Dart is at the USO again tonight, where he came to call Dot. What a glorious (and fast) five minutes that phone call was! It seemed wonderfully strange to be able to call her the night before sailing – or even mention a sailing date at all. “The best thing of all, though, is that no nosy censor will be there to cramp my style. Maybe the censors didn’t cramp my style very much, but it sure seemed like it to me. Every time I wanted to write something, I’d think of some old gold-braided goof who’d do one of three things: he’d scoff and say I was full of something; he’d ‘read a good one’ to his wardroom buddies; or he’d make a mental note to make the same approach to his wife or maybe to some girl he was currently on the make for. After thinking all that, I’d usually write something like my original idea anyway.”
There’s a dance going on upstairs and it’s shaking the whole building. He says there are “lots of distractions walking around on high heels.” Then he adds that someday he and Dot will have their day – a chance to show other people how they can dance. He only hopes no one looks at them too closely.
The ship is showing signs of pre-cruise life, making everyone on the crew sad. He must be getting used to hopelessness because the Craig looks a little less hopeless to him now, but he says any and all opinions on that topic are subject to change.
His mom’s letter today gave news that Homer Singer’s division is all back in the States now. Dart hopes that means Homer is, too. “Seems like all the boys have scattered. I hear occasionally from Forbush, but of the others, Follett is dead; McCarthy’s married, expecting, and a ‘regular’ Army man, Fred doesn’t write letters anymore, and in general all my correspondence has petered out to the ones I write to you and our immediate families. I hope to hear from Fred again, when he’s released from his ‘oppression.’ I wish there were something that could be done to relieve him of his mental strain, but he’s far from being the type of person who would stay satisfied long.”
He mentions that Blevins and Kanter each whipped him in games of checkers and chess, respectively. He says he hopes he won’t pick up any bad habits of pinochle, chess, or other sorts of games when there are so many more interesting things to waste one’s time on. (He never developed an interest in games of any kind, except for an occasional game of Scrabble.)
He’s a little anxious to read Ruth Chamberlain’s response to the question of Dot and Dart getting married sooner than planned. Now that Dot has sent her letter to him, he expects it could be a couple of weeks before he sees it, unless it arrives before he departs.
He just learned that a girl at the dance upstairs fell and broke her arm, leading him to suggest that he and Dot stick with the waltz.
He likes the line Dot wrote about being curled up on his bed. It sounds so nice and cozy. He likes to see her curled up and sleeping on the davenport where she looks as sweet and peaceful as a little girl.
He ends this long letter with a tender goodnight. “Time for us to leave each other again, but just for a little while. It’s been nice being with you tonight and all the nights since I met you. I keep wishing and half-expecting to meet you at every turn of my walks, in every store front. I love you forever.”
# # #
It’s a lonely and blue co-ed who writes tonight, begging Dart to keep those long, thick letters coming as often as possible. She has a headache and she feels terrible – perhaps from a lack of sleep. Her English class doesn’t help much, either. She got her first theme back today and was disheartened to receive a C+.
The Marines have landed to put one girl’s heart right. That is, one Marine in the form of “Tip,” and the heart he has set right is Ellie’s. Although she only met him last night, she believes she’s in love. Until her blind date yesterday, she’d never been kissed and now she’s caught up with Dot and Dart! If they thought they were slow, they need to adjust their thinking to “prehistoric!” Dot hopes Tip isn’t just handing Ellie a line, but he seems quite nice and at 24, he ought to know what he’s doing. Anyway, the house got what they’d been working toward – a date for Ellie to Friday’s dance.
She’d intended to see “The Story of GI Joe” when it was in town, but missed the chance. Then she was warned by others not to see it, being the “emotionally unstable” person that she is. She doubts she’d cry for days, but thinks it’s best she avoid it, all the same.
Regarding his recent doctor visit when he was deemed “undernourished,” she remarks that it wouldn’t take a doctor to see that! Perhaps he’s eating too much junk and not enough good food. She chides him to take good care of himself and eat a more healthy diet because that’s her future husband he’s got there and she wants her husband to be healthy.
She fears he was premature in his prediction that she would do well in physical science this term. She had the same delusion the first day, but now she’s lost. She doesn’t know an erg, joule or dyne from a hole in the ground. She so very much wanted to raise her grades, but feels like such a moron that she doesn’t see how that’s possible.
“You are a stinkier for telling your mom what I said about going to bed. But don’t think I won’t get back at you some day, you dear boy. Your mom entertains me with tales about you when I go there for the weekend, and although I won’t divulge the information now, I can use it for blackmail at a later date. So there!”
Suddenly, she’s feeling better. She was so thrilled to hear his voice so clearly. The phone was so clear she could almost see his expressions. Was he proud that she barely cried at all? Actually, as soon as she hung up, the dam burst, and she blubbered like a baby. She doesn’t know why because she knew that call was coming, and the chance to hear his voice is worth almost anything. She only hopes the next three months fly by and that there will not be too many more full moons like tonight’s that will go to waste.