March 24, 1956

Dear Rosetta:

This is the next to the last week-end.  It seems that though the individual days drag, the weeks fly by.

We were required to get up early, this morning, for a parade in honor of General Holland, the new Post Commander.  Actually, all we did was check in as present and take off.

Last night I fell asleep at seven o'clock and did not awaken till this morning at nine.  I had intended to rest an hour or two and then take in the movie, which was "The Desperate Hours."  Unfortunately, I did not awaken.  This week I see they are showing the "Tender Trap" with Frank Sinatra (again). T.  This fellow has certainly made an acting niche for himself.  And he is always effective.

The boy I spoke to you about who had that unfortunate encounter with one of the local belles--well, the civil authorities picked him up on a warrant, this morning.  I don't know what exactly he can be charged with, but Georgia law is peculiar.  The fact that he is a regular Army Officer certainly hampers him considerably.  Popular sentiment here is on his side and the wise men of the BOQ are speculating as to what they would do, or what they did in similar circumstance. Though I will not voice this opinion in public, my sympathies are with the girl.  In any encounter of this sort, it is still the woman who becomes pregnant.  Besides, I have always hated the way the average man will malign a woman because she acquiesced to his demands.  No matter how you slice it, her sin is no greater than his.

Camp Gordon has been re designated a Fort, which means it is now a permanent installation with the right to greater appropriations.  The City of Augusta is jubilant since their livelihood is wholly dependent on the Post. The newspapers here gave this event front page coverage.

John bought another Boxer (dog) for his uncle.  We will have two of these animals to care for on our return trip home.

                                                       ------------------------------------------------

Believe it or not, one of the things I miss is the big snow you had.  I always have been fascinated by snow drifts.  I used always to look forward to them when I was a boy. Of course, I realize the hardship it can inflict on business--especially the kind I was in.

                                                      ------------------------------------------------

It is windy outside.  Inside it is dull.  I shall miss you very much, this weekend.  It is getting more and more difficult waiting for the day I can hold you and discover again what you feel like.

The nights are cold without your Love

Buddy

March 22, 1956

Dear Rosetta:

Received your letter in which you described our charming little imp.  You have no idea how anxious I am to see and hear her  I can almost visualize from your comments how she must look and sound.  You can be sure that the disposition you describe is not usual among children, and if someone must take credit for the way she is exhibiting her personality, it can only be attributed to you.  I have known since the early days of her coming that you are a perfect mother and ideally suited to the guidance of the little angel.

Today we spent a rather easy day in the field, watching a prisoner of war demonstration.  The delay in transporting us and the coffee break, plus the fact that the instructor released us early, made it a very pleasant day.

I think it is a good idea that you come to the Army Day Parade.  Perhaps you might even come to the week-end at Ft. Dix, which is in New Jersey.  I do not contemplate leaving you out of my sight in the future.  We must take all our enjoyment together from now on because. . .

I love you,

Buddy

March 21, 1956 II

Dear Rosetta:

As I promised here is the review of "Picnic", which I saw last night and thoroughly enjoyed.

It is an excellent play done on a really basic theme.  The amazing thing is what emanates in the way of acting and dialogue from what is a very ordinary and every-day situation.  I don't exactly know the locale but it could almost be this area, here.  If I am not mistaken, the Ozark Mountains are mentioned in the dialogue--and these are certainly South.

William Holden did an excellent portrayal of an earthy type.  He had mannerisms that were typically apropos. His portrayal of animal vitality really came across and fortunately he has the physique to carry it through.

Susan Strasberg? Is that her name? Well, she is certainly a very talented actress.  My only objection to her is that she reminded me of so many of the current television actresses.  They depend strongly on voice inflections to convey emotions--the trouble is, they are all using the same ones for the same emotions.  Of course I like it when it's done well, and it was.

Rosalind Russell gave a startling performance as the frustrated, repressed and vindictive school teacher.

I saved Kim Novak for last. And before I say anything, let me qualify a little.  I'm afraid my comments must be viewed in the light of an enforced abstinence which must inevitably color my opinions.  Well, anyway, she has a cameo-like beauty that is hard to match.  Hair, eyes, mouth--sheer perfection.  She exuded the kind of sensuality necessary to the part with an ease that is unusual.

She acted the part effortlessly and convincingly.  It was certainly a worthwhile production and a real answer to imported films--finally.

Last night, the Iranian Officers celebrated their New Years in the BOQ.  They pulled John and myself out of bed to atend.  It was interesting to note how similar they are to Greeks and most of the Mediterranean races in music and custom.  They sang and Lt. Sayyar, a chubby dark 1st Lt. danced in imitation of the Harem dancers.  He was very good and had every nuance of the belly dancer down pat.

They are an interesting people in many ways. Among other interesting facets of their culture, is the affectionate disposition they have towards each other.  They kiss and fondle and hold hands--just as the Arabs do (I remem ber we were warned by the Army in those days not to ridicule or indicate surprise or displeasure).  These actions have a curious incongruity in our Army atmosphere.  Fortunately, most of our officers are world travelled and did not affect any kind of displeasure. Shades of the "Symposium".

I am enclosing a card I was given.  It depicts, I am told, a wedding ceremony.  Notice the highly civilized approach--from the male viewpoint, I mean.  Pay particular attention to the lovelies who are supplying him with music, food and wine.  I am sure that there should be dancing girls in the picture. Now there is a country.

No further comments just

Love, Buddy

March 21, 1956

Dear Rosetta:

The end approaches.  Only 17 more days before we are released. Now that it is almost over it appears to have gone by fast.  I shall probably look back on a large part of it with nostalgia.

It has been cold the last two days or so.  Those peach trees I wrote you about barely escaped being destroyed by the frost.  There were a few snow flurries in Augusta which was enough to make headlines in the papers.

We have been receiving news of the blizzard in the North.  It must be very difficult for you to get around.  I wonder if it has been cold in the apartment.

One by one, the members of ACO 42 are coming to me for editing jobs on their theses.  So far I have corrected 11.  John says I should not correct them since it will bring the curve-grade up but I don't see how I can refuse.  Besides, the corrections I make are really minor--spelling, rephrasing, a sentence or two, etc.

Rita wrote to me again.  Curiously enough, her letters are light and entertaining.  She writes quite well.  I shall answer her letter tonight or tomorrow.

Tonight, right after I complete this letter, I shall go to see 'Picnic'.  From the reports I have so far, it is an excellent picture.  I will review it in my next letter.

One of the things I have been dissatisfied with is our food.  It has been quite tasteless and ordinary. There seems always to be a shortage of the meat course and this is depressing.  They do have an abundance of potatoes, desserts, syrups, hot rolls and plenty of salad.  But I eat none of these things and the salad dressing is always mayonnaise or French dressing, neither of which I can abide.  One ray of sunshine:  there is all the coffee you want available.  I consume gallons.

The barracks is very quiet.  Everyone has gone to see the movie.  I will venture to say that many of them will be disappointed, having merely gone because of the pressure of opinion which says is it a "good" picture.

You remember I told you that the Iranian likens a woman to a snake.  To him the snake is sensuous, and I suppose it is, if you can forget conditioned prejudices. . .

I shall close now since in this mood I should write nothing but trivia.  Will you forgive me if I close with all my love

Buddy

March 19, 1956

Dear Rosetta,

There are only nineteen days remaining. . .

I should like to inform you that I took a drink or two or three for my birthday.  Your letter advising me to do so arrived too late for me to say I was acting on your suggestion.  Nevertheless, I thank you for the thought.

Last night I danced all night--that is till 12 midnight--to the music of Russ Carlyle.  My dancing partners were provided by five very charming and acquiescent officers all of whom are unhappy on the dance floor.  All the girls were excellent dancers and were delighted to find someone to rumba, samba and mambo with, to say nothing of jitterbug.  I understand by the various comments heard round and about that I am a good dancer.  Probably was the scotch.  Will you forgive this infidelity?

It is now Iranian New Year, 1355 to be exact.  My Iranian friends have been in to extend me holiday greetings. . .Also, I enclose Russ Carlyle's autograph, which you can dispose of as you see fit.  He was at our table and we had a lot of laughs and repartee out of which came the autograph--asked for so he would not feel unwelcome.  He complained that no one had asked him for one--jokingly of course.

Tomorrow there is another examination.  Next week will be three and the following week the Comprehensive.  That does it.  On the 5th of April we are holding our class party and on the 6th we leave for our various homes.  I shall be happy to return.  Happier because you are there waiting for me. And happiest because I know I don't want to be away from home.

Now I shall study for the exam.  Just one more kiss and

Bye for now

Love Buddy

March 15, 1956

Dear Rosetta:

Received your birthday card and the St. Patrick's Day greeting, which I have tacked up on the wall.
So far, it has caused quite a little hilarity, since obviously I look anything but Irish.

Have just come back from the mess hall where for the last hour I have been listening to Major Carrol recount his experiences as a Prisoner of War Camp Commander during the Korean War.  He was involved in that much publicized North Korean uprising of prisoners.  Life and Time Magazines gave him quite the spread. Some of the tales he relates are hair-raising.  When I come home I shall tell you some of them.

The last third of this course is quite hard to take.  The strain is beginning to tell on all of the officers.  Eight hours of constant sitting and listening to lectures is grueling.  Restlessness is apparent in almost everyone.  Curiously enough, the most uninteresting subjects are the ones being given now.  Also, the poorest instructors seem to be teaching.  Apparently, they are trying to cram as much as possible into the remaining three weeks of instruction.  We still have five more examinations to go plus a comprehensive and a thesis.  Withal I am neither restless nor tired.  I has proven not difficult at all.

Have you received any of the erotic letters I sent? (These appear not to be in the package which have survived).  You must forgive my crudeness.

It is a rainy and depressing night.  I shall stay in BOQ and write a few letters. I have quite a few correspondents since coming to this camp.  Some of the boys from the Reserve outfit keep me posted as to current developments in the unit.  I hear that we will have two days at Ft. Dix, New Jersey towards the end of April and that Army Day Parade takes place in May about the second week.

With regard to stamps for Margo (the daughter of Dad's brother Tony)-don't trouble yourself.  Just keep them and I will give them to her when I come home. . .As I've told you, there are only three people in this world for whom I have any affection.  Everything else is surface.

I should appreciate your letting me know how your financial status is to date.

Give Djinna a big kiss for me and a hug.

A Kiss for you,

Buddy

Two letters combined, March 13 and 14, 1956

Full Disclosure:  I do redact some of Dad's letters where he is less than favorable toward members of the family. I understand many of his observations, and there are times I agree with them from my own memories of other events.  But one thing my father and I did fight about was his tendency to be cutting. He was a good, wonderful, kind man. He did a lot for many, but this was a trait, which was his way of channeling a life long repressed anger.  I was an object as well of remarks I could never put out of my mind. I could not get him to see it. I used to say, "Dad, once you say something, even if you don't mean it, it's out there and cannot be taken back."  I understand the anger. It comes unbidden. I have had it more often than I can say. But I have tried always, perhaps remembering how hurt encrusts the heart, to avoid saying what I thought at those moments. Only others can say whether I succeeded.

Another thing that somewhat saddens me when I have read these letters, which I have done since I found them as a child behind books in the single bedroom of our apartment near the Grand Concourse, is that the love my father expresses in poetic terms, for my mother never seemed to characterize the relationship I observed between them. I don't mean the romantic part, which of course a child will not likely see, but any sense of affection.  The secrets which engendered this clear change in attitude will never be known to me. In that sense, the regret they likely felt, is also my regret, because it seems to have impacted, like my anger, unbidden,  my own response to relationship. 

And yet, when I think of the two of them, I feel fortunate to have been their only daughter and grateful for the exotic upbringing in ordinary surroundings. They were extraordinary people who I wish more than anything had had more happiness than they did. At this stage of my life, I have come to see what they gave to me, and how they made my current comfortable existence possible. They are responsible for my religious faith (though they weren't practicing it at the time they gave it to me), for my intellectual pursuits, for my drive, and though I have never succeeded at romance, for my general passion and curiosity about the world around me. 


Dear Rosetta:

Little by little, almost imperceptibly, the days are slipping by.  Already it is the middle of a new week and this leaves only three full weeks to go.  I shall look back on this separation as the means by which I was taught loneliness for you.  In that respect it will always have a fond place in my memories.

. . .

The book you sent arrived and was appreciated.  Capt. Lee of the Democratic Republican Forces of Korea, sends his thanks.

I am delighted to hear about the recalcitrant new Super.  I shall join the list of complainants on my return.

My clothing is adequate.  The laundry does all my cleaning and washing.  Picked up a few things to tide me over.  Now have enough of everything.

Tonight I shall go to the Post movie.  They are showing a picture called, "The Man Who Never Was."  For a camp movie, this is not bad.  This post has had the worst type of D pictures I have ever seen.  Of course, I understand the director's choice of movie fare since I was present when the "Rose Tattoo" was shown.  The GI does not care for this type of drama.  He is more likely to go for "The Creature Returns."

Two Iranians and two Koreans just passed my room.  They are going to the Officers' Club to play Bingo.  There is a large prize at stake.

I shall have to close now, since one of them is visiting.

Love,

Buddy

------------------------------------

Dear Rosetta:

To complete yesterday's letter.  Lt. Shirazi--his real name is Fakour, just like in the "Arabian Nights"--left after reading some poetry from Persia, in Persian, by the way, which I did not understand.  He claims that the poet Hafiz, whose verse he reads and rereads though he has already memorized most of it, can foretell the future.  He claims also to be able to read your mind with the aid of this poet.  For example, he asked me to think of something, keeping it to myself, and he would read an applicable stanza.  The verse he read depicted a woman 'burning' with desire for her love far, far away.  Of course, I know I have a love burning for me far away, but at this particular time I was thinking of an 80 Kilo-ton atomic bomb.  Possibly some analogy, n'est-ce-pas ?

After this visit, I betook myself to the Post movie where I saw "The Man Who Never Was," a rather interesting spy story with some claims to actual fact.  Lt. Rosen states that Rommel mentions the basic incident in his memoirs.  Gloria Grahme was the only low spot in the the presentation.  Her speech was wooden and her action hammy and out of place in an otherwise well-acted melodrama.

                                                      ------------------------------------
                                                            End of Yesterday's Letter

Dearest Love,

Today I "have much lahve for heem which is far avay," as Lt. Shirazi would phrase it.  "Heem" is feminine in this case, though he uses it indiscriminately for masculine and feminine gender.

But to continue; I have much burning in 'house' which is my heart.  And it is fortunate that the burning is so thusly localized.

I can sit here, now, and conjure your image with all its symmetry, all ifs subtlety of line and curve, all those natural splendors of nature in which it abounds.  Away! though temptress, lest thou benumb my brain.  If thou must come, come while yet I sleep; Some dark, just before dawn, while Morpheus sits heavily on my brow.  Thus, in a dream, we can wander hand in hand beside a waterfall.  Listen! canst thou hear the rush of wind in the treetop? Hurry!  Morning hastens with unfriendly light.  Tarry here a while---close--here in my arms-cling, sweet lips, beat wildly dear heart, closer, closer--closer. . .

Will you come some night, and wind your fingers gently through my hair and softly breathe my name, and take my hand, and lead me to some grassy spot where we can lie and love.  Will you come, tonight, and every night until I die?

Buddy