This letter is very short, but so tender and full of longing that I feel compelled to quote most of it verbatim. In the top margin, he’s illustrated it with one of his whimsical stick figures; this, a man with big feet, wearing a sailor hat and a huge grin. He’s running full-tilt toward a mile post that marks the way toward Cleveland.

Now, let’s join the letter in progress:

“So far today, I’ve been in the sack all the time, writing, dreaming and talking. I’ve written six letters – this is the seventh. I still have several to write and I’m almost out of words.

Needless to say, the dreaming has been of you and the talk has been of wives and you. You just gotta be there, honey. You just gotta be there if the Navy doesn’t let us down.

I got an awfully sweet letter from your mother yesterday. Please tell her I’ll try to answer it sooner than the last one. She said that if by some miracle I should be stationed on the East Coast, the latchstring at 115 Mason Street would always be drawn for me. Fine. I’ve been hoping, deep down in the darkness of my black ol’ soul that a thing like that would happen, but I’ve been afraid to mention it for fear I’d be struck by lightning. Don’t worry about that, though. The streets of Hades will be slick with ice before the Navy stations a man near the girl he loves.

Almost time for Sunday night supper and I haven’t begun to do all the work I have to do.

I love you and miss you more than I can ever tell you, at least for a long, long time. Maybe after the war we can say the words that will prove our love. Until then, I love you always.

Yours alone, Dart”