11th April 1943
Dear Karl,
Dad is doing better. He was able to come home today. He thinks he’ll be back at the embassy in a few days. Mum thinks it will be a while longer. I won’t be able to stay long enough to see who’s right. I hate to leave Mum and Dad, but work is expecting me. Shirley arranged for a few days off, but it’s hard to justify more time away when I’m not really doing much here. Just keeping Dad company and making the occasional sandwich or cup of tea. Irving’s leave ended the day after you left, so he returned to his airfield but expects another pass to London soon.
Have I told you I’m not a very good cook? I don’t suppose we’ve spent enough time together in places with a kitchen for you to figure that out yet. Mum showed me a few things, but rationing isn’t helping. The skill of the cook is important, but the ingredients also play a vital role.
Perhaps I’m going off on tangents because I’m worried about what I need to write next. Dad’s illness changes everything. He was planning to ask for an extension, to stay in England longer. He can’t say much about his work, but I assume with the war on, he’s had a great deal to do. Now that his health is uncertain, Mum thinks they’ll go back to the States this summer. Find work for Dad that involves something approximating forty hours a week rather than seventy. Live somewhere closer to Dot and baby Judith.
I know we hadn’t made any definite plans about what to do when the baby comes. But one of the options was that I move back in with Mum and Dad in London. It would have given me somewhere to live and family to help with the baby. Maybe even the chance to work again, if that’s what I decided. And I would’ve been able to see you when you had leave. It wouldn’t have been the same as if we found a little flat in Liverpool, but I think the savings on rent and the extra hands to help would have outweighed that. With Dad working such long hours, Mum said she would welcome me and another grandchild. But now they’ll be leaving just as the baby is born.
A little flat in Liverpool is still an option. I don’t know a single soul in Liverpool, but you’d be there, from time to time. That seems to make it the best option. But there’s also the offer from Dot to go live with her in Maryland. I’d have company and free rent. But I might not see you again until the war is over, and that still seems so very far away . . .
* * *
30th April 1943
Dearest Millie,
When it comes to a choice of what to do when the baby comes, I think you have to make a decision based on what is best for you and what is best for the baby. And I think we both know that the best plan is a return to the United States. Rationing there isn’t so strict. And though the Kriegsmarine has made its presence known off the East Coast, America is out of Luftwaffe range, so there won’t be any air raids. And you’d have help. Don’t get me wrong. I want to be a father. I want to help when the baby won’t go back to sleep in the middle of the night, and I want to hear every new sound, every new word. But a couple days of leave every few months won’t be much of a relief to you, and we can’t afford a nanny, at least not yet. Of course I’ll miss you when the Fireweed sails into the Mersey and I have time ashore. But more often than not, we head out again within a day or so of reaching Liverpool. One of my messmates has family in Birkenhead, but even with them being so close, he doesn’t always get to see them. And leave in New York or Boston isn’t entirely unheard of.
When I crossed over the border from the Reich, all I wanted to do was see the end of the Nazis. Their defeat would mean justice had been served. I still want justice. But now, I also want peace because when peace comes, we can be a real family, spending time together every day. Watching our children grow. Praying together. Eating meals together—even if neither of us is a very good cook. Someday, Millie, God willing, that will happen. I’m still pulled to Falcon Point—the land is in my blood; it’s part of who I am. But more than I want Falcon Point back, I want us to be together as a family, and I’ll take that dream wherever it can happen—in Austria, in America, or somewhere else. I have a duty to fulfill, and I’ll always do my best to make you proud. But I’m looking forward to peace now, not just because I want justice but also because I want to be with you.
Love,
Karl
* * *
5th May 1943
. . . Your idyllic vision of family life might be less rosy after a few burned meals . . .
* * *
18th May 1943
. . . One more reason to win the war. Falcon Point always had a cook.
* * *
24th May 1943
. . . You’re right, Karl. It’s time for me to go home. It feels strange to call the United States home because I’ve lived abroad for so long, but it is home, even if I’ve spent more time away than I ever spent there. Going home means I won’t see you as often as I would in Liverpool or London, but when it comes to our child, I think I’m going to need help.
I may cry every time I get a letter and learn you had leave and we might have seen each other, if I’d only been strong enough to do everything on my own. But until the war is over and I can lean on you whenever I need to, I think I’ll need to lean on my family.
Love,
Millie