Wednesday, April 4, 1945

Wrote one ward letter - visited four wards at night - very sick boys, some of them with their heads shaved or bound up.  We're concentrating on neurological cases now.  Several blind boys, asn always they are cheery to talk to.
Jack called at 2:30 - is working in the personnel department there (ahem!) and thinks it is a strategic spot.  I'm hoping he'll stay in the U.K.  If we do, there're all sorts of rumors that this hospital will move to the continent.  Jack will call tomorrow about our Monday visit - thinks he can get a 24 hour pass.  I decided on Cheltenham for a good place to visit together.  We have a lot of things to talk over.  An enlisted man must file for a request to marry two months before the date.  It's a lot of fun to think about - Jack is in dead earnest.  Jimmie is said to be returning the 14th - I do not count on it, why should I/

Tuesday, April 3, 1945

Visited about 16 wards today. Delivered papers, toothpaste, ditty bags - talked, talked. Jack called me but I was unavailable, so he'll call tomorrow. I am as sure of Jack as I am of the sunrise. He loves the idea of "Mrs. Strong." It scares and beckons me. But I may.

I asked Lt. Larson when Jimmie was coming back if at all. He said the show opens the 16th, and he'll be back then. Thank God the bombs have just about gone since Holland is evacuated of Germans. He's in the greatest dither of his life - rehearsals! He's probably running the whole show. Curious how I adore that boy - he's the sun and the moon - and he's forgotten about me, almost. That's because he's so tremendous a person, things absorb and take possession, whatever it is at the time. Nice to know that, but hard on people who love him so much.

My Beloved Ginger

2 April 45

Nine o'clock

My Beloved Ginger -

I am at the same table at which we had our tea, and it is the heady smell of your perfume that is filling my head with fantasy and my heart with the peaceful hurt of wanting you. Always, I know it will be there when you are from me.

After leaving you I immediately inquired the time of the next train and found that it would not leave until 19.23 hours so I found my way into a below-stairs restaurant and inveigled them (there being no other potential customers about) into giving me a glass of ale, no spirits being available. It was a large place with lots of the old woodwork and supported by eight-sided and square columns having quite beautiful tiled panels half-way from the floor, and mirrored panels from that point to the ceiling. The square columns had little brass-railed shelves. The ceiling was of long arc-ish sections, quite grimy. A semi-Continental waiter, of Welsh or Scottish origin presided. It did not at all fit my mood, however, so I moved on until I arrived at a hotel that seemed to catch the eye of others of the passing dog-faced throng, but my peripheral noted that most of them were emerging almost immediately upon entry and for the most part, bewilderment was quite evident dans le visage. So I spake unto myself, saying, This must be the place I am looking for!!! And, ma petite cochon, it was!! Truly a place of ours, it was, with its lofty ceils and just-sufficient light, soft talk and softer appointments, a place of romance tempered ever so Britishly with the ageless dignity of middle-aged stewards who lead you to believe that they have been in your personal service for years past. We shall enjoy that another time, my sweet.

So, bowing over my table, the grey hair and tails enquired, "Have you been served, Sir?" knowing full well that I had not.

No - said I - but I should like a double scotch.

Terribly sorry, Sir - said Tails - but we are quite sold out of spirits.

What a shame - I mourned - for I desired to drink to a lady and to our meeting in the future.

Is that so, Sir - Tails sympathized, and then inspired - Will you be so good, Sir, to remain here for a moment?

He glided from sight to reappear almost at once, bearing upon his silver tray the small glass of amber stuff, and a tumbler of water.

Double, was it, Sir - he almost beamed - Two and nine - he said.

I was very pleased and chuckling inside as I placed five shillings on the tray. He reached for change and I said - That's all right.

Thank you, Sir - said Tails.

3 April 1500

It is now tomorrow and your perfume lingers on me. It's a trap, a snare. I'm hooked.

Having just read what I wrote last eve I find that I have become a master of ambiguosity, but that I don't worry about - you will know what I am saying. Perhaps, too, I will learn to write legibly again. That does bother me.

You know I miss you, Ginger, so I will not reiterate.

I am going to try to call you now, so be there 'cause I am working from four-thirty till midnight.

See you later, darling.

Jack

Monday, April 2, 1945

Was called in time for breakfast - a vague spam-y meal with cruel coffee. Got a train to Lichfield, and with the help of the M.P. and the Field Director of Camp, let Jack know he was to meet me at the Red Cross at the Depot where I got a ride on an army truck. A beautiful day, and the fields and orchards lovely. The Red Cross was helpful and cheery, and Jack got a pass. I waited an hour for him - he had difficulties with his sergeant, but as usual surmounted them. He looked so sweet to me somehow, he was so glad to be with me again. We held hands in the Red Cross library over sandwiches and he had no appetite. This army is hell on men like him. Said he's even considered going psycho so we could be civilian again. I flattened that, although I'm terribly trapped in the army, too. We could have such fun. We had a compartment to ourselves to Birmingham, very sweet. Had fish and chips, and parted rather seriously.

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.)