My own sweet angel: The Love Letters of Peter Page

MC211.gif
Peter M. Page and Ann Pearman

For Valentine’s Day, we bring you a love let­ter. Peter M. Page joined the US Naval Air Corps after grad­u­at­ing with Prince­ton University’s Class of 1941. The fol­low­ing let­ter is part of the cor­re­spon­dence between Page and his fiancée Ann Pear­man (nee Aigu­ier) dur­ing his train­ing and mil­i­tary ser­vice. (The Peter M. Page papers are housed at the Mudd Man­u­script Library on the cam­pus of Prince­ton Uni­ver­sity. Click here for more about Page.)

Tran­script below images:

Approx­i­mately Jan­u­ary 20, 1942.
img_052
Peter Page:1942 let­ter page 1

img_050
Peter Page: 1942 let­ter page 2

img_051
Peter Page: 1942 let­ter page 3
My own sweet angel–

I had the most mar­velous con­ver­sa­tion over the tele­phone this evening I ever had in my life, with the most mar­velous cre­ation in the his­tory of the world — you’ll never know how I felt this after­noon from the sec­ond I read that let­ter until I finally go you on the phone — as soon as I read it there was only one thing left for me to do and that was to call you as soon as pos­si­ble and find out just what was the story, the trou­ble, the sit­u­a­tion — if you ever doubted in all your life whether I love your or not today should have proven to you just exactly how ter­ri­bly much you do mean to me — if I’d had to go thru this entire night with­out know­ing the answer, with­out know­ing whether you loved me, it would have been too much. I’ve proven just how weak I am, that I couldn’t live with­out you — you mean so much to me that it ter­ri­fies me to think what would hap­pen if you left —– I was going to stay in town tonight and have a few drinks with the boys but after talk­ing to you, every­thing else lost all inter­est for me and after a nice big steak din­ner I came back here to the bar­racks where I could write you for the third time today. All I can think of is you, my dear-heart; you’re in my heart twenty-four hours a day and fac­ing the next four months with­out see­ing you is the black­est out­look pos­si­ble — how can I live four months with­out my “better-half” — its like liv­ing with­out my heart.

Dreamt about you last night — we were back at 10 Rad. Rd and were hav­ing some trou­ble con­vinc­ing Jean­nie that the upstairs instead of the down­stairs was the place for her — she finally gave in, dear­est, finally —
Good night my pre­cious — I wish you were here with me now, now and always, for­ever — be a good girl and love me as I love you, com­pletely & eternally
Yours and I do mean Yours
Peter
For good­ness sake don’t worry about Ma — how could she keep from lov­ing you as I do — and she’ll just love to see you because she knows how much I love you — You’re get­ting as silly as usual and that’ll never do.

Peter Page lost his life on Feb­ru­ary 13, 1943 in the after­math of the Guadal­canal cam­paign serv­ing as a Marine Corps pilot. Ann Pear­man calls Peter her “first real love” and was dev­as­tated by the loss; how­ever she went on to grad­u­ate from Vas­sar and has lived a long and pros­per­ous life.