Never Give Up the Jump by Susan Gurwell Talley & Jack L. Talley

Author:Susan Gurwell Talley & Jack L. Talley [Talley, Susan Gurwell & Talley, Jack L.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781637584293
Publisher: Knox Press
Published: 2022-11-16T11:37:17+00:00

Jeane’s next letter came with an apology as she tried to assure George that she understood that writing was not always possible. She continued to drive herself, interning on a rotating schedule at the hospital, as she finished her nursing degree and tended to her baby on her limited off hours.

November 2, 1944 [Portland, Oregon]

Our Dearest Darling,

No letters for a couple of days—I’ve wanted to, but was too tried to write. Things seem to have piled up lately with long hard hours of work, but none of it matters because there were three whole wonderful letters from you, written from that Holland foxhole—Oct. 8, 11, 13. They were such good letters Darling, and I’m so proud of your morale and spirit in the face of all that has been so tough, all those things that you miss and lack.

Now, finally, for those precious letters—let’s start with the first. Most of all, my conscience bothers me terribly and I’m more than humble for any griping about you not writing when it was impossible to do so. Yes, Sweetheart I do understand—in spite of the stinky tone that creeps in at times, always needing and asking for your love, getting sometimes a little too tense and tired, and then not being the wife you deserve—but will watch it. What a poor soldier and an impossible 1st Lt I would make. The shells that were so close. You know about tenseness and loneliness and more.

What a sight you must be, bailing out a foxhole and with a mustache. I can just see your disgruntled soul. Was it more of a job growing or dismantling the soup strainer? Glad it’s dismantled, you might get bugs in it. Seems a shame that when you’re in your little foxhole, safe from the women, you can’t be safe from the shells too.

The last letter held the cross. What a lovely, lovely thing, so intricate. Wonder what the craftsman dreamed of while making it? Made in Italy [We do not have it], found in Holland, now here. Not so long ago, you held it in your hand and dreamed your dreams. Somehow, I could see you turning it over, smiling a little to yourself. I proudly showed it to everyone at the hospital. They raved and exclaimed over it.

Now your letter—the last one dated Oct. 13—startled me in turn, George Darling. Please go on reprimanding me and snapping me on my feet when I need it. You married kind of a childish girl, didn’t you? But she’ll try harder to grow up—to get rid of old tendencies to doubt and that little green-eyed jealously monster. Sometimes I get tired, lonesome for you and wonder about the things I see and hear that I don’t understand, or maybe it’s a strained moment that begs for reassurances. Funny how we all gripe and think ours a sad lot, when it’s never half as bad as it could be.

November 8, 1944 [letter continued]

George, Sweet, if we don’t hear that you’re out

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