This is a sweet letter, written by a love-sick sailor who was smitten by an unrelenting love for a pretty, perky, practical girl and will never be the same.
The opening paragraphs mentioned lots of work, no time to write, and a rare game of cards he was roped into last night. He’s never liked cards before, and his opinion remains the same after his experience last night. For what it’s worth, he never came to like cards and could hardly ever be persuaded to join in any type of card game. It was quite the opposite with Dot, who was always up for any number of games. It was she who bore the responsibility of teaching their future children everything they knew and loved about cards.
Then he tells her that he has been entertaining himself by repeatedly writing the name of his cousin Jim’s wife – “Mrs. Dorothy Peterson.” He thinks it’s a perfectly lovely name and vows he would not find it confusing for one moment if there happened to be two women of that name in the family. In fact, he’d quite like it.
He resumes the letter when it’s nearly bedtime. Two hours ago, he moved a buddy off his locker so he could retrieve the start of this letter and Dot’s picture. Since then, the gang has been engaged in lively conversation with no letter-writing being done. Topics have ranged from good books to sports (for which Dart, I’m sure had very little to add), past Navy actions (which he cannot write about here), and girls. “Just between you and me and anyone who’ll listen, I think I’ve got the sweetest, prettiest, most completely lovely girl of any fellow on the ship. Your pictures are really admired by all who see them. ”
He continues, “Something I wish I could do is make a reasonable facsimile of interest when fellows show me pictures of their girls. But I begin seeing you instead, and with your smile lighting the back of my mind, I can’t praise any other girl at all.”
The rest of the letter is filled with such poetic sweetness that I cannot paraphrase it with any justice. He says, “Boy, how I wish I could look into those pretty brown eyes with little flecks of gold in them, again. Want to hold you in my arms, feel your cheek soft against mine, whisper things in your ear and kiss you again and again. I heard my buddy Vernon Hite talk about all the girls he’d kissed before he met his wife. He discussed several (lemons, spicy, firm, warm, cold, etc.) and said that his wife reminded him of rosebuds when he kissed her. I’d heard that expression before, but I’d been looking for it to describe in some way the girl I wanted to go on kissing forever. If I had a nickel for every girl I kissed before I met you, I could ride downtown on the streetcar. But even that amazingly small (for a lad of 21) experience is enough for me to know that you’re the one, the only one I want. And knowing you feel the same is the greatest consolation I could have for not being with you.”
