Dart’s first letter of the day is written just before sunrise, as some of his bunk mates are returning from liberty and he is already on duty. He says he’s received no letters in two days, but the package he got from Dot was greatly appreciated. He tells her he wishes he’d brought one of the candy bars it contained with him to his watch duty because he’ll miss chow this morning.

He’s impressed by the delicious menu at Gale’s birthday party. “Maybe you did gain back what a week’s work had removed, but you had fun, didn’t you?”

He asks her to give her mother his regards and tell he he has no idea who owes whom a letter. He accepts responsibility for the lapse, however, because he owes 10 or 15 people. He’s trying to get caught up with his correspondence, but not having much success. He also confirms that his mother received a nice letter from Dot recently.

“Dawn is just now breaking and Treasure Island’s crazy bird (the only one crazy enough to be here) is cheeping outside my window.”

He assures her that, contrary to her assertion, he can be good and still have some fun. Her reminds her to do the same.

He writes a second letter during math class as he waits for others to finish the test. It’s one of those wretched things on cheap yellowed paper, written in pencil. It’s very hard on the eyes. I doubt he had any inkling that this letter would be saved for posterity and that his poor daughter would have such a struggle to make out the faded words seven decades down the road.

He’s just completed his last Basic Electricity and Basic Math tests until the final exam in both which will come in week 14 or 15 of his training. He predicts that he got about an 85% on each of today’s tests.

He writes that from here, he’ll go to the projection room to watch the last of his daily indoctrination films that have been shown during his first month at Treasure Island. He is hoping he’ll be able to sneak out of that and into the 5:00 swimming class. If successful, he can get in his required 30 minutes of swim practice and then make it to the chow hall before dinner closes. (If unsuccessful, he’ll miss his second chow of the day.) Otherwise, he’ll have to dine at the Ship’s Service restaurant and pay a “fancy” price.

He spends the next page of this letter beating himself up about his swimming. First, he had three to five hours of swimming instruction every week at Case and he still can’t swim. But his real burden is that 17-foot jump from the platform into the pool. He berates himself for being unable to accomplish what even a child can do. He has managed to make the jump once, but since then, he has been mortified to have to climb back down the ladder after being unable to take the “quick way” off the platform. His humiliation runs deep. Here’s a guy who can accomplish most feats of cerebral prowess with ease, but the simple act of stepping off a board and letting gravity take over nearly brings him to a state of apoplexy.

He’s decided to stay “home” for liberty tonight and do some washing. He has a question for Dot, posed by one of his buddies, about why socks break after they’re washed. Maybe too much soap? Dart says his don’t break, but they crackle and rustle in his shoes for a few steps. I’m at the edge of my seat to find out if Dot has an answer to these mysterious occurrences.

He describes the scene outside his classroom window. He can see the San Francisco shoreline and skyline in the distance. Close to the edge of Treasure Island,  a couple of strong, thick-trunk palm trees are silhouetted against the luminous green water. It makes him wonder how tropical vegetation can survive on this wintry island where pea coats are required even in August if one is exposed to the wind for very long.

He signs off with the reminder that he loves her. Then he adds the joyous news that he has received a 100% on his electricity test!

After the eye strain caused by reading Dart’s last letter, I’m relieved that Dot’s letter is a brief, easy-to-read single page.

She begins with the probing question: Is it possible to be too hot to live? If so, she is near that point. To add to her anguish, her job today was sewing labels into fur coats! She says she is becoming a pool of melted butter and predicts that he will soon have fewer letters coming his way because she will have expired.

That’s all she has time for, but the heat is all anyone is talking about anyway. Oh, by the way, she loves him.