Dart had a big day, but can’t really say much about what he did or why it was special. “These tin cans will really put up one whale of a fuss when everything’s shooting at once. Makes a lot of noise and smoke, too.” He does say they did some “snappy drills,” and above the date, he writes that they’re still in port.

He got a chance to shoot a little gun today. He hopes the real gunner keeps his post because Dart never hit the target all day.

This evening, the radio gave the crew the news that journalist Ernie Pyle had been killed in action, “somewhere.” Dart thinks it’s a terrible loss because nobody had Pyle’s knack of reporting about the war with heart and compassion. He had a way of making everyone feel they’d known him for a long time. “Wish I had 1/4 the ability he had.”

The laundry is back up and running again, so the abbreviated “water hours” are over. He has lost a pair of new dungarees (Worn only once, for several days) and several pairs of new socks. He didn’t get to the laundry soon enough after they were cleaned and someone else walked off with them. “Maybe I’ll see some guy with ‘Peterson, DG, stenciled in green paint across the fantail of his dungarees and I’ll be able to reclaim them.”

He’s discovered that his locker will hold everything he owns, but he must put all 160 of his pounds against it to do so. Yes, he said 160. At a height of about 6’ 1”, he’s finally worked his way from emaciated to just plain skinny. Of course that 160 pounds includes his shoes, clothing and a wet towel!

He thanks Dot for sending the petals from the Easter corsage he sent to her. “American Beauties for a real American Beauty, eh? And don’t deny it! I know you are. I’ve seen you enough times to know it.”

He appreciates her happy Easter wishes, but he was having as happy an Easter as he could, and much better than some people he could think of. The only way his holiday could have been better was if he attended church with the Chamberlains in Greenwich or Dot attended with him and his family in East Cleveland. The weather Dot described that day was just the same as what he was experiencing, except his day was 35 degrees hotter than Greenwich!

He’ll see what he can do about getting someone to write to Nancy. Several guys he knows have been jilted while “out there,” and have sworn off any and all women except their mothers and sisters. All others are viewed as dangerous ogres.

He tells her he wants to spend the rest of his life proving how deeply and tenderly one person can love another. His parents have been doing it for 24 years, 11 months and 5 days. “We can do it too, I’m sure. But, Darling, that ‘if’ is so big, and getting bigger.” The “if” that he refers to with some frequency is what Dot has refused to let him mention – if he makes it home safe and sound.

Here’s another cute letter written while Dot is at work. Mr. Goldstein wants to see Dot do some work, but what’s the point if no customers come in to see that it’s been done? “Lazy? You bet, but it’s so much fun to be lazy.”

Today she waited on Dart’s double. Well, not exactly his double, but she was tall and thin with dark hair and brown eyes like his. She’s every sales clerk’s dream because she’s patient, pleasant, and never complains. “See, her personality resembles yours, too.”

This morning, she wandered down to the children’s department to see what the girls there were talking about. Just as she thought;     M-E-N. “We have to talk about them all the time to keep in mind what they are.” It seems to be an almost unanimous opinion that if anything in trousers asked you to marry him, you’d jump at the chance. Dot keeps it from being unanimous. “Of course my ideas are subject to change if the right man comes along, but he’s so far away now that I guess I won’t worry too much about it.”

In helping her try to think of things to fill up this letter, Mr. Goldstein suggested that she tell Dart he just got his car out of hock. “He speaks of it as a ‘neat little job,’ but since it’s a 1928 model, I’m not sure what kind of job it really is. Guess now-a-days, anything with four (threadbare) tires, a motor and a reasonable facsimile of gas is considered a luxury vehicle.”

Now that her letter to him is done, she can spend the evening writing to his parents.