This letter, which Dart says desecrates the Sabbath with his language, brings bitter news for our young lovers. His back became very painful last night, leading to an emergency examination and the decision that he requires a second surgery. “I am damned disgusted with this whole set up. I ask why, in the name of the six Peruvian devils, they couldn’t have done the job completely and correctly in the first place?” A very good question, indeed! Not unlike what we see today, it’s easy for a nation to say that those who serve deserve the very best. Yet adequate follow through on that commitment seems elusive at best.

After regaining his strength from his bout with measles and  pneumonia, he’ll be scheduled for the corrective surgery. Recovery from that should take about three weeks. (Yeah, right!) If all goes well, (and it seldom does), he could get boot leave by late spring. He hopes it will come before Dot leaves campus and perhaps the Cleveland area.

Having vented his wrath, he turns to a surprisingly chipper response to Dot’s letter. He tells about the time his high school glee club performed a concert at Andrews School and embarrassed themselves mightily. He tells Dot how glad he is that she decided she wants to go to college. He teases her a bit about how relieved her housemates must be that she is off cook duty. (She invited that ribbing.) He praises the clear, crisp, snowy weather they’ve been having in Chacago, as well as the quality of the chow at the hospital. He thanked her for the candy she sent and said he’d saved the last kiss, but wished it could be a real flesh-and-lipstick variety.

He apologizes for his poor excuse of a letter this close to Valentine’s Day, but says he’s already sent her his valentine message. He wants to know what she thought of his poetry, but begs her not to use the kind of language he used earlier in the letter when she sends her response.