Letter #47

Letter #47

July 1, 1918

Boulder, Colorado

My Dearest Sweetheart,

It is Sunday afternoon and I have nothing to do but to write and think of you dear, for that is about all I’ve done today. There is no church until evening. It surely has been a long morning. I tried to sleep after morning mess, but could not, for right next to my hay, as we call it, a crowd of young fellows were playing poker. Then after the noon mess, I lay on my hay reading your most loving and heart soothing letter. Everything was so quiet after finishing reading, for my heart was full, I tried to sleep. I had just gotten to sleep when I heard someone say, “All this way for the poker game.” Well, everyone was off then, so I went to George’s room. I found him. Then we went off to the Y. I am trying to pour out my love and deep affection for you. If life is as lonely at home for you as it is here for me, I surely can sympathize with you.

The weather here has changed a great deal here since Friday. We went to bed Friday night and everything was right for sleeping, but Saturday things seemed to be dark and gloomy, and I shook when I went out in the morning to report. It lasted all day, and last night I was compelled to sleep with three thicknesses of blanket over me. Today is cool, but the sun is shining and things look as if they will brighten up a little.

This morning we all had to answer with our names while in rank to see if everyone had signed the payroll. I think we get our pay next Tuesday, $30. “Our” pay, you get me?

Just think, dear, just one more Sunday to be spent in Boulder, and where we go from here I don’t know. But I think we will know this week sometime. So I will know my fate, if such a thing exists, whether it be of good report or not. But whatever it is, I’m at the service of Uncle Sam and I am willing to go where he wants me to go. It puts me in mind of the song, “I’ll Go Where You Want Me to Go, Dear Lord,” which is to me a living inspiration to those who have any thought of God at all.

I want to ask your forgiveness for when I wrote last night. Hazel wrote, you were not at home, so she had the cherries sent herself. Now, dear, I did not mean to hurt your feelings. If I did, let’s just say there was a misunderstanding between myself and Hazel. But your letter surely straightened things out, which it always does. Now, you tell them this, dear: they were the best cherries that I ever had this year, and they were packed and shipped with the best of care and they looked as if they had just been picked from the trees. They were received with the best of regards and wishes as any person could have.

I don't know whether I will find time to write to Brother and Sister Barlow, for I will be very busy this week and next. There are two holidays this week, and we’ll have to parade all over town, but I have not forgotten them, for they surely are a grand couple of old people.

You spoke of all the time that I was robbing you of. If you only knew the amount of life and good cheer that comes into my mind because of those hours you spend in sending me your love, you would not believe it! By this you will surely think I am selfish, as I have told you before dear, I am, it is the only true love I can obtain, and it is the only pleasure I get. I have read your letter twice today so that I would be sure I had not missed anything. For there is nothing too small for me to have, from such love as you send to me.

I got out the picture I have of you and the one Hazel gave to me, oh, how they made me feel, for I just felt like taking the ones of you and placing them to my lips, for such an honor would be worth keeping to the bottom of my heart. It reminds me of the first time I ever kissed you; do you remember how surprised you were? But, it was in me and had to come out, for when the heart is so full, that even one more drop will run it over. Something must be done and done in a hurry. Sweetheart, if you only knew what that one kiss meant to me, none of them has been so good to me as that one, except the ones you made me fight for. Now that is just the way I feel. This surplus must be gotten rid of in some manner or the other, and the only way to get rid of it is by pouring out all of my love and desires for my lady love at home.

You said you saw a soldier and a girl going down the street and that you could not look upon them. I don't blame you any, for when I see soldiers and their sweethearts together, it makes me think of the time I'm going to have when I get back home. But just as soon as I get to thinking of those happy days, some fellow comes along and tells me a number of things, which his friend has told him, then everything is shot to splinters, and I must go about to rebuilt my air castles again. I have begun to try and not put too much emphasis on them of late, but remember, dear, I wish I could just get back home, if it only is just for 10 minutes.

Since writing you on the questions of marriage, I have often thought if you think my love for you is beginning to become slack. Now, dear, don't think that, for my love appreciates each day for you. If you will just have patience, and before you know it, I will be back home to get you, and I will build a little house for two. Then we will be as happy as two kittens. The only thing left for us to do is to wait and have faith, for God rules the universe and we are a part of it.

Well, dear, I must say good afternoon, for I must answer some of the other letters I received. I have at least 8 which ought to be answered, but I think I will keep them until after I move. But dear, you will be remembered and never forgotten as long as life is in me. May God bless you, Sweetheart,

Your Sweetheart,

Henry XX

P.S. Give my love to all. Enclosed, find copy of a newspaper clipping. It shows a large picture of a horse and a soldier kissing him. I think it is fine.