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  • Flea Market Love Letters

August 13, 1942.





My darling,

Aren’t we the perfect couple?

It seems even our thoughts run the same. We just go well together. You know why I’m saying this? Well, cause in your last letter I got this A.M. you mentioned about seeing Mr. Miniver which I had already seen and wrote you asking you to see it. Isn’t that funny. And we both enjoyed and liked it. Yes hon, it sure was a beautiful picture throughout.

Also about Annamay and Ralph, it is foolish how they carry on the way you say. Ye gucks, they both could see how very very fortunate they are that they can see each other at all. Your the real little trooper keeping so happy and all the way you do, and yet we both feel plenty sat at heart. If any one should go around feeling sorry for each other we should, but there’s a war going on for our own freedom and we’re both sensible enough to realize that in order to keep this freedom these hardships have to be endured. Betty you are so sweet and dear, and so brave and sensible. I love you, you previous darling. You are everything to me. I wonder if Ralph and Annamay ever think of how our hearts are straining for each other? If I stop to realize I most likely won’t see your beautiful face before me until the end of this war I almost go crazy. But my only consolation is yet in the fact I know you’ll still be there when I go get back.

I’ve been operator at control ground communication trailer the last few days. Really interesting. I’m on radio all day with 4 hours sleep and then on all night. My job is keeping communication between plane and operations office going. You should see how busy I am receiving calls, typing them up and transmitting to them, filing reports to give operations officer. Whoever is on duty in ground shack has full charge during time there at first every time a call would come over my heart would do loops cause I was afraid I wouldn’t get all clicks and switches and frequency set right to receive and transmit and all. I really have learned plenty in practical operations here. We fly our operations in Douglas Cargo Transport when on flight orders or in Grumans (2 place) plane on postcard in our live bomber. A plane just like that is flying overhead as I write this with one wheel stuck in retracted position. The other is down but won’t come up so he’s using up his gas for a crash landing. A fire truck, ambulance and “hot mamas” (asbestos suites sailors) are out on the line. I think he might fly it out  into the bay instead of into the paved field. He’s talking over what to do over radio now. He’ll be quite  while using up the gas.

Time is almost that well known hour of “taps” so I’ll be rolling into the old sack. Believe me I’m dead tired. We are all in same condition.

We are drawing big fur lined leather flying jackets soon with our rate and name and squadron in gold print on leather piece over our left breast pocket, just like ones in our flying picture. I won’t start flying until next shift again which will be when we go off. It won’t be very very long now.

Goodnight sweetheart, see you in the morning. Keep well and happy and always wear that cute little smile of yours till I see you again. I love you dear, always and forever.

Your own,

Jack

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