ED. NOTE: Da-dum-da-duuuummm! With this letter, we have the first time that our Jim writes to his new bride.
Somewhere in Idaho.
Sept. 2 / 1942
The penmanship is going to be terrible, but the train is to blame. I just wrote you a post-card, but had to write more, just had to.
I’ve missed you terribly all day. Wanted to call you from Portland, but couldn’t on account of the crowds in the station.
I wish we were together, darling, and as each mile goes by, I wish it more than ever. I’m the proudest man in the world every time I stop to think of your being my wife. Please remember that I’m very much in love with my wife, and I hope she will always love me as she does now. Never got much time for our honeymoon, did we? But we’ll have one in December.
We stop for an hour in Cheyenne, and I wired from Tacoma for the folks to meet me there; hope they can make it. We get there at 11:55 tomorrow.
I hope you weren’t too tired yesterday. I never really got a chance to realize how tired I was until I got on the train. Had an upper berth, but sure slept well after I once got into bed.
I’ve re-lived every moment we spent together since last Thursday. And with each time I love you more. If only I could talk to you and make love to you this very moment. Every minute spent with you was heaven on earth for me, and I hope that I may be able to make you as happy as you deserve to be, and as happy as you have made me. Darling, you’re absolutely the sweetest, most lovable person in the world in the humble opinion of your devoted husband. It’s hard for me to realize that such an angel could be married to a guy like me. There just aren’t words to describe how I feel about you, really. But you know from the way I act and talk when in your presence just how I feel about you. And it’s been that same way ever since the first moment we met. If I had lost you after that moment, it would have been more than I ever want to undergo. You’re the first girl I’ve ever really cared for, and I hope that I will be able to be the husband you deserve to have. I’ll try, darling, you know that.
We’ve stopped for a few moments, so I’ll try to get something to eat. Trying to eat in the diner is too much like work. Just too many people for the size of the diner.
Will write you again soon, darling.
Your loving husband,
(another note in shorthand)