Feb. 17, 1944: Bruno to Fran
I received another letter from you today dated Feb 1. I also took all your old letters, layed down on my sack (bed) and read them all. I found quite a lot in them that I didn't even read on my first attempt. Guess I'll have to give them the once over again. What you asked for Dec 16, Dec 24, Dec 31, Jan 5, Jan 11, Jan 28, Jan 29, and Feb 8. No bad, eh! what? I just decided to go to the show. See you later.
Well I went to the show last night and saw "Princess O'Rourke." It sure was a swell picture. Glad I didn't miss it.
It's been raining for the past three days and this morning it's snowing. The way things look we won't be flying for quite a while. But then you can never tell about this English weather. In the next half hour the sun may come out and make it look like a spring day.
Boy when you have troubles they sure come in buckets, don't they? I hope the kids are feeling better now. You tell Maria that when I come home, I'll let her drive my car and blow the horn all she wants to. I sure love that kid, Fran. I'm still going to send her the rest of that war bond.
Fran, you don't have to think you started something when you told Mom about me sending you money. I guess Mom is happy now. I'm sending her seventy-five a month and then I'll be sending her extra money when I have any left over. Right now I want to send Jen some money for her birthday. I can't buy her anything over here, so I figure if I send her some money, she can buy what she wants. I wanted to send her a hundred bucks so she can buy a hope chest. What do you think, is that enough? I don't know when I'll send it, because right now I have a furlough the 13th of March, and I'll need a little money. But I'll send it as soon as I can.
I'll write that letter to Helen Petrie as soon as I get the package. I haven't received your packages as of yet. But I guess they should be here soon. Boy, that's the only thing we ever have to look forward to over here. (Packages and more packages. I want you all to send me as much candy as you can.) We don't enough of it over here. (So please, Fran, send me candy, all you can).
Well, what do you think of my Air Medal? I guess now all I have to do is sweat out the D.F.C., that's the Distinguished Flying Cross. You get that after completing twenty-five missions. And will I be happy when I can say I've been on twenty-five. It's an awful strain just sitting around waiting. I guess that's why their sending us to a rest home for seven days. You'll have to excuse me again, I'm going to chow.
Well, they didn't have much for chow. I had some mashed potatos and peas. Remember how you and Mom used to say I'll have to eat everything when I get in the Army? Well, I still am a fussy eater, in fact, more so now than ever before. I still don't care for meat every meal, and I still don't eat string beans. But I do like spinach.
Sis, I do have a lot of faith and trust in Jen. But if ever I should hear anything when I get back, she's going to have to do a lot of explaining. But I guess you can't believe what people are saying, so maybe I'm just talking "As usual." I love her so darn much, Fran, that sometimes it hurts me to think of her. Maybe you think I don't know how lucky I am, but I do. I've known ever since I came into the Army. I guess if it wasn't for her that I would never know. Sometimes I'm almost glad I came into the Army; it has shown me a lot of things I've never known before. And I'm going to do my darnest to live up to what you said about me making a good husband. I guess I have to show a lot of people.
Well, Sis, I can't think of much more to say. So I'm signing off. Give my love to all the kids and a big hug and kiss for Maria. So long, Fran, and take care of yourself. God bless you and your family.
Love Kid Brother
P.S. Forget about that little affair. You just keep writing.
Note: scrawled in a darker pen and different handwriting between the closing line, "God bless you and your family." and Bruno's sign off is this note:
I am allowing the dates mentioned in this letter past; however, ask your brother not to mention dates in future letters. The Censor