears - wrote a radio program on Home Town News - gave out five cakes, one huge one, and served it. The volunteers brought lovely hyacinths, and daffodils, and eggs for us. Package came from Mabel with a watermelon pink sweater, lipstick, perfume, and carnation soap. All reminds me of the Maywood Apartments. How much more contented I am over here, but every day I have the burden of anxiety over J. in London. One of the nurses said tonight that 100 people were buried in a tube station in London recently. Jack and I heard several explosions while we were there, and we heard one here tonight while at mess which could only be a bomb. I'd give anything to have him safe back here, though I suppose he would die of frustration after London. Jack did not call from the Center - but he will tomorrow probably. Hope he stays in England, he's such a comfort.

Thursday, March 29, 1945

Spent the day writing letters on wards. - saw Capt. Eschelbacher do a skin grafting job, minor operation he invited me to watch. The boy was smiling and non-chalant. Capt. E is a remarkably fine, sweet person - the only doctor I really like personally. I can always depend on him to be around to talk to at my infrequent Club visits. His patients rely utterly on him.

Jack called from the 10th Reinforcement Pool at 8.40 - said he was going to ask for a pass to come back, the idiot. Travel is restricted until next week so we may not get together, though I'll try to go to Birmingham Sunday night if he's able to meet me. I told him I missed him so I wanted to resign and follow his camp - it's all right with him! He said he was in the Birmingham RR station, and when he heard my voice he started to breathe with considerable difficulty...how wonderful to affect a cool, self-sufficient man like that! Wonder if it will last. I wrote him a letter that will please him. I laughed through half the conversation as usual. What a guy!

Wednesday, March 28, 1945

Wrote letters for Godalchek (paralyzed arm and cast on the other)and for Thibido who's blind - shrapnel entered right eye destroying it leaving nerve gone - is easy and cheerful. Very young, easy to talk to - tried to make him promise not to touch his face and bandage. He must have handcraft.

Took seven birthday cakes, fun as usual. Some boys in my psycho-neurotic ward got hold of liquor last night and came back and tore the ward apart. Got sent to the closed ward. They frightened Bria and Evans, poor things. I played Ave Maria for Bria today on the program - he told me later he heard it. Slept this PM - at least he was quiet. Told me later so haltingly, "You are so kind...thank you...for...everything". Underwood is definitely coming out of his dark blue moods.

Met Jack for dinner - we had a wonderful time as always. He is the kindest, finest person. Wants so much to marry me. Maybe I shall.

(pictured: Jack C. Strong)

Tuesday, March 27, 1945

Back at 9,30 - saw Bria after his cousin came in the office, so good to have him know me, and thank me in whispers for what we had done. He's better, "I must get better" he said. Talked to new patients - tiring, but good and satisfactory. Went to Capt. Hagen's birthday party at the Club. Capt. E's birthday so we had a drink and he reported on home news. Good man.

Lots of good mail - Maria, John, John Keates, Vito, home - Violet Morgan, Mabel, good letter from Durham last week.

Bria recognized my voice on the radio - progress!

(How is my beloved? Will he come back this weekend to open his Christmas boxes? He's now casting director for Special Services. Jack is coming tomorrow - reports for duty Thursday.)