Dart has written five letters in the last two days and three of them have been rejected by the censors. When that happens, the writer gets a little slip of paper telling why the letters weren’t allowed. In his case he says he simply talks too much. Did he give too many details? Did he say unflattering things about the Navy or an officer? Or were his letters simply too long to read? It’s hard to know. Oh well, he says they weren’t worth the six cents it would have taken to mail them, so there’s no loss.
While the rest of the crew had a holiday routine day of leisure, the fire control gang had a big project to do and could not rest until it was finished. Fortunately, they finished around noon, so they all got the remainder of the day to relax. “It was an interesting job. I like this work, especially when there is something interesting to learn. I’ve always liked to tinker with electricity and little gadgets. There’s really an astounding amount of knowledge required before a man becomes proficient at this line of work. Now I’m beginning to realize the Navy is utterly dependent, for its usefulness and efficiency, on its highly technically trained enlisted men; the fire control men, gunner’s mates, electrician’s mates, radio men, radio techs, water tenders and boilermakers, and machinists.”
He talks about salt being the biggest trouble maker, having great ingenuity at stealing little bits of electricity, requiring equal ingenuity at sleuthing out those thefts from the clues it leaves behind.
Yesterday on the beach Dart heard a guy say that if the war ended tomorrow, he’d be mad because it had not ended today. That’s just how Dart feels. As it stands now, it looks as though the Haggard is about to enter one of those extended periods when no mail will be leaving or arriving because they have a job to do soon and will be stepping out of port to do it.
The entire crew observed five minutes of silence for Roosevelt tonight. Dart doesn’t feel as secure without him to lead the country. He hopes that his ideals will not die with him.
Dart is enclosing a couple of snapshots that the ship’s doctor took of him. All the guys who have sent these photos home report that their loved ones have been thrilled to get them. Dart is so grateful to the doc for taking the pictures and printing them at his own expense for all the men on board. He hopes Dot likes them, in spite of him needing a haircut.
The bulkhead in his tiny workshop has been papered with a fresh batch of “bedroom-eyed, voluptuous, scantily clad pinup girls. They attract and distract a lot of attention, but their attraction cannot compare to a certain vision he has of the girl whose picture he carries with him. Her radiance that smiles from the frame, into his thoughts, dreams and daydreams of their few days together adds up to one thing; “I wanna get back home.”
He says “In spite of the beauty I’ve seen, the free meals, the supposed education that comes from travel, I’d rather be working to earn a living for us, back in Cleveland, which is at times, decidedly not beautiful. And I’d just as soon read about all these forsaken foreign shores if I cannot enjoy them with you by my side.”
He’ll pick up on her idea and choose Dot as the girl he’d most like to see whenever he opens his eyes.
