Dart begins this letter in the telephone center, waiting for a call to Cleveland to go through. That’s all he had time to write before he was connected to his parents. Now he’s waiting for the next call – the one to Dot. He dreads making this one, because, as much as he wants to hear her voice, he doesn’t want to make her cry and he’s sure the topic of conversation will do just that.

He’s about to tell her about his next assignment. His first stop will be Charleston, South Carolina, where he’ll probably meet up with his ship, the John R. Craig. He thinks he has some friends on board, and he’s been told she’s the flagship of the group. What that means is lots of regulation, which he suspects will be better for him than a “renegade ship and crew like the Haggard.”

This morning, he applied for a job at the newspaper office on the navy base and was snatched up immediately. Moments later, his transfer papers came through and and he was excused from all work details, so his career on the station paper was short. Such occasions as this cause me to ponder the effect of fate and timing on our lives. If his transfer papers had been delayed by several weeks, might he have been able to take his first baby steps toward a career in journalism? By transferring to a new ship, did he “miss the boat?”

He’s asked his mother to send him his camera and some film, so he hopes to be able to take some pictures on this cruise. (I suppose cameras will not be banned aboard ships as they were during the war.) He’ll probably send his watch home, although he hates to part with “his little buddy.”

Three years ago at this time, he was taking his exams to enter the Navy; his active duty orders came in Mid-June. Two years ago at this time, he was entering Great Lakes Navy Hospital; he was released from there in Mid-June. Last year at this time, he was on a train heading west for his departure from the USA; he began his homeward trip on the Haggard in mid-June. What does that tell Dot about the next time she’s likely to see him? The Navy is suggesting now that men with 27 points like Dart will probably get their discharge in about 7 months. That fits the pattern. “That must be the time we’ll hope for. Do not set your heart on it though. The Navy is a fearful machine, entirely unpredictable in it’s actions.”

Well, the dreaded phone call came through and Dot, indeed, cried. He wishes he could have spared her the heartache. He wishes he could spare her the loneliness by not going back to sea. “Oh, my Darling, how I’m going to miss you! Not getting your letters for a while will drive me frantic and give me the disposition of a molested grizzly bear.”

“I remember the day I gave you the ring. I felt the richest person in the world, just then. You were in a light dress, I in my whites. I held your left hand in mine. We each had on a wristwatch. You were wearing a brand new sparkling bit of gold and diamond. For some reason, I remember those watches. Gee, that was a thrilling moment. Did you know, before you saw the box, that I was going to give you that ring? The happiest moments of my life, or just about the happiest.”

He thinks he may just win that bet with Hal. He wonders if he’ll be a married man by the time that weenie roast rolls around.

He needs to find a container for his pennies if he uses his watch box to send his watch home. He should start packing, but he’d rather spend more time with Dot. He doesn’t leave Norfolk until 4:45 tomorrow, so he has so time to get his chores done and he prefers writing to his fiance.

Several random thoughts jumble together now. He congratulates her on her English theme. He asks if she envisions them sleeping with his arm around her when they’re married, as he does. He doesn’t think going to school in the summer is a great idea, but he’ll probably do it once he starts up again, so she should do what she thinks is best.

He’d love to have Thanksgiving with the Chamberlains, but that won’t be possible. “You seem to all lead such a wholesome, well-rounded life. Hope I acquire some of the family characteristics.”

He must send his new address to his folks and then hit the sack. He sends a loving “goodnight” to his favorite fiance.

Dot starts the day with a note before running off to her biology test. The house gave Mid a simple little birthday party last night – any reason to cease studying!

He’s been so faithful with letters, and she’s been so lax. She lives for the days when letters won’t be necessary, but she’ll miss his letters then.

She starts a second letter later in the evening, thanking him for the two “masterpieces” that arrived in today’s mail. Then the letter was interrupted by Dart’s phone call, followed by a good cry and a long walk.

She has come to the conclusion, that as the luckiest girl in the world, she has no right to cry. That’s just pure selfishness on her part. Would he believe her if she told him she has a big smile on her face now? It was hard to come by and didn’t last long, but it was there for a moment. It’s clear that stepping on Lucky packs didn’t work this time, but she is almost convinced that his new duties are for the best. After all, everything that’s happened to them thus far has been for the best, so why start to question the system now? (This young woman has more positive attitude in her than the entire Mormon Tabernacle Choir!

Her housemate Joyce has stopped by to comfort her. Joyce and her “one and only” Bill have experienced as much separation as she and Dart. Dot’s grateful for someone who understands and is willing to cheer her up. She’s also grateful for Dart and his attitude about this whole development.

She wraps up the letter with “I love you more than life itself. Keep your chin up, darling! Bon Voyage and hurry home!”

Is it an improvement when despair turns to disgust? It’s a little hard to tell, but maybe Dart’s letter will give a clue.

He had an orientation of sorts today – assigned his bunk and locker, told about liberties, given his $8.00 paycheck.

He tells a remarkable story about Navy efficiency. “Until a few months ago, all men entering boot camp were provided with a mattress. All ships with bunks were also equipped with mattresses. On October 15, all mattresses became the property of the Navy, and men sent to receiving stations with their mattress had them confiscated. Ships built since the beginning of the year have not been equipped with mattresses. Now, all men coming aboard this crazy, no-good, sloppy ship have no mattress and can’t get any, and the ship has none. So, we sleep on the springs.”

He continues, “The Navy isn’t an organization. It’s an unfathomable conglomeration of grand and petty inconsistencies which occasionally work in parallel courses long enough for something useful to be done.”

In his mind, the only bit of hope in this situation is the part that says he’ll be out in eight months. That seems like an eternity to him, but he’ll do his best to survive with his sanity.

The ship’s post office has no record of his transfer, so all the mail that was sent to him directly or from Norfolk has probably been returned. He hopes he doesn’t get into trouble for something he did today, but what’s done is done. And what’s done is this: When he was explaining to the mail clerk about the lapse in records leading to no mail, the clerk said, “I don’t give a damn. Do you?” Dart reached through the window, grabbed the guy’s collar and shoved him, saying that yes, he certainly did give a damn! Some of his outburst was instinctive, some was deliberate, but the situation is all Navy!

Last night he wrote about 12 letters to let folks know his new address and he hopes the effort will result in mail. But the mail he’s most interested in is the letters from Dot, of course. He says he’s sorry they missed each other on the phone call Sunday night. He misses her more than ever.

At last we hear from Dot! When she read Dart’s two sad letters today, she wanted to set about cheering him up. Unfortunately, when he’s not happy, she’s not happy and two unhappy people don’t make very good constituents for writing cheery letters.

If knowing that she loves him more than anything in the world and misses him just as much doesn’t lift his spirits, nothing will.

If the Craig is not going to go around the world, does he know yet where it’ll be going? Right now, she must get going to tap class so she can make a fool of herself.

She suggests he focus more on the future so that maybe the present won’t look so bad. Good advice, Dot!

Writing from Charleston, SC, Dart tells of the moon rise over the marshes. It’s a romantic sight, as all full moons are, but not as romantic as if it were viewed from the front porch of a lake cottage, or the cockpit of a canoe, tucked away under the branches on the shore of that lake. “Romance on a tin gunboat? Pooey!”

This would-be writer hasn’t lost his gift at travelogue. He spends several pages describing his first liberty in Charleston, which was a solo experience. He was very impressed with the ancient charm, the architecture, and above all, the friendliness of the residents. “Charleston seems as alive and friendly as Norfolk was dead and discourteous.” He spoke with an elderly couple who, like him, were out for a walk to view the sunset. Twice, girls in passing cars whistled and hooted at Dart, reminding him of Dot and her infamous wolf whistle.

Yesterday he met Joe Burke,  classmate from Treasure Island. He’s here in the navy yard decommissioning a destroyer. The two pals spent the evening at the USO, listening to records, playing games, drinking milkshakes, and catching up on the months since they’d last seen each other in January.

His mother has told him that she forwarded a couple of letters to him. One is a congratulatory card on his engagement from his first high school date. The other is from a Private Kellogg from Camp Atterbury. He’s quite curious if Dot might know such a person, because Dart is sure he doesn’t. Who could this mysterious stranger be?

He’s holding out hope that since he’s begun getting mail from home, tomorrow will bring some from Dot. He misses her all the more when her letters are also absent. How he wishes he could whisper goodnight to her in their own home.

Dot writes an uncharacteristically low key letter tonight. She got an A on her written archery test, which is practically an “must” for a physical education major, but she’s discouraged by biology and English. In fact, she mentions how she’s gets less and less enamored with Kent State the longer she’s here. She talks about a possible transfer to Hiram College with it’s student body of about 300.

The only upbeat part of her letter is when she talks about Dart’s recent 12-page masterpiece which is still awaiting an answer from her. She thinks it’s about the best letter he’s ever written. She says that in some ways, it’s even better than one of those long talks they love to have, because Dart let himself go more in the letter than he’s prone to do when she is at his side. Until she has the time to give it a proper response, she wants to assure him that the desires he expresses in that letter are the same as hers.

She wishes she had some clue how to comfort her lonesome sailor, but she has nothing to offer because she’s feeling the same as he. She just wishes the months that must pass before they are together would hurry up and pass.

Finally! Three letters from Dot arrived today and made Dart feel a lot better. Not physically, because he was still feeling so sick that he slept through dinner – but he’s much less lonely now.

He also learned who Pvt. Kellogg was. He saw Dart’s picture in the newspaper and would like to be friends with him. Dart got a little kick out of the “fan mail.”

A letter from Hal was also in his batch of mail today. It looks like Dart won the weenie roast bet because Hal’s back in Norfolk. Apparently, there is no such ship as the Glennon, or the Glennan or the Glennen. There was a destroyer with the same number as the ship Hal was supposed to transfer to, but it was sunk in the Coral Sea months ago. Now Hal is awaiting transfer back to Boston for temporary shore duty until his discharge comes through. “So Hal’s another Navy casualty of the Red Tape Brigade.”

Yes, he’d like to call her, but his tone would reflect the same mood as his letters and that would do neither of them any good. When he thought about calling her a few days ago, there was a five-hour wait for a line, so he decided against it. Maybe he’ll try again soon.

Dot must have mentioned hearing the words to “The Wedding March” from “Lohengrin” on the Hour of Charm radio show the other day. She had quipped that it was #1 on every young girl’s hit parade. “I surely hope it won’t be too long before you hear that song from inside your own bridal veil.”

He refers to a conversation that they had a while ago in which she told him about her sister Harriet’s many miscarriages. Perhaps Dot’s recent letter told him that she’s had another one, because he writes, “It must be terribly heartbreaking for her and George. There seem to be so many obstacles and accidents and close calls possible in the process of being born that it’s a wonder anybody’s born at all. Add to that the problems of blood types and heredity, and the adverse conditions under which a life is started, and the results are really astounding. Maybe the bad or difficult things just seem so prevalent because they cause so much heartbreak, discomfort, and loneliness. I hope that we can easily have as many healthy kids as we can afford and that we can afford as many as you want to have. I don’t have my heart set on any particular number because you’re the one who should have the say-so on matters like that. All I want is children – at least two.” (I love the fact that he concedes the exact number should be her choice.)

Yes, she’s right. Loving her and knowing she loves him does make him happy, but when he can’t be with her, and when other things are conspiring to make his spirits low, it’s hard for him to rally. “My spirits are low in spit of all the love and longing and pride I have for you.”

His ship is scheduled to join the Pacific fleet as close to New Year’s Day as they can make it. “If it doesn’t go around the world, it’ll probably end up in Iron Bottom Bay with the rest of the scrap steel.”

With tongue in cheek, he agrees with her assessment about sleeping in. “Yes Dot, it’s shameful to stay in bed until noon. The proper procedure is to get out of bed early to prove your good intentions, get dressed to give further proof, eat something for nourishment, and then go back to bed to stay as long as you jolly well please!”

He threatens to stop writing long letters if she keeps saying they make her feel inferior. But he wishes she’d comment on one particular letter. He’s most interested in hearing her thoughts on the subject.

I assume she said something about that record he made for her before leaving Norfolk, because he refers to it “wearing out.” He says it might be better that it did because she might have grown tired of it.

Again referring to something she might have said in a letter he got today, he talks about his train trip along the coast from Norfolk. It cost him an extra quarter because he had to buy a newspaper to tuck into the cracks around the window. He was attempting to keep out both the cold air and the black, sooty grit that was blowing into the car. One young man complained to the brakeman about all the coal dust coming through from the outside. The brakeman responded, “That ain’t coal dust. That there’s cinders!” He said it as though it were an honor to be covered in cinders!

In a funny little riff, he tells her to stop ribbing him about his ribs and shoulders. “They’re raw enough without your raw cracks. Haven’t you ever heard of ‘raw bones’? I don’t’ mind too much, except that it hurts. Not your humor – the raw shoulders.”

He’s surprised that she, too, wonders if the longing they have for each other is unhealthy. He hopes it’s a good, healthy sign that they’re very much in love. “The way I feel at times, Dot, I wonder just how long we’ll have to wait before being married. Years, even two of them, seem so long.”

He quotes a line from her long letter that he’s wanted to say countless times in his. “I wish I were going to sleep with your arms around me. And I wish it now. Goodnight, Darling.”

Dot’s hasty note is written as she dashes off to her last English class before Thanksgiving break. She’s so eager to leave for Cleveland in a couple of hours that she can hardly stand it. She thanks him for his two “super” letters that came yesterday, and promises to answer them from his parents’ house this weekend. She fills the rest of the page with a giant “I love you!” In tiny script someone else writes “I love you too.” Dot’s PS says, “That was Mid. See? Everyone loves you.”