Here’s another letter started in class. (You can tell by the pencil and lined notebook paper.) Some of the guys are having an argument over some inane trivia having to do with electricity. He had to pause when the instructor started the film on synchronous systems. I know, this is pretty gripping stuff.

He resumes later, after mail call when he received two letters from Dot, plus five others. There’s a detailed discussion about how much information she needs to include in his address. His serial number is not necessary because there are no longer two D. G. Petersons in his unit.

He is most enthusiastic about the care package she sent him. That leads me to wonder if they were called “care” packages then. I think I recall first hearing that term in the 1960s when there was some international relief organization with the acronym C.A.R.E. that sent packages to underdeveloped communities overseas. Anyway, he was delighted with the candy, the book and the nice stationery she sent him because shopping in his base store is difficult due to his schedule.

Dart says he’s falling way behind on his correspondence. He can count at least 10 letters that he owes people today. He told Dot of mailing a letter for his classmate today that was addressed to Mrs. Dorothy Peterson and he was caught up a little short. “Forgot for a minute that it’s his wife and not my cousin’s (or my dream).” Looks like Mrs. Dorothy Peterson was becoming a very common name.

He closes with the suggestion that she find a NYC telephone directory. If she imagines that every listing said “I love you” instead of a name, that would give some indication about how much he does (love her).

His P.S. said “It’s morale that you’re good for.” I’ve noticed that he has a habit of gently correcting Dot’s spelling errors by using the same word in his letters and underlining the correction. I guess that was an early warning sign that he would someday be a professional editor. I’d hate to see what he’d say about these hastily proofed posts of mine!

Dot writes this at the end of her three-day “vacation,” during which she worked her tail off. She tells Dart she received three letters from him yesterday. “It’s a mighty good thing you couldn’t see the color of my face when I read the first one. It’s plain that we did not have the same thing in mind. I’m afraid I know what you thought I meant, but you’re wrong. That’s what I get for cutting in on other people’s wit. Better we should drop the subject before either of us interprets anything the wrong way.”

What?! Could this refer to that little diagram she drew that he might have assumed hinted at Dot dreaming about her name being “Peterson” and living in Ohio? I’m as confused as Dart must have been when he read this letter. I hope Mom will be able to shed a little light on all this, if she recalls the details after so long a time.

She appreciates the sketch Dart drew of the San Francisco streets to show how steep they are. She also assures him that if he needs to postpone writing to her in order to study, she’ll understand that he needs to keep his test average up.

She tells him that her brother also had to borrow money to pay for his technical school, only it was a much higher sum than Dart’s loan. After school, Gordon joined the Navy and got married and now he’s begun the process of paying back the loan.

She announces that today she must finish a dress she started in March for one of those leaves of Dart’s that never happened. She reports that her cold is better but her “taster” is on the blink.

Because neither Dot nor Dart wrote on August 9, 1944, I’ll pick up their story on the 10th.

And here’s a little note she inserted in the package Dart mentioned in today’s letter.

Dart’s letter reveals that he is really feeling a time crunch these days. With classes, calisthenics, and duty rosters, he and his classmates were already fairly busy. Now, Dart has the extra burden of daily swimming practice. Letter-writing and laundry duties are falling by the wayside.

He dreads the recognition test that he knows is coming. There’s an understanding among his group that the instructor doesn’t like these guys very much, so he appears to be making the tests as difficult as possible.

Dart’s pleased that the material in his electricity class has finally moved beyond the basics into things he’s not had before. Once again, he seems to thrive on new mental challenges. Part of the fire control system he’s learning involves gyroscopes, and he’s eager to learn how they work. He’s hoping that’ll give him something in common with Dot’s brother Gordon.

Changes are afoot at camp. His math and electricity classes are winding down and new subjects will be introduced in a couple of weeks. His group were all moved to different living quarters yesterday, an arrangement Dart doesn’t like as well, but seems to be adjusting to. A new class of fire controlmen is scheduled to start today – four weeks behind Dart’s class. Treasure Island is really cranking these boys through.

Well, this “letter” from Dot is really more like a label, but I’ll include it, nonetheless.

She has no news but didn’t want two days to pass with no mail from her. She offers her condolences on the loss of Dart’s friend to the war. She must go back to work, reluctantly. She still has her cold but it isn’t bad enough to warrant another day of leave.

She closes with a typical Dot quip. “Well, Chum, I must be off. (I certainly must be. They haven’t found any other excuse for my actions.)”

Dart’s first letter of the day is written just before sunrise, as some of his bunk mates are returning from liberty and he is already on duty. He says he’s received no letters in two days, but the package he got from Dot was greatly appreciated. He tells her he wishes he’d brought one of the candy bars it contained with him to his watch duty because he’ll miss chow this morning.

He’s impressed by the delicious menu at Gale’s birthday party. “Maybe you did gain back what a week’s work had removed, but you had fun, didn’t you?”

He asks her to give her mother his regards and tell he he has no idea who owes whom a letter. He accepts responsibility for the lapse, however, because he owes 10 or 15 people. He’s trying to get caught up with his correspondence, but not having much success. He also confirms that his mother received a nice letter from Dot recently.

“Dawn is just now breaking and Treasure Island’s crazy bird (the only one crazy enough to be here) is cheeping outside my window.”

He assures her that, contrary to her assertion, he can be good and still have some fun. Her reminds her to do the same.

He writes a second letter during math class as he waits for others to finish the test. It’s one of those wretched things on cheap yellowed paper, written in pencil. It’s very hard on the eyes. I doubt he had any inkling that this letter would be saved for posterity and that his poor daughter would have such a struggle to make out the faded words seven decades down the road.

He’s just completed his last Basic Electricity and Basic Math tests until the final exam in both which will come in week 14 or 15 of his training. He predicts that he got about an 85% on each of today’s tests.

He writes that from here, he’ll go to the projection room to watch the last of his daily indoctrination films that have been shown during his first month at Treasure Island. He is hoping he’ll be able to sneak out of that and into the 5:00 swimming class. If successful, he can get in his required 30 minutes of swim practice and then make it to the chow hall before dinner closes. (If unsuccessful, he’ll miss his second chow of the day.) Otherwise, he’ll have to dine at the Ship’s Service restaurant and pay a “fancy” price.

He spends the next page of this letter beating himself up about his swimming. First, he had three to five hours of swimming instruction every week at Case and he still can’t swim. But his real burden is that 17-foot jump from the platform into the pool. He berates himself for being unable to accomplish what even a child can do. He has managed to make the jump once, but since then, he has been mortified to have to climb back down the ladder after being unable to take the “quick way” off the platform. His humiliation runs deep. Here’s a guy who can accomplish most feats of cerebral prowess with ease, but the simple act of stepping off a board and letting gravity take over nearly brings him to a state of apoplexy.

He’s decided to stay “home” for liberty tonight and do some washing. He has a question for Dot, posed by one of his buddies, about why socks break after they’re washed. Maybe too much soap? Dart says his don’t break, but they crackle and rustle in his shoes for a few steps. I’m at the edge of my seat to find out if Dot has an answer to these mysterious occurrences.

He describes the scene outside his classroom window. He can see the San Francisco shoreline and skyline in the distance. Close to the edge of Treasure Island,  a couple of strong, thick-trunk palm trees are silhouetted against the luminous green water. It makes him wonder how tropical vegetation can survive on this wintry island where pea coats are required even in August if one is exposed to the wind for very long.

He signs off with the reminder that he loves her. Then he adds the joyous news that he has received a 100% on his electricity test!

After the eye strain caused by reading Dart’s last letter, I’m relieved that Dot’s letter is a brief, easy-to-read single page.

She begins with the probing question: Is it possible to be too hot to live? If so, she is near that point. To add to her anguish, her job today was sewing labels into fur coats! She says she is becoming a pool of melted butter and predicts that he will soon have fewer letters coming his way because she will have expired.

That’s all she has time for, but the heat is all anyone is talking about anyway. Oh, by the way, she loves him.

Hurried notes are becoming the norm for Dart. Although he has three unanswered letters from Dot, they’ll have to wait because time is short.

Yesterday he went to sick bay to get a spray for his sore throat and then went out on liberty. He went to the theater, took a streetcar ride and grabbed a waffle dinner. He hopes to get back to town on Thursday if his cold improves.

He scored a miserable 62% on his recent Recognition test. The whole class did so poorly that they were retested, without warning. This time he scored at 85%. His total in all of his subjects places him in the top three of his class, but he doesn’t expect to stay there. “Forgive me if I toot my horn. It’s music to my ears, regardless of how it may sound to others. I love you, even if this miserable mess doesn’t show it.”

Matching Dart in brevity, Dot suggests they agree to a standing forgiveness policy when one of them doesn’t write every day. That way, they won’t have to waste time and paper asking forgiveness for something they are both guilty of.

She has a hard time sympathizing with Dart’s struggles in the pool. Because it’s one of her favorite activities, she doesn’t understand how someone could not enjoy it. Still, she wishes him the best of luck in passing the required tests.

She deems them “quite a pair,” with all his washing and all her ironing. She would rather be washing, but since grass is always greener on the other side of the fence, she suspects that he thinks ironing is the better deal.

The fact that he’s been at the school for four weeks doesn’t seem real to her; it feels more like four months! As always, it’s late and she’s tired. Before turning in, she hears a news report that announces more hot and humid weather is on it’s way.

Dart says that the laments of Dot and his parents about the brutally hot weather garner little sympathy from him – only envy. He is so cold that he sleeps in his sweater! In August!

When comparing their summer colds, he thinks hers is milder and of shorter duration than his. He is armed with gargle and sprays, but they don’t seem to be having any  impact. Does anyone else get nervous when Dart mentions symptoms of illness? After all those months in the hospital, I think we’d all be justified to assume that he’s susceptible to all manner of bugs and germs.

Again he mentions his struggles with the Recognition class. He did okay on another test, but says the course work is particularly hard for a guy like him who has meticulously avoided anything to do with airplanes all his life. I guess there’s room in his heart for only one mode of transportation, and that would be trains, of course.

He includes a touching paragraph about his family holding out on him. He is aware of several of his friends who are “in the thick of it,” with a couple now either MIA or prisoners of war. His family doesn’t tell Dart the news and he hears it in more round-about ways. He’s frustrated that they aren’t being honest with him, but I see it in a different light. As a young man, he can’t comprehend how difficult it is for parents to imagine their beloved children going off to war. When they learn of the death of one of their son’s friends, I think those parents must die a little inside, themselves. It’s not just Dart his parents are trying to protect, but their own hearts as well. How does a parent live with that level of dread just under the surface of every thought for several years?

Dart speaks almost romantically of his close encounters with some of the sophisticated fire control equipment he has been exposed to recently when he sweeps, mops and polishes the control rooms. He’s in awe of the complexity of these machines. “I wish you could see some of the computers and stuff we work with. The most impressive and bewildering boxes of dials and knobs you’ve ever seen.”

He closes the letter to run a quick errand at the Ship’s Service.

Dot was forced to begin her letter later than she’d wanted because a huge storm had knocked out the electricity for about six hours.

She hopes he understands that she was kidding about his swimming. She reminds him that everyone has at least one thing that seems nearly impossible for them to achieve, and swimming just happens to be his. He shouldn’t take her teasing seriously.

Having never experienced socks that “broke” after washing, she has no idea what to tell his buddy, except maybe he should use “Rinso.” A harsher laundry soap would be murder on his hands.

She’s mightily impressed by his test scores. With accomplishments like that, who cares about the 17-foot diving platform?

She is none too happy about her mother and Doug leaving for Lake Sunapee in the morning. During the next three weeks, she’ll need to get up at 7:00 a.m., which she believes is unconstitutional. She doesn’t say why her days must begin so early, but I suspect it’s so she can do some cooking and cleaning before work while her mother is away. She’s hoping for a chance to ride up with her father over Labor Day to retrieve the pair, but she has her doubts that will happen.

Unable to ignore the weather, she comments that his reports of wearing pea coats almost makes her jealous. (See how the themes of their letters mirror each other?) Wouldn’t it be great, she asks, if somehow they could store up all this extra heat of summer and bring it out during the bitter days of winter? She decides to work on that problem in her laboratory.