Dart begins this letter while on watch in a cramped space with an uncomfortable chair, but he says it’s a good watch to have nonetheless. He’s plucked from his collection of unanswered letters Dot’s offerings from June 26 and 27 as his inspiration for this letter.

“Yes, Dot. Several times I’ve predicted long lulls in my letter writing; but it’s more miraculous than you have any idea how we managed to get our letters through without any long interruptions. Those warnings were given in good faith, though. For a week you seemed unduly worried in your letters. To be truthful, that was the week your worries should have stopped. I was comparatively safe then. Maybe your worries just came to a head at that time.” (See how he hints at coming through a significant trial?)

“If the censors haven’t cut so much as a period from my recent letters, maybe it’s because I’ve decided to be a good little boy. And maybe you don’t know a hint when you see one.”

So now she knows he’s real because he whistled at a girl once. He hopes she doesn’t mind that he has a few other “real” characteristics which she’s bound to discover over time. “I’ve noticed a few in you, and I like ’em lots, Dot.”

He tells her that the biggest trouble with getting home before the end of the war is that he’ll only have to return to the fighting again. “Those partings are terribly difficult for both of us, Dot. But why look at the black side of it? The last time I saw you it was for only 52 hours. Leaves of 30 days plus travel time are granted to men from overseas. We’ll enjoy what we have.”

“I love you and I miss you too, Dot. I promise you a five-minute kiss the instant we meet. Then we’ll move aside so the rest of the people can get off the boat.” Funny guy, this sailor.

Both Dot and her father wrote to Dart today. First, Dot’s letter.

Yesterday, she and El went sailing on the Miller’s boat, “Ship Shape.” It was the first Dot had seen this beautiful craft that Mr. Miller built himself. It’s 28 feet long and can sleep four. At one point, Dot decided to swim along with the boat, but by the time she dove in and surfaced, both the boat and the long tow rope were far out of reach. The “crew” had to circle back and pick her up. She hung onto the tow rope for about 15 minutes, bobbing and ducking under the waves, to the delight of little Chris. Eventually her arms grew tired and she came back on board, but she had loads of fun!

This morning Mrs. Miller called to say that the strong winds last night broke “Ship Shape” from her moorings, and she washed ashore. Luckily, she washed up on a weedy beach and suffered no damage.

Today, she gave her room a good cleaning – the first time in ages. She’s be staying up until very early morning for several nights, so she needs to get to bed earlier tonight in preparation for the big sale at work tomorrow.

She’s still terribly worried about Dart and hopes to hear soon that he’s alright. I wonder if this is residual angst over El’s recent calamity – a realization that one never knows when trouble’s about to pay a visit.

Then comes Arthur Chamnerlain’s letter. I’ll quote it below, nearly verbatim because it’s so good.

“Your letter addressed to Mrs. Chamberlain and me can hardly be said to have come as a complete surprise, nor has Dot entirely hidden her feelings from us. And I am glad you wrote – not that it is a necessary formality, for I do not consider it as such – but it does help a parent’s ego, you know.

We have always been of the belief that when the children reach the age of maturity, their decisions should be their own, and influenced as little as possible by our feelings or desires. That belief is particularly strong when it comes to the matter of a choice of future life companions.

And so, Dart, to answer you specific request for permission, I can only say that it is not mine to give, but if you and Dot have come to a mutual understanding and agreement, God bless you both.

The greatest wish for your future happiness that I can give you is that it may be as great as my own over the last thirty years.

For my part, I regret that conditions have been such that we have had little chance to see you. Dot, however, does give us some excellent reports. She wouldn’t be biased, would she?

From all we can hear you fellows are doing the impossible to those yellow Japs. More power to you, and the best of luck in all ways.”

So here’s my question: Did everyone know how to write a good letter back in those days, or did I just happen to get lucky enough to be born into a family of fine writers?

Finally, there is a secret note slipped into the envelope from Ruth. She explains that she’s enclosing some photos of Dot as a baby – photos that might meet a “firey end” if Dot were to get her hands on them, so she’s sending them to Dart with a request that he keep them safe and keep her secret. Funny!