1943: Brush Strokes of the War

Chapter Two: Jackson

June 15, 1943

June 15, 1943

Dear Jackson,

I miss you greatly. It feels like it’s been so long since I last saw you, and truth be told, it has! It’s been months. And I worry so much. Fighting in the war is just so dangerous! You could be shot, or go missing, or be in a crash! I’m sorry. I shouldn’t go on that way, it’s silly of me. Counting off on my fingers all the things that could go wrong doesn’t really help much, does it? It just makes me upset, and telling you about it probably makes you upset, too. I’ll try not to worry too much, I promise.

But, I really can’t help it. How can I not worry? I’m thinking day and night if I made the right decision, letting you join the air force. I’d never forgive myself for letting you go if something bad were to happen to you. You’re just so young! Do be safe, please. I need to know that I made the right decision.  

There’s so much going on, I wish I had you here to help sometimes. Abigail’s just had her baby, it’s a boy! She and Walter have decided to name him Charles. Abigail’s intending on having some pictures made of him, and I’ll send a small one as soon as she gets them developed. He’s simply adorable! I can really see the resemblance between him and his mother. I know Abigail would have loved to let you hold him.

Robert and Virginia miss you as well. They’ve both got to pitch in more, now that Abigail’s consumed all her time with the baby and you and your father are gone. Robert is stepping up though, and acting like the man of the house. I suppose he is, now that he’s the only one living in it. It’s so strange, being in the house with half of everyone gone. It seems like there’s so much to do, and so little to do at the same time. I’m cleaning up after fewer people, and cooking for fewer people. But now that Abigail’s had her baby, and Walter’s leaving for the navy next month, I’ve been going over to their house every day to help out. I wish I could convince Abigail to move back home, just while Walter’s away. I don’t like the idea of her having to care for that baby all alone.

Virginia’s fourth grade class has started a project to help out the war effort. Everyone in the class is learning how to knit, and they’ll each knit a few pairs of socks to send over. I don’t know where exactly the socks will be going, but maybe you’ll be getting them. She’s very excited about it, she feels like she’s helping out with the war effort, just like her grandfather, and her father, and you and Walter. I think she’s just excited that she’s doing something to help out.

Lillie’s missing you, too. She comes by sometimes to say hello. She was probably hoping I wouldn’t let you go. Make sure you write to her, too, I know she’ll appreciate it lots. She really seems worried about you.

Please be safe, and write back quickly. I need to know that you’re doing well.

                            Love,

                                Mother

I sigh and rub my eyes. A response is going to be a cigarette requiring job. I remove a single cigarette from the pack sitting on the table, and find the lighter in my left front pocket. I ignite the end, and the take a drag from the cigarette. It takes me a minute to find a pencil and a piece of paper in my dormitory. There isn’t exactly an abundance of practical household supplies and stationary.

“Jackson!” Harry calls out. “Come on, we’re about to start!” I usually play cards with a group of guys each night. Sometimes we gamble, both other nights we play other games just for something to do.

“Yeah, give me a minute,” I say.

I scribble down the date and a greeting on the piece of paper.