Description
210 Navy #3247 (Mil. Govt) F.P.O. San Francisco Tuesday 1 May 1945 7:10 a.m. My dearest darling, It had seemed to me lately - though I hadn't stopped to count and estimate what was probably due - that my mail from you was running a little sparse. It was just a vague feeling, one remotely akin to a sense of loneliness, about which I hadn't a second thought until yesterday the avalanche descended, and I was filled [with?] all sorts of warm and cozy, grateful, tenderly and passionately loving and proud feelings. Six letters, all of them good but one especially so; two long envelopes (and also a bulletin from Southwestern, a New Yorker) and a very pleasant letter with enclosure of letter to you from the edition of the Honolulu Star Bulletin, with 2 clippings. I presume that you got the same thing. My reaction to the way the story of my “orders” and being in Hawaii ended was a mixture of momentary disgust and ultimate amusement. I think it would have made me more than momentarily angry if you hadn't gone on to make the remarks you did, or at least if I didn't realize that sooner or later they would help perform the service of your gradual disillusionment with such rumor. Of course it is good to hope (if you could only feel my daily hopes!) but not to lean [pg 2] on every shift in the wind. And with so much at stake you don't learn out of wisdom (anyhow, it's very hard for me too) but, as I guess I said before, rather out of boredom and disillusionment with rumor as such. Sometimes it makes life spicier or more interesting, but mostly it's a bad and cruel thing. Your letter - not merely your words saying ‘and darling, I can take it…hurts deep, but it hasn't hurt me too much and I feel stronger because of it’-is a joy to me because its whole tone is quietly triumphant and promises so much for our being together again. I have told you that (relatively speaking) I like it here, that this place is about the best duty I could expect, that my work is (and will continue to be) interesting-all their things are true. Underneath it all, though, is a persistent ache or feeling of emptiness-of essential futility-so that now and then I catch my reverie quizzically, not quite forlornly, asking ‘and what in God's name am I doing here…’ before I snap to and consciously try to restimulate my enthusiasm a little. I don't try too hard because it would be a falsehood; just hard enough to keep going with a modicum of cheerfulness. Darling, I just need a little encouragement now and then and a lot of loving from and for you, often. Letters like this one of yours come very near to fulfilling my needs, for the time being. I love you with all my heart Warren
