All posts by Susan

October 17, 1944

Dart’s letter tonight is a sort of mixed bag of chitchat and news. He’ll leave on Tuesday for several days of antiaircraft gunnery practice, so there will be a dry spell  of letters from him.

He wants Dot to face the fact that the chance of a leave is looking bleak. The guys in Class 1 just received their orders, giving most of them five days leave before reporting for duty. Since the majority had to report to either Seattle or San Pedro, one of those days would be spent in travel. There was one individual who was ordered to duty immediately. He fears his class will receive similar instructions. If Dart would get five days, there’s no way he could make it home. His parents can’t afford a trip to California, and for Dot to come unaccompanied is unthinkable.

There is the inevitable discussion of test scores. He did miserably on one of his tests, but so did the rest of the class, so all grades were raised. He came away with an mediocre 73%. On another test, he tied for second place with a 91.  Now he just has one or two recognition tests and the big 250-question final exam.

He has begun hands-on drills in the use of battle telephones and a review of all the course material in prep for the big test. He’s alarmed by how much he’s forgotten over the past three months. He tells Dot he’s getting a great deal of pleasure out of doing so well in math after being such a dolt in the subject all his life. He launches a minor dissertation on his belief that high school and college education does not stress enough the value of complete and accurate expression. He shows signs even at this young age of his life-long passion for language and the power it brings to the gifted user.

Changing to a lighter topic, he tells Dot that he was selected to represent his class at the grand opening of the Hostess House on Treasure Island. It was a very pleasant affair, complete with tours of the gracious house and gardens, and a bountiful supply of refreshments. I think he got the biggest thrill out of seeing Wave officers serving food to lowly enlisted men like himself. With all the details he reports on the facility, he failed to mention why the Navy was dedicating such a place when they are in the process of dismantling operations on Treasure Island. Curious business.

He’s happy to hear Dot had such a good time in New York last week, but he asks if she couldn’t have thought of a less boring topic of conversation than himself.

Off he goes to write his folks a letter, and then to dream of the best girl in the world.

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October 18, 1944

Dart has nothing good to say about Point Montara Anti Aircraft Training Center, where he will spend the next four days on gunnery practice.

He uses words like “colorless,” “gloomy,” “dreary,” and “a hole” to describe the disagreeable surroundings. It’s a gray, foggy day with a damp chill that eats its way into his bones. The fog is so thick that the plane can’t even tow the target, so there’s nothing to do but wait for the air to clear. There are no decent showers, the chow is lousy, and he cannot send or receive mail while he’s here. The bleakness is accentuated by the blast of a foghorn every 45 seconds, round the clock. In a sort of silent protest, he intends to forego shaving until he returns to Treasure Island.

He writes his fervent hope that she will never have to stay at a place like this.

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October 19, 1944

Dot begins by saying that if the letter Dart wrote and never mailed said what she thinks it did, she wouldn’t blame him. She deserves anything he might say because her letter-writing has been horribly lax. She’s decided to quit the excuses about her busy schedule and write at least something to him every day.

She tells Dart that she received a wonderful letter from his mother yesterday, inviting her to stay with them during Dart’s leave. It nearly made Dot cry when she realized how slim the chances are that he’ll get any leave at all. She keeps telling herself not to count on it, but as long as there’s a sliver of a chance, she cannot give up hope. “If prayers, wishes and dreams have anything to do with it, you can consider yourself practically home.”

Referring to his comment that studying seems fruitless to him, she said that’s what she used to say about chemistry. Then she decided to commit to studying every day for a month, and her chem grade went from a C- to an A.

She kids him subtly about his detailed descriptions of the equipment he’s learning to use, calling him “Professor.” She doesn’t understand a thing he said, but she accepts the fact that these gadgets are good things to have on ships, and trusts he’ll manage to learn what he needs to know.

She’s very excited that Cynthia is coming home this weekend from Oberlin College in Ohio. They haven’t seen each other since Dart’s visit to Greenwich last summer. Cynthia writes that she has met a guy at school who’s 6′ 5″. Dot thinks they must make quite a sight, since Cynthia is a mere 5′ 4″.

Dot has begun her Christmas shopping, not to avoid the rush, but to stretch it out so her bank account won’t take too big a hit all at once. Besides, she loves to shop for the holiday, so starting early lets her enjoy it longer.

Back to the hottest topic on her mind, she wonders why the Navy couldn’t give Dart more than a day’s notice if he gets a leave. She would give anything to be at the East Cleveland station to see him jump off that train! When she told the girls at work that he probably wouldn’t get to come home, they were so disappointed. She truly appreciates their support as they celebrate her joys and share her miseries.

It’s cold tonight in her little apartment at the Miller’s house. She knows that if he were with her, the warmth in her heart would radiate throughout the room and keep her toasty, even at thirty degrees below zero.

She closes with “I love you very much, Dart. Please don’t for a second question it!”

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October 20, 1944

Although she doesn’t mention it in her letter, today is the first anniversary of Dart’s first letter to her. How far these kids have come in 365 days!

She has time for just a brief note, but vows to write a longer one tomorrow because she’ll have the following day off work. She begins by answering his question about a record player; she has a Victrola at her disposal in her apartment at the Miller’s house. She’s curious why he asks.

She thanks Dart for the airmail stamps he sent her in a recent letter. He’d noticed that she was plastering numerous odd stamps all over the envelopes of her letters, so he sent these to make her life easier. He, of course, can send his mail with no postage – a welcome perk for fighting for his country.

Dot comments that the letter she got today sounded as though he’s more optimistic about his leave. When his hopes rise, so do hers. She can’t promise, as he requested, that she won’t cry when it’s time to leave each other at the end of their visit (if it happens). All she can say is that she’ll try very hard not to. I don’t see how either of them will be able to have that last kiss without completely falling apart. Everything that comes after that is uncertain, at best, and potentially terrifying. Heck, I get misty-eyed 70 years after the fact and I know the outcome!

She tells Dart to think of her as he’s working his way through the pile of unanswered letters to his friends and family, because she’ll be doing the same thing. She has neglected her correspondence shamefully.

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October 21, 1944

Dot’s amazed that another work week has flown by, but if it gets her closer to seeing Dart, she’s all for it.

Next week at Franklin Simon will be a busy one. They’ve decided to open up the third floor of the store for the Christmas season, putting the children’s department there. That means the entire store has to be re-set. Dot will be moving inventory all over the first floor for most of the week. “It looks simple compared to those fire control problems you write about, but it takes much too much physical exertion to suit me. ”

Naturally, talk turns to the hoped-for leave. Should she take the Monday night train, arriving in Cleveland early Tuesday morning? She can’t see herself following his advice to sleep on the train  because she’ll be thinking too much of him. She promises him, however, that she’ll sleep no more than he does when they’re together.

She tells him about a beautiful dream she’d had recently. She was near a lovely big house out in the country. She was picking flowers, when who should ride up the road on a bicycle, but Dart! She grabbed her bike and they went fishing. (That proves it was a dream, because Dart never went fishing in his life!) They had a wonderful time and it felt so good being together again. Maybe it’s dreams like that one that allow loved ones to endure the pain of separation over long periods. Isn’t the subconscious mind a handy thing?

She comments that whenever she thinks she’ll write a long letter, she begins to run out of words after two or three pages. “The fact that I don’t have any machines to describe to you probably has something to do with it.”

She squeezes out a few more lines with trivial matters like her plans to go to church with her mother tomorrow, and a date with El and Betty B to see Janie tomorrow night.  She’s eagerly awaiting Cynthia’s arrival. C. told Dot she wants to hear all about Dart. “She evidently has no idea how long I can stay on that subject, but she’ll find out soon enough!”

Because she’s turning into an icicle, she’s going to climb under the covers to get warm, happy in the thought that she can sleep later than 6:30 in the morning. She wishes Dart goodnight and sends her love.

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October 22, 1944

Continuing with our recent pattern of only one letter a day, this is Dart’s turn to write – and it’s a long one.

He’s back now from Point Montara with a change of heart about the place. More on that later.

He and his classmates learned a great deal about gunnery during their four days of practice. “We got the color scared out of us when the big guns went off while we were in the magazine getting own ammunition. We bit off the tips of our hearts when one of the loaders dropped a live shell on the steel deck of the gun mount. We shot up several hundred dollars worth of antiaircraft ammunition. (So pay your taxes) We did night firing a couple of times and we unloaded a couple of truckloads of ammunition.”

Changing gears, he admits to being very worried about his dad. Pop works in a machine shop very near where a huge explosion happened in Cleveland. The building he’s in is a very old tumbledown place with a wooden roof and dubious brick walls.

He and his mates are happy to be clean once again. They returned to Treasure Island with four days of grit, grease, sweat and whiskers clinging to them like barnacles. Now, he’s clean, “from the skin out and the sox up.”

In a revised review of Point Montara, he says, “The point was a rather pretty place, and it seemed as though we were having a vacation while we were there. The huge swells of the Pacific boil among the rocks at the base of the 5-foot cliff on which is situated the firing line. Seals play on the rocks and in the water, completely oblivious to the heavy gunfire above them.”

He reports that it’s a thrilling experience to fire one of those guns. They each got multiple turns at the various positions needed to fire their gun. The target was usually a kite, pulled at the end of a long line attached to a Navy dive bomber. When thick fog reduced visibility of the kite, they used large red balloons that floated past the firing line.

He describes the sensations of being so near the large guns when they’re fired. “The five-inchers make a heavy roar, and you feel as if you’d been jostled in a crowded bus. A sudden wave of pressure ruffles your clothing and makes it seem as if your eyeballs are trying to push your earplugs out from inside.”

Back at Treasure Island, big things are afoot. The Shore Patrol is cracking down on the slightest infraction of the rules. Guys are being thrown into the brig for such “crimes” as walking down the street with an arm around their wife, wearing their hats too far back on their heads (known as “salty hats”), for wearing a pea coat unbuttoned, for the use of even the mildest profanity or for being slightly drunk.

He closes in a hurry to make the mail pick-up. He knows he and Dot will be terribly disappointed if his leave doesn’t come through, but he reminds her to remember what happened when he was in the hospital, one signature and mere hours away from a leave.

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October 23, 1944

Dot hopes this  little letter reaches Treasure Island in time to wish Dart well on his final exams. I’ve been thinking he may do better on those tests than he’d thought because of all the hands-on experience at Point Montara.

She has just received Dart’s letter telling her that he won’t be able to send any mail from his gunnery practice. She’s not sure how she’ll survive four days without hearing from him, but she’ll try.

She’s a little nervous with all Dart’s talk about the importance of English. She claims to be a poor student of that subject; she can never figure out where to place commas and she says she’s the world’s second worst speller. To prove her point, she asks him to bear with her until she gets her “deploma.”

The Hostess House dedication sounded lovely, as did the female officers who were serving refreshments. In case he was trying to make her jealous by mentioning them, Dot feels compelled to tell him that she was invited to a dance last week, but turned the boy down.

Dot’s big news is that she has told Mrs. Miller she’ll  be moving home on November 1, so Dart can begin sending his letters to the Mason Street address. She must feel relieved at the prospect of working only one job soon.

Dot’s friend Cynthia and Dart’s cousin Margaret, both piano students at Oberlin College, have finally met each other in Ohio. Small world.

The toothpicks Dot’s using to keep her eyelids propped up have failed to do their job, so she must bid Dart good-night. There are no letters written on October 24, so I’ll be back in a couple of days.

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October 25, 1944

Dart’s letter today is short, and not too sweet. He has a headache and is hungry. He says he’s written no letters this week in a kind of mourning over the grade he’s sure he’ll get on the final exam. The entire class dreads the test, which can be sprung on them any time now. To top it all off, he’s worried about his family – so worried he sent them a telegram. He hasn’t heard from them since the big explosion a few days ago.

A bright spot in his life was mail call when he returned from Point Montara; four letters from Dot, two from his folks, and four from various other folks. Of course, he’ll answer Dot’s first. He likes her plan of taking the Monday train, arriving in Cleveland about the same time as he would on Tuesday morning. (If…) His mother has promised to have spaghetti for Dot, but the only enticement Dart needs is to be with his family and his girl.

Her description of rearranging the stock at work reminded him of his days as a stock boy at the Pick and Pay Food Mart. Saturday mornings were hard labor for the stock boys – far to much physical exertion to suit Dart.

He tells her he has done his cramming for the final by cramming all his books into his locker. He’s very afraid of this exam and sees no hope in more studying.

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October 27, 1944

Dot begins by wishing the Navy a happy 170th birthday. She declares that it has done a great job showing it has what it takes. Now, all it needs to do to prove how perfect it is would be to give Dart that leave!

She returned to work but was able to last only about two hours. She’s not sure what’s wrong with her, but the doctor wants to do a thorough exam and X-ray tomorrow to get to the bottom of it.

From Dart’s initial description, Dot has concluded that Point Montara doesn’t sound like the kind of place she’d want to be stuck in for life, but it seems ideal for antiaircraft practice. That sounds like “damnation by faint praise.”

She and El just finished doing the supper dishes. (Does anyone use the word “supper” anymore?) To pass the time, they sang duets until her dad joined them and created a trio. She says her father has a swell voice, but rarely sings. “We had loads of fun, and if I do say so, it didn’t sound half bad.”

She tells Dart she doesn’t care how many sailors get thrown into the brig, as long as he isn’t one of them. She doubts that would ever happen. “You always seem to know the right thing to do at the right time. That’s something which, if I’m with you long enough, I would like to acquire.”

Has she told Dart that her sister-in-law, Betty B has moved into the Chamberlain house? Actually, she’s been there for weeks, but Dot neglected to say anything to him. She’s lived with her mother her entire life, and now that she’s a married woman, she thought it best if she learned to live elsewhere.

This evening, El and Betty were in the living room talking about their men. Dot got so tired of them ignoring her in the conversation that she sprang up and began to pace the room, loudly proclaiming Dart’s many virtues. When she had finished her rant, Betty said to El, “Well, I guess our kid sister is really in love!” So, Dot is happy to say that if she accomplished nothing else today, she managed to convince them how she feels about Dart.

She closes so that she can get some sleep and be in good shape for her physical tomorrow. She apologizes for the sloppiness of her letter, but she had to make lots of corrections for the “Professor.”

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October 28, 1944

In an effort to use up his supply of Treasure Island stationery, Dart settles down during his midnight watch to write a long letter. He has admittedly neglected Dot in the past several days, and his parents even more so, but he’s determined to answer Dot’s six recent letters before he’s through tonight.

Jumping straight to talk of his leave, he tells her that if she gets off at the East Cleveland stop, she’ll be just a few blocks from the Peterson home. His parents want to meet her at the train.

He observes that there’s a nearly full moon out tonight, meaning they will have a third quarter moon to gaze at together if he gets home. He figures that’s enough to sit and dream under. He fervently hopes that they are not tongue-tied with each other during this go round, like they both regret being during his previous leave.

Claiming to have something burning the tip of his pen, begging to be written, he announces that the class has received their final exam grades, complete with a numeric analysis of their entire course work. I’ll cut to the chase and tell you that Dart scored second highest on the exam and sceond place in the class overall. He finished with an average grade of 91.3%. Think how much stomach acid he burned needlessly, stewing about that final exam!

They are still experiencing an extreme water shortage on the island, so he can only wash (self and clothes) for one hour each day. Swimming is out, too. I wonder if he ever passed that test.

He’s looking at the letter she wrote from her cold apartment at the Miller’s house and got to daydreaming about being with her in front of a cozy fire, their arms around each other. That thought warms him as much as when he thinks about her warm, radiant personality. How sweet.

He continues later the same day, after inspection. Without swimming, showering or laundry, there’s nothing going on today. That makes him sleepy, but he wants to finish the letter.

He is mildly alarmed about her illness that her mother wrote to him about. He insists she get and stay healthy. Nothing must get in the way of her traveling to Cleveland if that leave comes through. With that, he tells her that each passing day either brings them closer to being together or closer to staying so far apart for many more months.

He warns her not to expect much in the way of letters during his final days at Treasure Island. There’s so much to do before departing this place, including laundry, mending, sewing his seaman first class stripes on his uniform, scrubbing his seabag, shining shoes, pressing pants, stenciling clothes, packing and sending stuff home.

He supports her decision to leave the Miller’s house because he fears she was becoming sleep deprived.

This week, the class had “strength testing,” a fine Navy tradition of proving physical prowess in all things. He doubled his rating from last time, which isn’t saying much because his last rating was pitiful. Maybe several months out of the hospital is having a positive effect on his strength and endurance.

The dream Dot mentioned sounds nice to him. He asks if she likes fishing. He’s only been once, with his dad when he was a small boy. He didn’t much care for it then, but now that he’s lazier, he can see the merits of sitting and doing nothing. He’d like to try it (fishing)sometime with Dot.

He assures her that the reason her letters are shorter than his is that she says more with fewer words. He became accustomed to verbosity and redundant writing when he was trying to fill all the pages of his junior high newspaper. That skill seemed to stand him in good form when writing high school and college essays, so now it’s become a habit.

As for their discussion of English proficiency, he declares her far from the world’s worst speller, quite sufficient in her use of commas, above reproach in her grammar and always able to use the right words in the right places. In short, she has nothing to worry about.

He’s run out of ways to say sweet things about how much he loves her, but he’d welcome the opportunity to discuss that with her in about a week and a half.

He fills the last page with a humorous sketch of skinny Pete, sawing logs on the top tier of his three-layer bunk. He’s captured his large feet and the tiny lump his spare frame makes under the blanket.

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Dot writes the bad news that she must have surgery. The doctor’s not sure what he’ll find in addition to a bad appendix , but he thinks it’s something more. She doesn’t know if she’s more mad or scared, but she knows she’s plenty of both. If she ends up going to Ohio for Dart’s leave next week, the surgery will be done after that. If he doesn’t get leave, she’ll probably have the operation then.

Declaring that’s enough about her troubles, she decides they should talk about the biggest issue at hand. Will he still use the “yea” or “nay” telegram to tell her whether or not the leave was granted? Does he know yet which day he might be able to leave? Does he realize that he’s bad for her sleep? Last night she lay awake over two hours, making mental notes of all the things she wants to tell him, if she sees him. She vows she won’t be stuck in a daze this time like she was in July, barely able to speak.

She swears she wouldn’t care if his mother served dead leaves for dinner, as long as he was right there, eating them with her. She does, however, love spaghetti!

She hopes that by now he’s heard that everyone in his family is okay. And she recalls for Dart that about one year ago tonight, they were parked in a car in front of Betty Wolf’s house. Dart was sitting and Dot was doing all the talking. I sure hope she can find her voice if she sees him next week in Cleveland!

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