Read Online Sentimental Journey (Home Front - Book #1) by Barbara Bretton - Free Book Online
Authors: Barbara Bretton
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time between now and Christmas to go and see.
Did you ever get the photos I sent you? They really were terrible, weren’t they? No wonder you stopped writing! But seriously, let me know if they got through. If they didn’t, I’ll ask Aunt Pat to hurry up and make more copies and we’ll try again.
I’ve cut my hair a little since I last saw you. Maybe you should forget all about the way I looked at the Stage Door Canteen that night. (It seems like a lifetime ago, doesn’t it?) There just isn’t time to fuss with curlers and rouge these days. I bet if you saw me now you’d think I was as serious as a librarian! Not your type at all, I’ll bet.
Things at the factory are booming. I think Dad will be very happy when the year-end financial statement is calculated. (I just sat back and reread this letter. Is that really me writing about financial statements? It’s hard to believe that only a year ago I didn’t even know what a financial statement was! It sure proves you can learn anything in this world if you really have to!)
I hope you and my father have a wonderful dinner. We’ll say a prayer for you and thank God that both of you are well.
Sincerely,
Catherine
P.S. Enclosed is a small present. Hope it sees you through the cold winters in—C.
December 31, 1943
Dear Cathy,
Your letters reached me a few days before Christmas. I guess Tom told you we’ve been moving around a bit. You were right about the Thanksgiving turkey dinner, right down to the cranberry sauce and candied sweet potatoes. That was about the best meal I’ve had in years. (But I still have my fingers crossed that I’ll be having that breakfast with all of you before too long.)
I hope you and your mom and Nancy have a Happy New Year. Sergeant Munson got some whiskey on the black market and we’re going to toast 1944 in style.
One year ago I was in Atlanta welcoming in 1943. Boy, did twelve months bring a lot of changes. Makes you wonder what we’ll all be doing this time next year, doesn’t it?
Maybe we’ll be lucky and we’ll welcome in 1945 together.
Who knows? Anything’s possible, right? Maybe we’ll even get to dance together again. Even with your new haircut, you’re probably the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen.
Best wishes,
Johnny
P.S. Thanks for the scarf you knitted for me. Next time make it a blue one. I’ve seen enough olive drab to last me the rest of my life!—J.
January 15, 1944
Dear Johnny,
I’m afraid we didn’t have a very exciting New Year’s Eve around here. No one had much enthusiasm for noisemakers and confetti, especially not on Hansen Street. Aunt Edna and Uncle Les tried to put a good face on it, but it was hard to make merry when we’ve lost someone so important to all of us.
This is the first year my mom has ever spent without Daddy around. Did you know they were childhood sweethearts? They grew up right next door to each other in Astoria. Mom says she knew she wanted to marry Daddy from the first second he peeked into her crib. It’s so hard for her to be without him, but she never says a word. Never complains about anything. Sometimes I wonder if I’m a changeling. There are times when I just want to scream at the top of my lungs about how unfair this war is and how much I hate it, but then I think about the terrible things that are happening in this world and I feel so selfish I’m ashamed of myself.
What a terrible letter this is! And here we’re supposed to be cheerful when we write to our servicemen overseas! I promise to write again tomorrow and tell you the funny things that have happened at the plant.
By the way, you said you wanted a blue scarf, right?
Hope you like it!
Keep warm,
Cathy
P.S. The traffic lights are back on at night! The dimout seems to be ending. Do you think that’s a good sign?
P.P.S. I’m glad you liked my picture.
U.S. SHIPS AND PLANES HIT ATOLLS
IN SAVAGE ATTACK ON MARSHALLS:
AMERICANS BOMB GERMAN CITIES
— New York Times
January
Did you ever get the photos I sent you? They really were terrible, weren’t they? No wonder you stopped writing! But seriously, let me know if they got through. If they didn’t, I’ll ask Aunt Pat to hurry up and make more copies and we’ll try again.
I’ve cut my hair a little since I last saw you. Maybe you should forget all about the way I looked at the Stage Door Canteen that night. (It seems like a lifetime ago, doesn’t it?) There just isn’t time to fuss with curlers and rouge these days. I bet if you saw me now you’d think I was as serious as a librarian! Not your type at all, I’ll bet.
Things at the factory are booming. I think Dad will be very happy when the year-end financial statement is calculated. (I just sat back and reread this letter. Is that really me writing about financial statements? It’s hard to believe that only a year ago I didn’t even know what a financial statement was! It sure proves you can learn anything in this world if you really have to!)
I hope you and my father have a wonderful dinner. We’ll say a prayer for you and thank God that both of you are well.
Sincerely,
Catherine
P.S. Enclosed is a small present. Hope it sees you through the cold winters in—C.
December 31, 1943
Dear Cathy,
Your letters reached me a few days before Christmas. I guess Tom told you we’ve been moving around a bit. You were right about the Thanksgiving turkey dinner, right down to the cranberry sauce and candied sweet potatoes. That was about the best meal I’ve had in years. (But I still have my fingers crossed that I’ll be having that breakfast with all of you before too long.)
I hope you and your mom and Nancy have a Happy New Year. Sergeant Munson got some whiskey on the black market and we’re going to toast 1944 in style.
One year ago I was in Atlanta welcoming in 1943. Boy, did twelve months bring a lot of changes. Makes you wonder what we’ll all be doing this time next year, doesn’t it?
Maybe we’ll be lucky and we’ll welcome in 1945 together.
Who knows? Anything’s possible, right? Maybe we’ll even get to dance together again. Even with your new haircut, you’re probably the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen.
Best wishes,
Johnny
P.S. Thanks for the scarf you knitted for me. Next time make it a blue one. I’ve seen enough olive drab to last me the rest of my life!—J.
January 15, 1944
Dear Johnny,
I’m afraid we didn’t have a very exciting New Year’s Eve around here. No one had much enthusiasm for noisemakers and confetti, especially not on Hansen Street. Aunt Edna and Uncle Les tried to put a good face on it, but it was hard to make merry when we’ve lost someone so important to all of us.
This is the first year my mom has ever spent without Daddy around. Did you know they were childhood sweethearts? They grew up right next door to each other in Astoria. Mom says she knew she wanted to marry Daddy from the first second he peeked into her crib. It’s so hard for her to be without him, but she never says a word. Never complains about anything. Sometimes I wonder if I’m a changeling. There are times when I just want to scream at the top of my lungs about how unfair this war is and how much I hate it, but then I think about the terrible things that are happening in this world and I feel so selfish I’m ashamed of myself.
What a terrible letter this is! And here we’re supposed to be cheerful when we write to our servicemen overseas! I promise to write again tomorrow and tell you the funny things that have happened at the plant.
By the way, you said you wanted a blue scarf, right?
Hope you like it!
Keep warm,
Cathy
P.S. The traffic lights are back on at night! The dimout seems to be ending. Do you think that’s a good sign?
P.P.S. I’m glad you liked my picture.
U.S. SHIPS AND PLANES HIT ATOLLS
IN SAVAGE ATTACK ON MARSHALLS:
AMERICANS BOMB GERMAN CITIES
— New York Times
January
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