The opening paragraph of Dart’s letter might well be the most disparaging reaction to Christmas in history. He hurts, he’s tired, and his spirits are “as low as a patrolman’s arches.” He’s glad Dot can’t see him when he’s like this or she would never consent to become engaged when the war is over. He cannot wait to get out of Shoemaker.
The whole camp slept through breakfast chow, and having missed dinner last night, that set Dart off on the wrong foot. Then he got called to a work party where he and three other guys did 90% of the work and the other 12 just goofed off. After slaving for hours cleaning the huge patio area of the Hostess House he stood in the chow line for two hours for a mediocre meal. Then he got pulled into another work detail at the warehouse, moving baggage and sweeping out the whole place. Although they had to unload trucks filled with heavy sea bags, they were not permitted to use the warehouse dollies which were on reserve in case an officer happened to show up and wanted to move his bags. “How any officer can know about stuff like that and then look his men in the face and be an ‘example’ to them is beyond me.”
He hurried to the Western Union office to try to send telegrams to Dot and his mother, letting them know that he wasn’t shipping out tomorrow, but he got to the office one minute after it closed. When he plead his case to the guard in the office, who reamed him out for wearing dungarees (the uniform of the day, by the way) in a restricted area, the guard told him to go cry on the chaplain’s shoulder.
During it all, he missed two mail calls at which he had letters waiting for him. He could have especially used letters on this worst Christmas Day of his life.
Sometimes it just isn’t fun being in the Navy.
He sent her a new address for when he’s shipped out – now scheduled for Dec. 29. He warns her that after he leaves Shoemaker, his movements must be cloaked in secrecy and his regular letters will cease for awhile and will be subject to censorship when they resume. Censors won’t mess with letters from home, so she can continue to write anything she wants, but he will need to learn how to write for a “different audience.”
Having vented and brought her up to date on his moving plans, Dart turns to answering Dot’s most recent letters. He’s glad El is thrilled with her engagement ring. How he looks forward to putting a ring on Dot’s finger! This war can’t end soon enough to suit him. He hopes she survived the grueling retail rush and that by now she has received the three gifts he sent her.
He sure would like to be there to see that snowfall in Greenwich. Snow is lovely in Cleveland, but in a town as pretty as Greenwich, it must be the “nearest thing to Heavenly.”
He wants to remind his parents that he still remembers them, so he thinks he needs to quit now and write them a letter. He draws a triumphant sailor, with arms stretched up over his head. He tells he that’s him, feeling much better since “talking” to her for awhile.
If Dart’s letter was the gloomiest in the annuls of written language, Dot’s may be the most effusive and enthusiastic. She loves the beautiful stationery he sent. She adores the album of Bing Crosby records. (Those old 78 rpm records held so few songs that albums were actually sets of several records, weighing several pounds.) The picture he sent of himself is the best she’s ever seen and she loves him and the gifts more than she can say. “Oh Dart,” she exclaims, “I love them all so much, and you so much, and everyone and everything so much, I’m ‘fraid I’ll burst.”
She uses a couple of pages describing her Christmas loot. A luxurious light green puff (comforter?) so soft it nearly puts her to sleep just looking at it; several records; multiple boxes of stationery, including some from Chris and Eric who told her it was “just for Dart;” clothing, picture frame, “sweet potato;” violin bow, books; slippers; and a very nice phone chat with his mother.
Her father made her cry when they presented El with a beautiful handcrafted, cedar-lined walnut hope chest. He put his arm around Dot and said “We wanted to make one for you too, Sis, but we couldn’t get enough of the right kind of wood. We’ll get it finished for you soon enough.” She was so touched that he thought of making one for her. And what a beautiful piece it turned out to be. It still holds a prominent place in her bedroom.
Later came the Christmas feast with Harriet, George and Toni Gale in attendance. The menu was as long as Dot’s Christmas gift list. After dinner, she went to the Pecsok’s house to give the kids their gifts and Mr. Pecsok gave her something for Dart that she’ll send right along to him.
She took Dart’s new portrait with her everywhere she went and everyone agreed it was a great one. Her Uncle Ralph, the great kidder, kept stealing the picture and hiding it. She had to run all over the house looking for it. Another trick her family played on her was to hide all the packages that came from Dart when they arrived, so she wouldn’t know they’d come. At five past midnight, they let her open one package from Dart – the photograph. From then on, she says she didn’t care if she got anything else. Her Christmas would have been complete with just that.
Her day wrapped up at Janie’s house, singing Christmas carols. She wanted Dart to know that the whole crowd drank a toast to him at dinner, so he certainly was not forgotten. Dot’s fervent prayer is that he will be able to join them for Christmas 1945.
