Letter # 462 August 25, 1944

New Guinea
Friday eve.
Aug. 25, 1944
My Darling Wife;
Gosh, honey, I'm having fun.  Can you guess what at?  Eating popcorn and drinking beer.  The other fellows went to the show so I'm stealing a march on them and made up a batch while I'm writing to you.  It popped real nice.  You'd laugh at the equipment but it does work no matter how it looks.  A gallon can with a wood handle with a piece of fly screen over the top is my skillet.  A peanut can of gasoline saturated sand is the stove.  I begged some butter and salt at the kitchen so there you are.  Really something different.  I still don't see how you thought of it, but you can bet I'm glad you did.  You can send some more of that any time you want.
Popcorn brings back a lot of memories.  Swell memories.  Ones I'd like to be reenacting right now in part, at least.  Memories of cold winter evenings when I'd come out to see you and work in the shop building things for the day when we'd be married.  The bed, your vanity, the chairs, the dresser and other things I did for Mom.  Sometimes, if it wasn't too cold you'd come out "to see" and maybe urge me to quit work and come in. Other times you brought me a kettle of popcorn and I'd take a break and even get a kiss or two.  When I'd come in Mom usually either had more popcorn or else made some and we'd all sit and eat and talk a while, until Mom & Pop would considerately say they were sleepy and go off to bed, leaving Babe and I to amuse ourselves.  Darn nice of them,  We didn't need much amusement, did we, honey? We'd curl up on the davenport and "uze" and maybe even talk a little.  Lots of times, we'd go to sleep and wake up at one or two and I'd have to go home.  Damn it.  I don't know how I was so dumb as to keep it up as long as I did.  I think if I'd have said the right words you'd have been glad to quit teaching before your certificate ran out.  Wouldn't you?  You didn't care much about teaching anyhow.  I have only one very lame excuse for that.  I thought I wasn't yet in a position to support a wife properly.  I know now it's a foolish idea.  You aren't at ll an expense.  From the monetary standpoint you're an asset and I mean that.  We had more and accomplished more after we were married than I ever did before. You've never yet asked for any money, in fact, I usually turned to you for it.  I remember we took our vacation one year on what you had saved from a very meager allowance.  Since then I asked you for money a couple other times.  You're swell, honey.  I don't see how anyone can be so nice in so many ways.  I'm not kicking about it any.  I'm loving you.  Now, since I've been away, I've found that a good wife is very glad and willing to pitch in and help in any way she can.  Too bad I didn't learn that sooner.  We could have had several more very happy years together.  I'll try to make it up to you, honey.  To both of us.  I'm learning the hard, slow way.  You're the teacher too, whether you know it or not.  You'll never get away from the profession as long as you keep me.  Do I stay?  I could stay over here with the army of occupation if you don't want me back, you know.  You better not tell me to stay over here.  I'll haunt you.  I love you, honey.  You're my perfect wife.
I did succeed in getting another ring made in time to send.  It isn't as nice a job as the first.  I tried to hurry it too much.  In as much as it is only a token of remembrance and not anything you'll want to wear, I guess it'll pass.  In a very small way it stands for and expresses my feelings for that great day of Sept 8, 1940.  Four years ago.  Gosh, sweetheart, it means more to me every year.
The first year while our marriage was more or less in the experiment and adjusting stage, I was very well satisfied and happy with the new life.  The second year we had gotten past the first test and were becoming a good team and I began to realize that marriage was a very  nice institution. I forgot all about the "good old free and single days" as people seem to refer to them.  Why, I don't know. I could never see where I had ever been any happier or more satisfied.  I began to get fat didn't I?  Then the third year.  It became very apparent I was going to have to leave you and  home for the army.  That really made me realize that I would never be satisfied without my darling wife.  The new life and new experience of really and truly loving someone else had become a very necessary to me.  Yes, honey, our marriage is way past the experiment and adjustment stage and will always be a very happy and tender one.  So here's to our fourth anniversary and may there be many, many more of them.  A hundred, or a thousand for that matter, would not be enough.  I know there can't be any such number, but we'll make the most of all we have.  Happy returns, honey.  I love my wife so much.
Now, I'll say what I started to say about the little ring.  The silver in it won't stay very bright so it isn't anything to wear, unless you want to of course.  Its' only purpose is remembrance.  If you want to shine it use some silver polish.
We've had our little popcorn party and "Mac", "Bake", and "Oil" say thanks very much to you.  They really went for it.  Evidence, an empty Jolly Time popcorn can.  I thank you too only I love you along with it.
I wrote the nicknames of the boys here.  I guess you can tell who is who.  "Bake" is Baker and "Oil" is Hanson. The name "Oil" is one tacked on him since he's in the army.  He gets right into his work and consequently his clothes are always in need of an oil change.  Hence the name "Oil".  They are all writing for their folks and friends to send them popcorn,  You really hit the spot with that idea, sweetheart.
I also sent another of my attempts at drawing.  It turned out like the ring.  First try much better than the second.  Guess I'd better stick to trades I'm more sure of.  It's kinda fun though.  Wish I could really draw.
No new letters today.  I got another Gazette and another Colliers today.  I have some of your last letter left to answer yet, but it's getting late, [you sent the popcorn] and it's past my bedtime in this country.  Ten o'clock.  Sounds funny don't it? These tropics are going to make a lazy man of me yet.
I'm a little proud of this letter.  I think it almost says what I mean.  Oh hell, it all boils down to one thing.  I love you and miss you so much.  You're my perfect wife.
Your four year hubby.
Norm.