Nov. 13, 1942
I was awfully glad to get your letter today, but it sorta made me feel bad to hear that you are still sick. I hope my darling is well by now. Wish I could be there to help nurse you back to health. Would you like that sweetheart?
As I said, I’m in the best of health although my nose is kinda stuffed up tonite. We were out tearing around the reservation in jeeps all yesterday afternoon and all day today, and got my system well filled with dust and grit. As far as I know, my weight is the same as when I came down. It’s funny, but lots of the fellows have gained weight here. Guess it’s the regular hours.
Please convey my thanks to Al + Bernadette, as I barely have time to write you.
You hadn’t told me that your brothers were joining the air corps. Sure hope they can make it all right. It’s no more dangerous than any other part of the army. In fact, it is really surprising how small is the ratio of casualties in the air corps.
Cecil + Scottie Jameson are definitely relatives. Scottie is my dad’s sister. They really are grand people, too. Although if you’re at all like me, you won’t like their daughter. But Cecil and Scottie are just about my favorite relatives. Scottie is like you in lots of ways. She has quite a sense of humor, and she’s game for anything. Cecil is one of these dry, comical guys, with a drawl. I know you’ll like them.
Darling, I’ll have to think of some names for our Christmas card list. Will let you know soon.
Wish you could see your parents. If I’m assigned to a post in the East, there’s a good possibility, because you could just sorta stop off on the way.
Graduation day is only 12 days away. Think of it, darling, by noon, Nov. 25th, you should be the wife of Lt. Hopkins instead of Sgt. Hopkins. I’m having some calling cards printed, and will send you one. Later, I’ll get some for you and some for Lt. + Mrs. Does it seem funny to you to be going by the name of Mrs. Hopkins instead of Miss Haind? At first, I had quite a time addressing your letters. I either wanted to call you Miss Marjorie Haind or send the letter to [Jim’s mother’s street address], Casper, Wyo.
About my leave, there are only two things I can possibly do. Either give up my leave entirely and stay here, or go home. I can go home for around $4000, and if I stay here, there’s not much chance of getting any leave again soon. Wish I either had the time or the money to come to Salem, but if I did come out by train, we’d only have four days at the most, and the money involved is just more than I can see. In fact, it just isn’t, that’s all. In view of all the circumstances involved, the only thing to do is to go home, even though I’d much rather go to see you. I’d give the world if I could either come to you or take you home with me. Darling, I want you and need you so much that I’m afraid I’ll go nuts if I don’t see you soon. I must be rather inept at handling my money, or something, because Speck is going to Salem. I don’t see how he’s going to do it, but I guess he does, or he wouldn’t be going. He hasn’t bought but just barely enough uniform to graduate in, so he’ll have to pay later, whereas I guess the difference is that I’m pretty well fixed for uniform, and we can get together quicker after I’m assigned. Poor Speck isn’t going to have his wife with him, as she’s going to stay in school.
Right now, darling, I feel as though I’d trade this whole darned thing for some time with you. I hope you realize and understand why I can’t come to you during my 10 days, even though I’d give my left leg to be able to do so. But there are so many things involved, such as lack of money, scarcity of time, the distance involved, and also the fact that in the past two years, or the past 19½ months, my parents have only seen me for 10 minutes, make it practically impossible for me to come to Oregon. I imagine people will probably think it peculiar that it should be that way, but I know you understand and realize what I’m up against, and that our delaying our getting together for a little longer really means that we can be living together sooner.
I’m going to ask to be assigned either to Camp Adair or Fort Lewis. So pray for luck, darling.
Must close for now, sweetest one. Please get well soon if you’re not already well. Remember that there’s one who loves you terribly, whose every thought and deed are dedicated to you.
Write me again soon, my darling. And please, please get well soon.
Goodnight, darling, from you lonely husband who wants you to always love him, and who hopes he can be worthy of you.
With all my love and kisses,
Ed. Note: Shorthand time!