Dart’s overjoyed by the mail call he got yesterday – four letters from Dot and three from his parents. They all tell the wonderful stories of Dot’s graduation and the lengthy visit they all had in Cleveland. The most recent letter from Dot was written on February 17 – not such a terribly long delay, under the circumstances.
At this point in the letter, he’s interrupted by another mail call. He’s had a total of 35 letters since arriving on this ship and he thinks the mail will now be coming in as regularly as one can expect while on sea duty.
Today, he visited a destroyer tender and met a “ghost,” a guy named Lester Stern who was a year ahead of him at Shaw, a year ahead at Case in the V-12 unit and roomed next door in the dorm. Lester just graduated from Annapolis and is now an Ensign. They had a long talk about old times and Lester told Dart that lots of their old V-12 buddies are out here in this area of the globe. Dart interjects that where they are is not where Dot and his folks guessed he was from his early letters. He hopes no V-12 guys get assigned to his ship because it’s “awkward business” to know an officer personally.
Because of censorship, Dart can only write on one side of the page (to allow for excising forbidden words or phrases, I suppose.) He’s really burning through stationery and it’s hard to get more way out where he is. The paper he’s using today is not worth much, but it’s priced high at a penny per sheet.
He asks Dot to let her mother know that he’ll write to her soon. He’s afraid he never thanked her for the Christmas gift, but magazines are prized commodities while at sea. The Readers’ Digest she gave him for Christmas are very popular with his shipmates and with him.
If Dot’s looking for an enjoyable book without message or purpose, he recommends Chicken Every Sunday by Rosemary Taylor. It’s light and amusing, along the lines of My Sister Eileen or Life With Father.
He asks Dot if, when she was a little girl, she took time out from playing football with the Alley Rats to play any of the little girls’ games like skipping rope. He tells her that the guys have great fun performing for each other jumping rope on deck. The ship’s always rolling and pitching beneath their feet and occasionally a wave washes over the deck, but some of the men are really good, nonetheless. He describes the fancy footwork demonstrated by the best jumpers, and then confesses he’s only managed to do “regular” skipping, and then only about 10 skips in succession without a miss.
“Here I’ve come all this way without telling you how doggone much I love you, and my paper’s used up. Don’t worry. I’ll write a love letter someday soon.” In Dot’s eyes, aren’t they all love letters?
