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Jim and Henny’s WWII Love Story; Episode 1

Below we share excerpts from Jim’s correspondence to his wife Henny and their friends. The letters help tell the story of how Jim became a Red Cross Man in uniform when he was needed most.

Welcome to the Red Cross, Mr. Klingel! 

West St. Paul, Minnesota, July 5, 1943
THE KRONICAL, CHEROKEE AVENUE CHATTER

A week ago today, Henny and I boarded a train for St. Louis, and last Friday morning we returned. It was a rather sudden trip, and resulted from negotiations commenced last January. The result was that, after a couple of interviews, etc., a chap shook hands with me and said “Welcome to the Red Cross, Mr. Klingel”. I’m to report to Washington D.C. August 9th to start my training and schooling, then to some Camp under supervision of several superiors for further training. After three months, I should be a “graduate” Assistant Field Director, and will then be assigned to some Army Camp.

The work itself, with the Red Cross, sounds very interesting. The Field Director’s job, as I presume many of you know, is to alleviate any troubled circumstances between someone in the service and his home as I understand it. When finally assigned, I will be stationed on an Army Post, and wear a regulation uniform. One thing that I understand will be appreciated is that I don’t have to find my own living quarters in Washington while attending school there. I understand that the Red Cross has sufficient living quarters for their classes there and that as one class completes its course and moves out, the next one moves in. I believe I’ll be in Washington only 15 days or so, but that should be long enough to take in some of the sights. After the three months are up, if possible, Henny and I hope to make some kind of arrangements so that we can live together near whatever Camp I’m at. There’s no way of being sure now, but my hunch is that I will be stationed in Texas someplace. That will be sometime in November.

All of this means that we are about to join the many others who are jumping around from place to place, with ever-changing addresses, living from suit-case, duffle-bag or what-have-you. It also means that, except for perhaps one more issue, the publication of the Kronical will become more irregular and infrequent than ever until the early part of November at least.

From, THE EDITOR