“Sorry Mrs. Bloom, no soap.” - February 3, 1942

Miss Jean Johnson
Sheboygan, Wisconsin

Dearest—

This seems to be the last piece of stationery in the barracks so I’m going to write as small as I can to make it do. The post exchange is closed so I can’t get anymore ‘till morning and I don’t want to wait ‘till tomorrow night—that’s the trouble, there’ve been too many tomorrow nights. Darling again I’m sorry.

Congrats on the new job—here’s hoping you like it as much as you think you’re going to. I knew damn well you’d get it though—’don’t see how anyone could turn you down with that smile of yours. I wish we could have said “sorry Mrs. Bloom, no soap.” From now on every time I hear anyone mention “two years,” I’m going to feel like stuffing it down his throat. Hon’ ever since I got back, and for the last couple of weeks especially I’ve really missed you, and it took your swell letters of last week to snap me out of it and make this old world look like a half-way decent place to be.

It’s four weeks now since we were together, and sweetheart if the next four seemhalf as long, I’m really going to be “hurting” by March. That two year wait does sorta scare me darling—up to the time I met, and fell in love with you the idea of marriage never entered my head, a date was fun or it wasn’t, and that was that, and now when I want to marry you more than I’ve ever wanted anything, we’ve got to wait! I love you now and for keeps, and if anything should break us up I swear I’d join the foreign legion—and you know how I love the army!

Gal they’re really getting tough on us now—twice as much studying, classes on Saturday afternoons, only 45 minutes off at noon instead of an hour and a half, and now there’s a rumor around that we’re going to have to go to classes on Sundays—I don’t mind too much though, the extra work just gives me less time to think about being home, and to cuss the army in general.

About your bracelet, I looked through the car that Sunday morning and didn’t find it, but I was late for Mass and went though the car so fast I may have missed it. Why not call my mother and ask her if they’ve found it?

Last week I was put in charge of the top floor of our barracks and moved into a private room. ‘Got to take bed-check every night and get the boys up in the morning (I overslept myself, twice already) I’ll probably be catching a lot of hell this last month too for not getting them to clean the barracks to suit the lieutenant. One nice thing about the private room is that now I can keep my lights on as late as I like (more time to write letters(?). Trouble is, after the lights in the barracks go out, everyone congregates in my room for a poker game or just a plain bull-session, and I get less time now than before—tonight I chased them out early and am lying in my bunk alone with my radio, your pictures, and a flock of memories. I’d give my right arm to have you here beside me too—Darling I love you g’nite for now,

Louis