Category Archives: 16. January 1945

January 1, 1945

16. January 1945, Dart's Letters, Dot's Letters

Dart’s letter reads a little like last-minute instructions before leaving on a trip; I guess that’s exactly what it is. After noon chow tomorrow, he’ll be boarding a ferry that will take him to the troop transfer ship. The good news is that he will probably be a “passenger” on a brand new transport vessel. It’ll be squeaky clean, with great dining and laundry facilities and handy storage to keep his belongings with him.

He gives Dot another new address to use until he gets his ship assignment. He advises that she be prepared to write quickly when these last couple of letters arrive in Greenwich if her letters are to reach him in a reasonable time frame. Already it’s been three days since he’s received any mail and even longer since hearing from Dot. It feels more like a millennium to him.

He’ll not be allowed to mention the name of his ship in the letters, or even what type of ship he’s on. However the name will be in his mailing address and the type of ship will be encoded in initials in the same place. Dot can get a little booklet at the dime store to look up what the initials represent. He’ll try to put stamps upside down to signal “I love you,” and he’ll talk about Tonsilectomy if he can get it by the censors, but he’ll no longer be allowed to put any coded messages inside the envelopes.

He’s decided to forego any mention of how much he loves her and misses her because it might make him sound homesick and full of longing. “I am, but why make the letter sound like it?”

010145a010145b

Dot’s first letter of the year is a rushed little note saying she has no time to write, but wants to wish him a happy new year. She’ll try to write him a longer letter tomorrow to bring him up to date on how her holiday weekend has been going. Until then, she sends wishes that 1945 will be the best year of his life – so far.

010145ad

January 2, 1945

16. January 1945, Dot's Letters

In her usual chipper, playful style, Dot describes for Dart her New Year’s activities. On the 31st, she and her pal Nancy babysat for Chris and Eric Miller. After the boys were in bed, the girls listened to their records on the Miller’s “automatic Victrola,” feasted on ice cream, Cokes, and potato chips, talked about Dart, and danced. Dot spent the whole time dancing with Dart, and she must say that he’s ‘greatly improved.’ Neither of them stepped on the other’s toes. Still, she prefers to hold him when he’s not encased in a leather picture frame.

At the stroke of midnight, they went out onto the porch and sang a couple of songs and Dot played a few notes on her new sweet potato. To bed by 2:30 and up at 8:00 to feed the boys and Toni Gale, who had also spent the night there.

Dot went home for a breather, but returned in the afternoon so the Millers could attend another party. After a night at home, she was up again early to go to work. That’s all she can say on that subject because she has resolved to use less profanity in 1945.

This evening, Dot took herself to see “Double Indemnity,” which was not to her liking. In fact, it didn’t do the intended trick of making her stop feeling sorry for herself. You see, she’s fallen in love with a sailor who’s a thousand miles away and she wishes he were here.

The other day, Dot bought the record “‘Til Then.” The flip side was “You Only Hurt the Ones You love,” which is Nancy’s favorite. Both songs got plenty of play during their New Year’s Eve party, but Dot has a little problem with Nancy’s favorite; she doesn’t think it’s true. She and Dart certainly love each other, yet she’s never intentionally hurt Dart, nor has he hurt her. She’s sure that state will continue throughout their lives. She’s happy they’ve never had a quarrel and hopes they can always make that claim.

Off to bed for this busy, sleepy girl.

010245ad010245bd010245cd010245dd

January 3, 2015

16. January 1945

No letters were written by either party on this day 70 years ago, but I wanted to tell a little story about a brief conversation I had last week with my mother.

She was visiting us over Christmas, and had logged on to this blog early in the morning, eager to read Dart’s letter of that day. She made the comment that she was dreading this period when he was about to go off to war because she remembers how hard it was to go weeks without hearing from him. She wasn’t looking forward to reliving those days through long gaps in the blog.

I assured her that there would be no long gaps. I will continue to post letters on the day they were written – not when they were received. Since both our young correspondents were quite faithful in writing to each other often, the gaps will be only a few days, at most.

During the month of January 1945, Dot wrote on 13 days and Dart on 10. He was, of course, at sea during most of that time and she was keeping her usual busy schedule. The censors on Dart’s ships had something to say about how many letters each man on board could write. (Imagine having to read letters penned by hundreds of men every day, excising from each one any detail that might put the ship in danger.) For Dot’s part, it must have been challenging to come up with new things to write about when she had nothing new from Dart to respond to. Still, I think they did a fabulous job keeping things going during this difficult time.

I love to imagine those glorious days when each of them received a large bundle of letters from their beloved. Did they thrill to the sight of the cherished handwriting on the envelopes? Did they sniff a letter or two in an attempt to discern any trace of their loved one’s scent or surroundings? Did they rip them open randomly and hungrily devour the words on the pages, or did they sort them chronologically by postmarks, steal away to a private corner with a favorite beverage, and savor each one like a soothing opiate?

Whatever their method, I can only assume that each surge of mail brought a flood of joy and relief as well as a fresh bout of longing and loneliness. In our age of instant communication, could we weather sustained periods of zero contact with a loved one whom we knew was very likely in harm’s way? How miraculous that we never need to.

January 4, 1945

16. January 1945, Dart's Letters, Dot's Letters

Dart’s letter, sent from an undisclosed location, chats about his recent dinner with two Ensigns and their wives and a movie he saw, but I can’t make out what it all means. Has he left the country? Is he on a ship or in a port somewhere?

The last couple of sentences out of the 10 or so that make the entire letter are particularly perplexing. “This morning, we go back to the yard for ten day’s availability. More trouble, of a more serious nature. Must chase off to run checks on our guns.”

Perhaps this will all be cleared up in future days.

010445a

Dot writes this rather long, lazy letter while at work in a nearly deserted store. It’s so dead that there’s not much to write about.

The family received five letters from Gordon yesterday, the most recent mailed on December 23. As of that date, he had received none of the eight packages they’d mailed him for Christmas. He wrote that the ship’s carpenter had crafted a plywood Christmas tree for the men’s enjoyment. Gordon said that he would be able to endure this Christmas so far from home by living on his memories of last Christmas surrounded by his family in Greenwich. “And to think I got homesick when I was at Andrews! I should be ashamed.”

It’s already driving her nuts not to hear from Dart every day. She supposes she’ll get used to it eventually, but she’s not happy about it. Then she thinks of her co-worker, Mrs. Crowley, who hasn’t heard from her son in over three years. He’s a prisoner in a Japanese camp and she recently got word that he’d been transferred from the Philippines to Tokyo.

She includes a silly paragraph about the store being so slow that they wouldn’t know what to do if a customer happened to walk in. Then she says that he should forgive her silliness. She’s in the mood to write a long letter, but since there’s no news, she must fill in the pages with nonsense “that would sound much better if left unsaid.”

Dot has convinced Mr. Goldstein to write Dart a letter. He was in the Navy during the last war as a Fireman 1/c (first class). To hear him tell it, being Fireman 1/c is the next best thing to being President. Quips Dot, “Most Firemen I have met could do a much better  job being president than that guy in there now.” She then asks Dart if he’s sure her letters are not run past the censors, because if they are, that last line will certainly be cut.

Mr. Goldstein just handed her the note he wrote to include in this letter. She hopes Dart can make out more than she can. Since Bob Goldstein is not much for writing letters, she says Dart must be pretty special to get a personal note from him.

She must stop now or she’ll have to make things up to fill in the letter. She tells Dart to wear his rubbers and write when he can. I assume she’s referring to galoshes.

There were no letters written on January 5, so I’ll meet you back here on the 6th.

010445ad010445bd010445cd010445dd

January 6, 1945

16. January 1945, Dot's Letters

Here’s another light-hearted offering from Dot, short on news, but long on affection.

She says she spends a lot of time wondering where he is and what he’s doing. She guesses she’ll be wondering a mighty long time. She asks for his promise that when this war is over and they’re sitting in front of that big fireplace they plan for their home, he’ll tell her about his ocean voyage and what the guys talked about to pass the time. She’ll also tell him what she talked about that kept her roommates awake all night. “By the time I tell you, it will have become a reality and no longer ‘just talk.'”

She asks how he likes the big ocean. “Do they heave out the anchor on your lunch hour so all the boys can take a dip; or do they just throw out tow ropes for you to hang on to as you glide along? Even though you’re on a ship, it is possible to travel ‘by rail’ you know, or haven’t you been sea-sick?” I love this little paragraph. It makes me smile to think of a Navy ship arranging a pleasant outing so the “boys” can have a little swim time during their lunch break, like a boat picnic on a lake. I can also envision a few greenish young men hugging the ship’s railing as they heave their stomach contents ,”riding the rail.”

She hopes this reaches him by his birthday and that he has an extra special one. She seems pretty impressed that he’ll be 21. She’s glad he was still underage in November or he would have voted for the wrong candidate. She hopes to have enough influence over him by the next election that he’ll change his political views. As it turned out, the political leanings of these two kids grew to be very similar over the years. Ironically, they both ended up much more closely aligned to Dart’s current views than Dot’s.

Tonight Dot saw “When Irish Eyes Are Smiling” with the girls. If he happened to catch a whiff of something foul, it was the movie. The lead singer looked and sounded like Frank Sinatra, who for some reason Dot detests. That’s another of her youthful opinions that was subject to change in later years.

Her mother stopped by Franklin Simons today and one of Dot’s co-workers told Ruth that she can always tell if Dot got a letter from Dart when she went home on her lunch break. “She’s getting to be able to tell by the color of my cheeks and the twinkle in my eye whether or not I’ve been talking about you. When it shows that much, it just has to be love!”

She tells Dart that if the Navy could build a ship big enough to carry all her love, it would make the Queen Mary look like a life raft. Tonsillectomy sends her regards and promises to write when she’s caught up on her studies.

Once again, there are no letters tomorrow, but on January 8th, both Dot and Dart return.

010645ad010645bd010645cd010645dd

January 8, 1945

16. January 1945, Dart's Letters, Dot's Letters

Dart writes that there is a lot of “stuff” going on that he can’t write about because it would be cut to ribbons by the censors.

He writes that there’ll be so much to talk about after this war is over, but he thinks it might be best for them to forget there was a war or a Navy keeping them from leading the normal, happy lives of two kids in love.

He says he uses the term “kids” because he  has heard from several happily married couples, both young and old, that as long as they feel that love, they remain young and happy in spirit.

“Say, this sounds like a lot of over-rich marmalade, doesn’t it? I better stop now and let the memories of a precious few hours together and a precious few million tender words in letters take over until next time.”

Gee, all of this is very pretty, but I’m sure Dot is eager for details. Looks like she’ll be cultivating a lot of patience in the coming months.

010845a010845b

Dot writes a quick note telling Dart that she and her new friend Nancy went ice skating today. There was a four-inch snowfall on the ice, so they had to shovel it all off before they could begin skating. They were out in the snow and cold for over two hours and had a ball. She suggested to Dart that if he liked to skate, they’d have to add that to their list of things to do after the war.

It’s been just two days since she got his letter saying that he wouldn’t be writing for a while and she’s already desperate to see that familiar handwriting. She says that if she should ever forget for one second how much she loves him, he should remind her how hard it’s been for her to go all these months without seeing him.

She wishes him goodnight and suggests that if he imagines her saying all the pretty things she wishes she had said it will make the time go faster until she can say all them all in person.

010845ad010845bd

January 9, 1945

16. January 1945, Dot's Letters

Let’s call today’s submission from Dot the “Variety Pack.” First, there’s a cute letter from Tonsillectomy written in a child-like scrawl and filled with news about how much she misses her Poppa and how much she’s been studying. The final sentence says, “Well, Daddy, Momma’s hand is getting awfully sore from writing with her left hand, so I guess I’d better quit now.”

Next comes the official announcement of the winter graduation at Andrews School for Girls on February 11th. You may recall that Dot finished all her academic courses last spring and has been working at Franklin Simons to complete her practicum to qualify for graduation. It seems like just a short while ago she was describing all the activities of last year’s graduation to Dart when he was confined at Great Lakes Naval Hospital.

Finally, Dot has enclosed a calling card, engraved with Miss Dorothy L. Chamberlain, and a brief note on the back. “Dart Dearest – I’ll be thinking of you and loving you all during commencement exercises – and forever after. I love you always – Dorothy”

Not much news, but a novel way to keep in touch.

010945ad010945cd010945ed

January 10, 1945

16. January 1945, Dot's Letters

A newsy note from Dot informs the “old salt” that she’s babysitting for Carter Ford again tonight. She enclosed a small photo of the adorable red-haired, dimpled child. Apparently someone gave his mother lots of match books (remember those?) with his photo on the cover, so she’s sending one along.

Dot expressed frustration with how slow the town gets after the holiday hustle – especially Franklin Simons. Today she took a nap in the stock room, wrote two letters and tried on dresses. The latter activity is necessary because she needs a new dress to wear to the alumnae banquet in Willoughby next month. She needs something dressy, but she thinks anything that is not strictly tailored looks bad on her. She chalks that up to her lack of sophistication, making fancy clothes unsuitable for her. She draws a sketch of the dress she chose, based on the number of votes by her co-workers. It’s aqua with short sleeves and a jewel neckline, with a kind of cascading panel in the front. It actually looks pretty and rather sophisticated. I think she struck the right balance.

She suspects that Dart won’t be much interested in her graduation wardrobe, but says it’s difficult to find things to fill the pages when she’s not getting anything from him. Still, it’s a task she’s happy to do.

As humans have been doing for eons when there’s no other conversational subject, she turns to the weather. Today’s temperature in Greenwich reached a frigid nine degrees. She says she’s so sorry she’ll have to miss the lovely spring weather that’s bound to come someday because she’ll still be frozen solid until August.

Sending all her love for all eternity, she signs off.

There are no letters from either tomorrow, but we finally hear from Dart on the 12th. Remember that Dot was not so fortunate in 1945. The last letter she received from him was the one he wrote on December 26, and it’s still quite some time before she hears from him again.

011045ad011045bd011045cd

January 12, 1945

16. January 1945, Dart's Letters

Here’s a wonderful, newsy letter from Dart, full of many details that Dot will hungrily devour, but scant information on where he is or where he’s going.

He’s hoping to get the hang of writing under the watchful eye of the censors. “We can say less while we’re on the move than from a more permanent assignment, which is why my last letter was so brief and newsless.”

Before getting into port on their first stop, they were given the uncommon treat of being allowed to mail two letters from the ship, thanks to an impromptu panel of officer censors. There’s no news when they’ll have another chance to mail anything home, but Dart will keep writing whenever he can.

He describes the transport he’s on as brand new – in fact, she’s on her maiden voyage. She’s sleek and clean and still smells of fresh paint. They have fresh water for showers and laundry – an unheard of luxury. Dart says he can see that this ship was designed for easy conversion to a private passenger vessel after the war.

The first part of this journey was made alone, but now they are in the company of ____________________. (The censors have excised two lines of detail here, so we’ll never know who travels with them.) He apologizes that he was unable to get off the ship at their first stop to buy Dot the gift he’d promised. Reading between the lines, I think we can assume that the port was Pearl Harbor and the gift was the grass skirt.

Dart confesses that he was not a very good sailor during the first day and a half at sea, laid flat by sea sickness. After a day of calm waters, a full stomach and a lemon to suck on, he has recovered completely and can hold his own. Mostly the ship rocks from side to side, occasionally hard enough to send unsecured items scuttling across the deck. Sometimes, however, they have a deep fore-to-aft roll that reminds him of Euclid Beach (roller coaster?).

He confirms that he’ll not be at Dot’s graduation from Andrews in February, but hopes his folks will be there in his stead. He also hopes his parents and Ruth Chamberlain will have a chance to meet while she’s in Ohio for the occasion. He wants Dot to remind him to give her a big kiss of congratulations when they see each other next – one of many kisses they’ll have to catch up on.

Dart’s description of the great Pacific ocean reveals his new found love of the sea. “Ever since I first saw the beautiful blue of the Pacific, I’ve been trying to find words to describe it or something to compare it with. Maybe you remember the deep blue of the world globe in the living room at home…The Pacific is about the color of that globe, only more pure and transparent looking, with dimpled swells and fresh whitecaps stretching without end on all sides.”

“A curl of white foam breaks from the plunging, racing bow, and a wide, effervescent wake like a king-sized lime phosphate trails behind us. Beautiful and thrilling sights.”

He supposes that when she steps outside into the Connecticut winter, she envies him his tropical one. As he sits, bathed in perspiration on the searing hot deck, he envies her. He adds dryly, “The scenery on the east side of the Golden Gate is more varied and interesting that on the west side.”

Except for the lack of waiters, deck chairs and female companions, this feels to Dart more like a pleasure cruise. He and his fellow sailors hang out on deck watching the flying fish glistening in the sunlight and the array of sea birds following the ship for hours without moving a muscle. Perhaps they, like Dart, are watching the other ships in the convoy practice their maneuvers.

In a paragraph about the leisure activities on board, the censors take another bite out of the page. Dart talks about radio programs and recorded music playing over the loud speakers on the deck. Then, as he describes the games of checkers, cribbage and the like, about three lines of text are carved out. Hmm.

The “boys” must wear their lifebelts at all times and they’re grateful not to be using the old “Mae West” style of hot, bulky flotation devices.

In the time he’s not been dreaming of their past and future, he has been making a few more sketches of their house, which he’ll send her as soon as the opportunity arises. He misses her daily letters, but looks forward to receiving a big stack of them in the future.

No mail on the 13th, but Dot will be back on the 14th. See you then.

011245a011245b011245c011245d011245e011245f

January 14, 1945

16. January 1945, Dot's Letters

Dot says that while she has been inconsistent with her letters, she keeps Dart in her thoughts all the time.

Last night the family had a birthday celebration for Arthur. Although Dot thoroughly enjoyed the dinner, she began to feel sick as soon as it was over. After retiring to her bedroom, she “returned the dinner I had so enjoyed a short time before.” She didn’t feel 100% this morning, but now she’s nearly back to normal. “As normal as I ever was,” she quips.

The Chamberlains had a weekend visit from Dot’s cousin – also named Dot – and her family. The other Dot married a Belgian and they have three children, ages 6 to 12. Her husband has accepted a job in the Belgian Congo and the entire family will be moving there in March. The children are scared, even though they spent their early years living in Belgium and speaking French. Now they have forgotten most of their first language and are nervous about living in a foreign place and attending a school where only French is spoken.

Dot (our own) tells Dart that she had begun taking Spanish in night school and enjoyed it a lot. Unfortunately, there were not enough students signed up, so they discontinued the class.

She got a nice letter from Dart’s mother today, thanking her for the subscription to Life magazine that she gave his parents for Christmas. She’s sorry to hear that Dart’s father has to spend a few weeks in bed for some undisclosed ailment, but she’s happy to know that he’ll be good as new in four weeks and plans to attend Dot’s graduation. She’s getting very excited about the big event.

She’s enclosing the last of the Chamberlain family Christmas snapshots for his viewing pleasure. She tells Dart that her days seem empty without his letters. She surely hopes they start arriving again soon because they seem to bring him much closer to her.

“Be seein’ you in my dreams, Dearest,” she says as she hurries off to bed.

011445ad011445bd011445cd011445dd