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339 Friday 5 October 7 pm Darling- To answer your most important letter first: All right, darling, I won't say April! I had to laugh a little as I realized the different psychologies of our respective approaches to the time question. I said April just to be sure, thinking in terms of the hardest possible deal, while you prefer to think in terms of the easiest and quickest. Can't say that I blame you. Will you settle on February? You may be right about my being able to get out, despite language, whenever I get home, but I've had no way of knowing that for sure. Sure, it's worthwhile to take chances a lot of the time Sweetie, but just think how you’d feel if, coming home prematurely, I did get sent to Japan! And as I said, there's another matter involved: if I should decide to get into some phase of education, an M.G. based on a this whose material can be gathered during the two months following 1 November (when we put [pg 2] the new English program, which would logically be the central theme of such a thesis, into effect) would be the most direct and economical approach to it. Understand me, darling - I would not remain here voluntarily just for that, but when there is a question of doubt it is worthwhile from the standpoint of our economic future to give it a thought. Before carrying that theme further, let me ask you not to consider too seriously any possibility I speak of, because my plans might be entirely changed thru some chance contact or as a result of my inquiries, which I rather expect to be exhaustive, at the U.S. Employment Service office in San Francisco. In that connection, do you realize that I'll have about 45 days vacation on the Navy when I get out, at full pay? That means that for that period, unless I go to work, I continue to draw my salary because I have not taken all the leave I am entitled to (30 days a year), and will not be released from the Navy (unless I wish to) until that time is made up. For the first full week after I reach Carmel, there is not to [pg 3] be a word about jobs or opportunities between us (unless, of course, something special which must be dealt with at once comes up.) That week is all ours, darling, to live in a world apart without fear for the future or anything but light-hearted fun. I make that a week, rather than two or three, because I know how anxious you are to see us make a start toward getting settled. If you’d like to make it longer, let's do only just set a time so that we and especially you will know that when the time comes we shall begin immediately and freely to discuss whatever idea you and I respectively are entertaining. Is that a bargain, Sweetie? Your write and name the time. I hardly dare anticipate those first two or three days with you in San Francisco, or however long it is you feel we can leave Wendy. And I'm not going to plan them on paper. You just wait and see. [pg 4] When our week or so of pure, unadulterated playtime is up, we shall make a trip up to San Francisco, with Wendy, and spent 3 or 4 days exploring - I job possibilities, you and Wendy whatever you please. Then we shall return to Carmel and live what will amount to a normal working life for another 2 weeks or so, or as long as seems expedient. The additional $300 mustering-out pay, altho of course I want to stretch it out as much as possible (it will come in 3 installments each a month apart), will serve as a buffer enabling us to use the balance of my leave time as a semi-vacation. If contacts make it necessary, we may cut short our time in Carmel (but not to less than 2 weeks from the time I first arrive there) in order to spend some of it en route (Memphis, possible Boulder) or New York. How does it sound to you so far, darling? Now for a general explanation of why I [pg 5] am considering schoolwork - Sweetie, I just feel as tho I almost have to do something that is an intellectual challenge to me. If a business or government job turns up at a salary and with living requirements that would be particularly happy for us as a growing family, I’d consider it strongly even though the work as such didn't appeal to me. But if the economic advantage in a given case is small, it wouldn't be worth the difference: there wouldn't be enough in it to enable us to live a sufficiently rich and satisfying life to compensate for essentially dull work. I think you understand that, darling, and that when it comes down to cases you'll agree with me. It's not a matter of my satisfaction merely, but of the happiness of all of us. I'm still exploring the possibility of a job or historical work within the Navy, for a few months in Washington (I’d make lieutenant about the first of March, and the difference in pay would help considerably); of getting into the [pg 6] State Department as a civilian; of other government jobs. Incidentally, Barry has reminded me that an M.G. (particularly on such a subject as this) carries a good deal of weight in getting civil service jobs and with regard to salary ranges in them. I'm also thinking again just a little about psychiatric social work.* Don't write and say ‘please, don't’, darling - I know that you’d be interested in something if I was absorbed in it. Right now, tho, I'm thinking as much in terms of salary possibilities (in all these connections) as I am in those of the work's inherent interest. My ultimate decision, of course, can't ignore either factor. That's all I want to say on those subjects right now, darling. I'm thinking about them and preparing myself for any accidental occasion which might present the means of deciding. *I'm so damned normal not that I haven't a trace of that earlier feeling of wanting to get away from any connection with that sort of thing, and I think I could make a damned good psychiatric social worker and enjoy a respectable professional standing. You’d be interested in the work, too - esp. re children [pg 7] 403 - [?], sweetie darling, I didn't answer your call for help about the loneliness of remaining in Carmel - I remember feeling moved by it and understanding, then thinking hopefully that where my letter about getting out in 3 or 4 months arrived it would ease your feeling considerably - but I did mean to write about it. It's hard to answer. I do want you in Carmel, darling - I think it's very important that we have a couple of weeks together there both completely at play and alter at work (writing contact letters, etc. - there should be plenty of it), to help make up for all its associations with loneliness and to add luster to the seal with which we stamped it as outcome, when we lived a brief but lovely week together. And I'll want at least a week of loafing, with some lying in the sun. Secondly, its near San Francisco where I think it will be well worthwhile to investigate opportunities before we go East to visit or to stay. [pg 8] As to the absence of everybody whom you've counted on to help in any emergency, that's important, of course, and I don't know how to keep you there - but there will be Gladys Johnston and surely Sammy the flower man would come to your rescue, or anyone of a number of other permanent residents who have come to know and like you by now. Tell you what, Sweetie - when your last standby does leave, why not approach Gladys quietly some time, explain the situation simply, say that of course you don't expect anything to happen but that you need to feel that you could count on someone if it did - I'm sure she's a gal who would respond warmly to such a situation. And there are others. Of course it will be inconvenient for you without friends with transportation, but you can make out - and I'll try to make it up to you. (Incidentally, your information about car rentals was good to hear) [Just to satisfy my curiosity, keep your eyes and ears open and let me know when any jeeps [pg 9] go on the open market, or are sold to a category of purchasers which would include me - let me know how much, etc. A jeep would be swell for Boulder, especially if fitted with a weather proof body]. I'll bet you that all your transient friends will not be gone by the end of October. Let me know who leaves when and who's left - I've sort of lost track of who's there now besides Helen and Bud (if Bev still is). And give my best regards to her and Bud - I've ordered a doll for Isabel. #404 - speaking of George's sailing orders, you may be sure that I'll be back before those men will! And even if it turns out otherwise in one or two cases, I don't think I’d have swapped with them. Please give Wendy a special hug for being so good to you, Sweetie. She must be a precious smidgen. #405 - fried chicken - yummy And then your cable - ‘Time and a half overtime will work two shifts’. I loved that in every possible way it can be read. #406 and 7 - Mail delay: typhoon? No, but a word on the latter when I've answered your letters and begun writing [pg 10] on my own. - Don't know what could have caused the delay, Sweetie, but I sure hope it doesn't happen again. There've been no such long breaks here and just a couple of days now and then. I can hardly wait to hear Wendy call me ‘Daddy’. Can you imagine your telling her about going to get one when you leave for San Francisco - tho I guess you can't appear too excited or she'll expect you to return with me in twenty minutes. Better get her accustomed to staying with Mrs. What's-her-name once or twice before hand, with your away for several hours. If George Clark drops in again give him my regards and tell him that we did get a P.A. system for the school, thru O.W.I. (now U.S. Information Service); so it wasn't necessary to follow up the leads on Guam that he gave us, but we’re grateful nonetheless. Of course pajamas and socks is all right and I’d rather have Muz send them to you than to here. You may put such parents of mine on or around our tree - do you think Wendy [pg 11] could open them for me? Darling, it's only a short time till Christmas, and after that the time will just fly because you'll know I'm coming home soon! The enclosed is a birthday check from M and F. I was going to keep it without telling you for extra spending money for us in San Francisco, but I have to send it to you anyway (unless I return it to M and F and ask for a money order) and have just had a better idea. Half of it please spend for a bottle of Benedictine - I want you to have it this Christmas (turn about's fair play) and to drink a toast to me in it. It's well worth the price, sweetie. The other half, it being my birthday money and to spent for my pleasure, I direct you to spend on one nightie - the sexiest you can find. So get to work and consult your shopping catalogs. Honey who don't you leave Wendy overnight with Mrs. So-and-So sometime soon and make an overnight shopping trip to San Francisco? [pg 12] You might visit Mrs. May at the same time - perhaps John's wife could go shopping with you. I wish you would, and would love to hear about it. Or take Wendy and go for two days if Mrs. May should invite [?] to stay there, as she probably would. Try telephoning her tonight. #408,9 - Such fun hearing about Wendy at the beach. Gosh, how I'm itching to spend some time on that beach with you - will it be possible as early as February? I almost forget that there is such a thing as change of climate. - haven't sunbathed in a long time and altho I'll remain more or less brown, I may be no match for you. I realize that I have an unfair advantage to start with - but keep it up, anyway - I’d love to see how you look tanned. Yes, Lowe continues to be a very satisfactory guy, both as a roommate and to work with. He's good at making things and is getting me interested, [pg 13] I found you a Christmas present yesterday, one that I know you'll like. Time enough for you to know more about it when you open the package. It's a local product made by military personnel and something I've tried to get ever since I arrived here - even tried my hand at making one myself once but didn't have the necessary machine facilities. #410-413 - MG men are no longer exempt from the point score. No such mention has been made as yet of Language men; the announcement of about M.G. was received here yesterday. All right, Sweetie, I won't say April any more! (I was thinking of your birthday when I did so Yes, it will be wonderful to lead normal lives. Things you say sometimes make me feel full of the wonder of being your husband Notes made the other night while I was reading over a month of previous letters - [pg 14] “Helen - Carmel in October” - well isn't that your answer? I hope she does come - nobody could be better for you right now. “Home for good after 18 mos?” Definitely! “Phone from Pearl at Christmas?” No sweetie, I’d love to dearly, but the chances are I won't even stop at Pearl when I leave. “No wait for transportation when I have my orders” I don't think that'll be much of a problem -“But all good things are worth waiting for’.” Mmmm. And it won't be so awfully long now, even to February! “Muz - Doug's getting on in years” - Sweetie you must write and tell her that that's nonsense. He'll find himself a wife, and happily, but not if he's over-anxious- “Living in Washington…” Yes, I’d love to too, in many ways - tho none as attractive as the enthusiasm of your response. Darling, wherever we are we'll be happy. “grey blouse” - oh yes, I sold the one you send me for $5 to a CB chief who had helped us by giving us a mike, a telephone and other assistance. That was cheap but I meant it to be. I won't need the other one out here; [pg 15] have my khaki blouse to wear home. “Christmas cards. Who sends them?” Would you, Sweetie? I'm awfully busy as far as things like that, which take time, are concerned, but I would like us to send them at least to people like the Mays, the Williams, the Deans and other friends both older and more recent. Choose a simple one and have our name imprinted, send not more than 50. I’d like to see the list. “Snakes” - I suppose you’re beyond teaching, but I'll larn Wendy not to be afraid of them. “Chest pain - checkups when I get home” - OK, darling, as long as you feel it's nothing serious. But please, Sweetie, for my sake; never take any chances when you’re in doubt. Probably this is something that I can relax you out of in no time at all. “If I've changed” - Yes, darling, I agree with you wholeheartedly: we mustn't mull over who's changed how and why, or whether - but we won't anyhow; we've got so damned much living to do. Yes, [pg 16] let's just pick up where we left off and let the middle part grow gradually together. Funny thing is that that same middle part, which to you now must seem so empty and unjustifiable in terms of reconciling your feeling, will, when it has grown into a part of both our lives, immeasurably enrich us - perhaps even more (in terms of [?] years from now) than the same period of living together could have done. Don't try to think how or why; that perspective will come of itself in time. And now back to the moment, which grows short - We woke up this morning to find a 65 mile an hour wet gale blowing outside. Fortunately for Barry and me it was coming from the South, and our compartment is on the north end of the quonset. The other [pg 17] end was just soaked - books, tables, chairs, bed, clothes, every sort of personal belongings. We were just a little damp; the gale had been blowing, with gradually increasing violence, since 1 a.m. Outside a telephone pole was down, large tree branches were broken off; on the way to breakfast (getting thoroly soaked despite poncho) there were other evidences of damage, and directly afterwards Barry and I fought our way up to school, where we spent an energetic two hours preventing further damage by cutting down classrooms tents that were flapping wildly and part of them torn to shreds. We lost five out of nine of them, and a wooden shack which was shortly to be used for storing athletic equipment, but there was no major damage to the main buildings. About ten we secured the office for the day and brought our work back to the quonset. The storm may have been the edge of [pg 18] a typhoon; it is an almost annual affair here, though there was none last year. In camp most of the houses held up, but all were thoroughly water [soaked?], and on the benjo walls (of old tin) were leveled. One of the enlisted men's benjo's was also. Tomorrow I expect to be issued a rainsuit - parka, trousers, and books - which I'll probably never have another occasion for like today's but which will be comfortable on any rain-laden windy occasion. It's late, Sweetie, and I'm a little fatigued from writing so long, but I've loved every minute of it and hope this letter finds you where you need it most - as I look forward to doing myself one of these days I love you, darling Warren
