1945: Love Letters

Letter from John S. Sonnen, stationed with U.S. occupation troops in Germany, to his wife Georgiana, in St. Paul, dated August 14, 1945.

My Sweetheart:

It is 11:30 A.M. I have had a legal morning holiday because of my being on guard last night. It is a grand feeling - so different, you know, from my other "hectic-busy" days!

Bill Cook stormed in on me at 9 AM while I was trying to recuperate some of my last night's lost sleep. "The war's over!" he shouted "Come on, Sarge - get the hell out of the sack!" Everyone is called 'Sarg' by Bill and I) Well, there was no sleeping from then on so I got dressed while we discussed the possibilities of getting our hands, and tongues, on some licquoer by hook or crook.

While Bill and I were shouting out the window to Jerry Beaver to pile out of his jeep and let the gawdarn brass drive themselves or hire a horse, Tall-in-the-Saddle lazied into the room. Bill and I continued our brain wracking, grumbles, and mumbles about the liquid situation. After Tall Boy had unwound himself on one of the cots, flicked his toes a couple of flicks, and settle his head into his big ham hands locked on the pillow he offered: "We-l-l — Ah got a mighty hunch that a 'sartain fah-mah' has oodles of schnaps just a twitchin' to trade for coffee!" We jumped at him with both feet so now things are developing for a little 'errand' to this farmer's front door. We shall see what we shall see!

It is now 7:15 P.M. In the interim we accomplished nothing. Bob Mahan's "fah-mah" was not home, but then it is probably for the best because nothing too official has been announced regarding the Rising Sun's fall. Perhaps on the official day some fairy god-mother will have a basketful of bourbon under my cot - what am I saying!!???!!

We even were disappointed in getting a shower today. After Tall Boy drove us 28 miles to D Battery's DP camp and horseshoe plant we were not allowed in the showers because it was DP day. The boys would have just as soon gone in and had some plump Polski lass scrub their backs but the women and men are none too clean smelling nor appearing. Things are tough all over!

The weather was wet again today. Rain seems to be the common thing in these parts. What I am worried about is when does it turn into snow?

I have had no letters from you now for four days. I suppose the mail coming our way is now messed up too.

I miss you more than I can ever hope to tell you. It is impossible for a human being to live long enough for him to say everything that is necessary to say.

I simply love you more than you'll ever know.

John

Letter from Georgiana Sonnen in St. Paul to her husband John, serving in Germany, dated August 15, 1945.
Dear Darling-

Two of your letters from Konigsee came yesterday. I suppose the sheets on the beds seemed very elegant but I'd wished you would have elaborated on the steak you had for dinner.

I'm sorry you won't need the swim trunks. I'd sort of figured you wouldn't get them in time but all the trouble I had in getting them makes me insist you go swimming even if it requires cutting a hole in the ice. Otherwise darling, I won't be so impetuous to get everything you ask for. (Teasing? Yes!)

Stuart got to see all there was to see of Victory day. I drove him everyplace I thought there'd be anything of interest. But nothing was as impressive as the little kids in this block. They formed a parade of their own and with regret I took Stuart out of rank to see mediocre sights.

Stuart's mother got in on Bette's open house last night to celebrate V-J. Her folks are on vacation and we all got chances to go downtown at least twice. It was an all night affair — in fact, nothing need be added once I say there was open house at Droege's. Only this time there was not the usual hilarity. Too much lonesomeness, I guess, but anyway I got in at a decent hour.

I haven't yet enjoyed the pleasure of driving into a filling station to say "fill 'er up." Gez but that's going to be a wonderful sensation.

There are more things than this that I should be writing about tonight but they aren't important so I'll desist.

We're all well, busy and miss you terribly.

Kisses,
George