Today, we have three letters – two from Dart and one from the harried Dot.
Dart begins his fist letter in class after completing his weekly tests. He thinks he did quite well on the first and butchered the other. Experience has shown us he often underestimates his scores.
He includes a definition of “fire control,” his area of expertise, for Dot’s benefit. I include it here for those, like my childhood self who might have thought it had something to do with extinguishing flames aboard ship. “Fire Control comprises the entire system of directing and controlling the operations of the offensive weapons of a vessel, including material, personnel, methods, communications and organization.” In other words, it has nothing to do with “Help! Fire! Get the hose!” and everything to do with “Ready, aim, FIRE!”
Later that day, Dart sits down to describe his lazy, lethargic activities of the afternoon. He hung around the lounge reading magazines and picked up a couple of letters from mail call. He listened to dozens of fellows play hundreds of renditions of “Chopsticks” in a variety of rhythms from ragtime to minuet. Finally, he pulled out his sweet potato and joined a band of tonette players for a nice, long jam session. (Can you envision a band of young sailors or soldiers today entertaining themselves and their friends for hours by playing “Chopsticks” followed by a concert of plastic whistles?)
He apologizes for this poor excuse of a letter and hopes to do better next time.
“Next time” was later that night as he jots off another couple of pages. There are big changes afoot at Treasure Island. Dart’s group will soon be moving – still on the island – but he doesn’t know where. They’ve been forced to move their barracks 500 feet from their lockers and now their dorm is a busy thoroughfare.
He received a letter from a Cleveland buddy who’s in the Army and studying something in San Diego. He had just returned from a furlough back home and learned of yet another of their high school friends who was killed in action. All the guys Dart knows who have been lost or killed were recently engaged. Dart thinks it must be a jinx.
He tells her there is much more to say, but no time to say it. He’ll write again soon and he sends his love.
Dot is spending a rare night at home, having gone to a movie with her mother. She recommends “Mr Skeffington,” starring Bette Davis. Like so many of the titles Dot mentions, I’ve never heard of this one. I wonder if any of these old films would be available today. Anyway, she thinks the actor who plays Bette’s cousin George looks quite like Dart’s father.
Tomorrow morning, Dot is going to a dentist appointment, which she dreads. She is, however, looking forward to retiring fairly early tonight, and sleeping fairly late tomorrow. What a treat for this busy young lady!
