Here are just a few quick lines at the end of Dart’s first liberty in eight months. He spent some time at the U.S.O. before exploring the city on his own and learned two things: Milwaukee is quite a bit bigger than he had expected it to be, and a train yard and engine are not proper places for a white uniform. (No longer so white.)

He’ll have a medical exam in a few minutes and then he’s off to an unknown destination tomorrow. He hopes he’ll be somewhere on the East coast so he and Dot can see each other more often. “Until I can write again remember that wherever I go, my heart and my memories are with you.”

Dot writes a page of introduction to a poem she wrote to try to explain how she feels about Dart. She writes, “It’s corny and juvenile and everything else poetry shouldn’t be, but I’m sending it along anyway just to show you how I spend my time.” She recalls that a week ago at this time, they were sitting in the car by “their” island. How she wishes she could have said the words then.

The second page is the poem itself. Later in her life, Dot would become well known for the witty, clever ditties should could write for any and all occasions. This work is neither clever or witty, but it speaks volumes about the depth of her feelings for her sailor.

An excerpt:

You’ve given your love, which is more to me

Than all that has been or is to be.

You’ve awakened my heart to that which is good

And have done more for me than I thought anyone could.