Well, my confusion over a missing letter just got either better or worse. In a letter dated Nov. 14, Dart writes about the topics that Dot responded to in her letter of the 13th! I suspect that pages 3 through 5 of Dot’s letter yesterday were mistakenly filed with her original two-page letter of that date when, in fact, they were written after she had received his letter of today. Clear as mud? Bear with me and we’ll untangle this mystery together.

Dart actually sends two letters written on this, his first day at Shoemaker. Judging from the first paragraph of letter #1, he’s not off to a very good start. “It’s now morning of our first day at Shoemaker. What an ungodly mess! I’m despondent.” He goes on to say that he and his cronies from Treasure Island arrived together last night, three hours late. It took another three hours for them to collect their gear and get to bed. The foul place is huge and muddy – even the paved roads are buried in mud.  He’s eager for his six weeks here to be over. (Which is saying a lot, since his next location is probably aboard a war ship!)

He promises to try his best to get a new picture of himself to send  her. He’d like to get one that’s as life-like and attractive as the one of herself that Dot gave him.

He tells her he must stop this pleasant occupation of writing to her and get on with the dreary pastime of living. He’ll try to write some more tonight. (Which he did.)

The day apparently did nothing to improve Dart’s opinion of his new digs. In spite of the sunshine to replace yesterday’s rain, he’s still looking forward to getting out of this place. He says chow was tolerable, except for breakfast, which smelled like his basement before the kittens had been housebroken.  Eeew!

He’s heard that the mail gets fouled up a lot around here. Right now he’s hungry. The barracks are cold, buggy and drafty. They have to walk 50 feet outside to wash, shave, etc. “Oh heck. Too much not nice, so I’ll quit until I can write a civil letter. Things have come to a pretty pass when a guy can’t even say something nice to his sweetheart. I love you very much and wish you and your letters were here. Their presence (yours and your letters) make life bearable.”

Dot, too, wrote two letters today. The first was a quick morning note informing Dart that she has a second opinion from another doctor about the state of her health. The gist of it is that she needs to get more exercise. She’s making plans to go bowling once a week and must warn him that she plans to beat him the next time she sees him. (I think she means at bowling.) Dot is relieved, and knew that Dart would be too. I was surprised to hear that the second doctor was a woman.

In the second letter, she writes that she’s happy to learn Dart’s train trip wasn’t too uncomfortable and that he was able to get a seat. She hopes he thinks their time together was worth the trouble of the trip.

She graciously grants him permission to put ice down her back anytime…if he can catch her. She doesn’t run very fast, unless being chased by a bull… or a sailor with ice.

The plans she’d made to go bowling with El tonight were thwarted by the over-crowded lanes. She guesses they’ll try again on Sunday afternoon, because a gal  must get her exercise.

She takes a serious tone as she asks once again to give her some ideas about his Christmas wishes. And he shouldn’t even think about giving her some answer like “a leave,” which is entirely beyond her power to get him.

The pictures they took didn’t turn out as well as she’d hoped, but she loves the one of him grinning like a Cheshire cat. If he wants any of the enclosed snapshots enlarged, his wish is her command.

She asks if Shoemaker has him peeling spuds yet. She thinks they’ll make him into a passable wife before too long.

Her sign-off tonight is “Yours ’til Franklin Simon pays a decent salary. Which means, dear, you’re stuck with me forever!”