Dart writes two letters today, totaling 12 pages, so hold onto your hat and let’s get started.

He claims that after the long letter he wrote yesterday, there’s no news, so he resorts to talking about the weather. It’s cold and blustery, looks like rain is on it’s way, but he has no cause for complaint because they’ve had so much nice weather recently.

He should do laundry, but he’s feeling lazy, so he may go to the canteen and buy a magazine.

Now that he’s made the record, there’s little need to go out on liberty, but maybe he will because he needs to get off base. “In short, there’s little I’m sure of except that I love you.”

“Life without you is so lonely. How will I ever stand the months until I see you again and the years until we’re married? Dot Chamberlain — no, Dot Peterson. Mrs. Peterson! My Wife! What a thrill to think about it. You’ll be so nice to come home to every evening.”

He begins again later in the day. “Do you know you’re engaged to a lout who’ll be as lazy as I am? I know what I should be doing, yet here I sit. In my present condition of slothfulness, the predominate attitude is one of ‘to Hell with it.'”

He explains that when the room was quiet, he lost himself in a John Steinbeck novel. Now, the place is full again, as noisy as usual, and he berates himself for not using the quiet time to write more to her.  “I began this second letter with millions of sparkling ideas blinking in the darkness of my mind, but now I find them slipping away. In fact they’ve slipped, and the darkness is blackness, and I can think only of how very much I like to be with you.” (I must interject here that his desire to be with her never wavered, faded or blinked until his last breath.)

When he thinks about it, he discovers that his needs are simple: He wants his arms around Dot, being her protector and her provider; he wants her arms around him, returning as much affection as he gives her; and he wants an occasional willing ear “to pour my many imaginary troubles into.”

“What makes me crave and desire these things now is the fact that they are mine, by your promise. They’re held in trust for me, by you, and very capably, too. But the lack of these things which are to be mine is felt so much now because they were mine, in sample form, for four glorious weeks which felt like four fleeting days.”

Gee, and most guys would just say “I miss you.” I guess there’s a reason for 12 pages. Poetry takes time and space to reach its full bloom.

He believes that their yearnings for each other are proof that their love is deep and abiding. “Love isn’t entirely a sensual desire for the body of some person…Of course, that desire is present too. But it is only a mockery to desire the body without also wishing to share the life and the spirit; the joys and sorrows; the secrets and prides and shadows.”

He espouses for several paragraph the role he believes Faith has in love such as theirs. Perhaps it is the reward and recognition from a benevolent God for those who try their best to live as He has asked them to. “Perhaps evil thoughts and unkind circumstances are all part of His will, for how can one be truly appreciative of His blessings unless he sees himself or others without those blessings? But far be it from me to philosophize on religion. I’m not equipped to interpret His words, except for myself, and then I never try. I wonder if my conclusions are forced rationalizations for my view on life. I hope not.”

Having primed the philosophical pump, his deep thoughts continue to flow for the next several pages. They are mostly about sex; it’s role in a satisfying marriage, his undeniable interest in it; whether it is the single greatest asset for a happy marriage, or simply one of the assets. He reaches the reassuring conclusion that, since he is convinced of their supreme compatibility in all other aspects of their lives, he is comfortable and willing to wait until marriage to establish their compatibility in the one remaining area they’ve yet to explore.

His final paragraph is the summary of the letter. “This looks like an awfully heavy letter, Dot. It all boils down to a few words: I love you with all the ways and means I have of loving. I’m proud of you and I’m proud of myself for being such that a person like you should fall in love with me. I’m thankful, always, for you, for Us!”

His PS asks, “Does this take the place of some of those long talks we’ve been missing? I think so.”

Dot’s letter is full of the happy news that she was able to drop in on Dart’s parents for a surprise visit this afternoon. Holly was going into Cleveland to find a piano tuner and he offered to drop Dot off. Much to Dot’s disappointment, Ellie invited herself along for the ride.

The visit was intended to be about 30 minutes, but Holly’s errand took longer than he’d expected, so Dot was at Dart’s home for two hours. During that time, Dart, Sr. took a bath, had a tooth pulled and came home with enough time to discuss the Navy/Michigan game with the girls. Meanwhile, Mrs. Peterson was packing Dart’s Christmas box with great care and fussiness.

That brings Dot to the subject of Dart’s Christmas box. What does he want? Where should she send it? When does it need to be mailed?

It was such fun to drop in on his parents like that. She loves them so very much. They asked her to spend the night, but she’d not completed the proper permission forms, so it wasn’t possible. “Besides, it’s less than two weeks until they’ll have to endure me for four days, so I thought it only fair to give them a little rest.”

“Before we left this morning I was rushing around to get everything done. Namely, my big washing. I got everything done with 30 minutes to spare. I took my clothes downstairs to hang everything outside. All was going splendidly until I turned to walk into the house and the clothesline broke! Mustering every ounce of self-control I have, I let out one big ‘HECK,’ and began removing my mud-covered garments from the Earth’s muddy face. I brought them inside, washed them all again and proceeded to hang them on a new clothesline. This time, it began to rain and I began to cuss (almost). So, as a last resort, I brought the d—- clothes in and hung them over backs of chairs. P.S. we started out for Cleveland 40 minutes late.”

She got two letters from Dart which will help to offset the lack of mail on Monday – Veteran’s Day. She’ll answer only one tonight because it’s already 1:15 and she’s dead tired. (Sure, with all that laundry, who wouldn’t be?)

She likes the bet he made with Hal, and she hopes he loses because she hates to think of him boarding another ship and leaving the country. She acknowledges that it must be lonely and boring with his friends all gone and nothing to do.

Barely making it to page 4, she gives up to sleep. She loves him, but writing it is not nearly as much of a thrill as saying it to him, or, better yet, hearing him say those words to her. She misses him far more than she thought was possible.