Dart’s letter is so sweet and romantic that I will  quote sections of it here, just as he wrote it.

“Know what we were doing two years ago tonight? That’s right — we were having our second date, our third meeting. We were getting acquainted in the front seat of our car while Johnny and Betty were sighing silently (must look into that — how does one sigh silently?) in the back seat. I kissed you for the first time. We saw “Phantom of the Opera”, and then we drove to Howard Johnson on the west side for our snack. You thought you were murdering the car when you learned to shift gears for me. The car got back at us a couple of times, though. I hope it’s gotten over that. Just think, Dot, if we’d been married that night, when I had the first sure feeling that I’d already fallen deeply in love with you, I’d have almost enough points for discharge by now! But we’d not really have been married. People aren’t really married until after they’ve lived together long enough to know each other and to get along well together. The experiences I’ve had since that night certainly wouldn’t have permitted us to do much toward cementing our marriage at that time.”

“However, as you say in your letter of Oct. 23, the time since then has done much to cement our marriage when we finally are able to go ahead with the ultimate desire of our young lives.”

At her urging, he confirms that Sunapee is the ideal place for them to celebrate their newly minted marriage when that auspicious day comes. Have seen the whole of this beautiful lake, he’s decided he likes the view from the Chamberlain’s place better than the one from Hal Martin’s lodge on the other side of the lake.

“Don’t be blue when I must be shipped out, Darling. I know you will, and so will I, but we must never let our low spirits lower our faith. …But, hey! Why be blue? The war’s over!”

He told of the only guy he’s met who has been overjoyed by his new transfer orders. That is a fellow train nut who was sent to the Naval Operating Base to run a diesel switching locomotive. How Dart wishes he could be so lucky!

Now he must wrap up the letter in time for it to go out for mail call. “Goodnight, my Darling. You’re the finest sweetheart a guy could ever have. …Wish I could whisper some things to you.”

He adds a P.S. to explain the clipping he’s enclosed — a poem he found that reminds him of how he felt when he was driving around New England a few days ago without her. Then a P.P.S. tells her that her Sunday letter was one he’ll always keep. Happily for me, all of her letters (and his) were keepers!

Since there’s no letter from Dot today, I’ll use the space to type the poem from the Saturday Evening Post.

Why Should There Be Autumn Days? by Helen Mitchell

Why should there be autumn days of gold, and bronze, and purple haze,

With skies a well of gentian-blue, since I am far away from you?

Why should distant pathways call to hills I know, that gayly sprawl

Beneath the autumn’s rich debis, with you so far away from me?

Why should early dawn conspire to wake again my heart’s desire,

With glinting dew from misty skies when far from mine your pathway lies?

Why should nighttime be a dream with drifting moon…with stars that gleam,

To wind itself around my heart when you and I are so apart?