“I know that I missed a couple of letters, Joe, but I’ve been very busy these past three days. I put off writing my term paper in education, and when I set aside time to do it, I had to put in extra time at the plant. You can take some satisfaction in the fact that there is no coasting at home. This summer I will work on my thesis exclusively, and by January I will have my degree. I have no news, really I don’t, and I am still bone-tired. This is a rotten letter to receive, and as soon as I can snap back I will write a better one. I will send this nevertheless, as I know you want it …”

“See? I am having my breakfast and writing to you again. I mailed the last one before I went to bed last night. Sleep helped. I had a dream, and this morning I woke up believing that I was five months pregnant—I actually looked for my stomach. I felt very let down when I really woke up. We should have talked about it, at least. We are living in a sort of suspended animation, but we should have somehow reaffirmed what we got married for. Maybe I want you to tell me again what you are going to do to me. Do you remember? I loved that kind of talk. I did, Joe. I want to hear it again from you.”

Her next letter, dated two days later, had a different tone. “The announcement came late this morning over the public address system. Everybody felt the gravity of it at once and there was no cheering. Down at the other end of the shop one of the men got up on a bench and said, ‘I think we ought to pray.’ It was superfluous. We were thinking of all of you. I know you’re in it and I pray to God that you’re all right. We aren’t getting much news but we don’t think that they would hold anything back. There is that desire to talk to strangers. I heard one woman say as we were leaving tonight, ‘Just wait until they see our production figures tomorrow.’ That’s about the attitude. Of course the churches are open. People are afraid for the country and what will happen to it after the war. In so many ways America is irretrievably committed. This is our proudest moment, but there is a deep fear about our national destiny. We will have to be something after the war, and none of us knows what it is. We are ill-prepared, or too young, or confused. But we do not want to see bad things happen after all that we have worked for. D-Day may someday be a national holiday, but today is a very sober day, serious and prayerful.”