To fill in the empty days between letters, I’m posting three photos that were taken in Cleveland in the fall of 1944, just after Dart graduated from his advanced training school at Treasure Island, California.
The pictures show Dot, Dart and his mother, Helen. Dot had recently lost 15 pounds and she’s looking positively gorgeous. The pictures show how skinny Dart really was in those days.
Thanks to my sister, Nancy Peterson Glidden for providing me with these snapshots.
![Gran and Dot 1945[1]](http://spotandarrow.com/wp-content/uploads/Gran-and-Dot-19451.jpg)
![Gran Dart 1945[1]](http://spotandarrow.com/wp-content/uploads/Gran-Dart-19451.jpg)
Dart has a lot to say after a week of not writing. Ever since his group arrived at their current location, drafts have been called up every day for men to become replacement crews for various ships in the fleet. Guys he knows have gone to all sorts of ships, from destroyer escorts to mighty battleships. Now, there are only seven members of his Treasure Island class who remain unassigned, and Dart is one of them. I wonder if they feel like the last kids picked for dodge ball in a grammar school phys ed class.
Those who remain aboard the USS ___________ must remain available for work parties on other ships or on any of the many coral islands that make up the area where he’s docked. He writes, “I can’t tell you how many ships there are here. I don’t know. But I don’t think I’ll ever thrill at the sight of ships again until I see this many warships in Frisco Bay or maybe in New York.” It would appear this young sailor is not inclined toward a career in the Navy.
Although they show movies every night on the fantail, and Dart has seen some of them, the real news is that he finally had a mail call and was thrilled to have a stack of 25 letters waiting for him! Until today, he’s not been allowed to mail letters since he was in Pearl Harbor, but now the system is in place for men in transit to send some letters out. Dart took the opportunity to stuff the mail box with all the letters he’d written up to now. He had cut back on writing, hoping to be assigned to his permanent ship before doing so, but now he realizes it may be quite awhile until that assignment comes, so he’ll begin writing again.
He’s often called out for a work detail, generally from late afternoon to midnight on a supply ship nearby. He was happy to be moved out of the compartment with all those Marines and into a larger, quieter space. In the process, he was able to retrieve his prized map of the Pacific and several other pilfered items.
“Looks like we’ve missed the use of still another full moon. And believe me, the moon is really beautiful as it rises above the deep blue of the tropical sea. Almost as beautiful as it is when it rises above the dear state of Ohio. There are, or were, a huge number of Ohio men on the ship. Every place we’d stand turned out like a reunion.”
He paints a detailed word picture of the scene from his hatch cover where he sits to write this letter. A battleship engaged in gunnery practice leaving flak puffs in the sky, a carrier warming up her planes for take-off practice, colorful signal flags adorning a myriad of ships and the bright signal lights flashing messages from ship to ship. He tells Dot that the small landing craft that come and go, dropping off and picking up passengers make his ship look like a Viennese taxi stand.
He decides the noisy deck is not conducive to writing the kind of love letter he’d prefer, so he closes. “I miss you, Dottie. I hope I never get over missing you whenever we’re apart.”
I’m sure Dot was happy to find a one-page bonus letter when she finally began to receive mail from him again. The purpose of the second letter was to make a start on answering the 11 letters from Dot that came in his first mail delivery. Her letters span the time from December 22 to January 11, and he quickly realizes how fruitless it is to comment on episodes she wrote about that took place over a month ago. Instead, he uses the the page to tell her that he believes their long separations will serve to prove how much they need each other in order to be happy and to remind them of the value of their homes and country. He looks forward to spending the rest of his life trying to make up for all their lost time.
He warns her not to expect much in the way of letters any time soon. Airmail stamps are impossible to obtain where he is. I guess his only other option is to send them through the free mail system, but those will travel by boat and could take quite some time to wend their way to Greenwich.
Today, I look back at the third week of January, 1945. Although it was only two years ago, Dart was literally a world away from where he is in 1947. He’s in his third week as a “passenger” on an unnamed warship, somewhere in the Pacific. His passenger status means he has not yet arrived at his intended destination, where he’ll be assigned to his regular ship. There are a great many passengers aboard, as well as Marines who are being transported to their land assignments throughout the Pacific.
Dart explains the long, boring days with little to do but read the trashy novels available on board. The active crew gets movies every night, but the passengers have only been invited to a few of them. For their own safety, passengers are not permitted above deck after sundown, so he’s yet to view the fabled night sky over this vast ocean. He’s seen lots of islands, ports, and ships, but mostly, it’s endless sea and sky. He has burned and peeled twice so far and is envious of the guys who get tan.
Of course, I’ll never be allowed to tell you when I’ve come to the end of the present voyage. But soon after we hit shore again, however small and obscure that shore may be, I hope to be assigned to a ship, and begin at last the business of helping to win the war instead of being an innocent parasite getting a college education and hospital care through the War Bonds people bought, thinking they were buying jeeps and guns. More power to the war bond purchasers. May they live on forever in blissful ignorance of Peterson the Parasite.
Mom has told be that combat veterans were eligible for a monthly postwar hardship stipend, even beyond the GI Bill money they received. During those very lean months living with his parents, Dot often encouraged Dart to claim his rightful stipend in order to ease the financial strain on his family. He remained steadfast in his commitment not to “bilk” the nation out of any more assistance. He felt he’d been compensated enough for his war service by his extended care in a naval hospital and through his college tuition. He was always a man of great integrity.
Meanwhile, Dot is in Greenwich in January 1945, finishing up her retailing internship at Franklin Simons before returning to Andrews School for Girls for her graduation. She faithfully fills several pages every day with breezy chitchat of her life in Greenwich.
This week, she has caught the bowling bug. At the beginning of the week, she’s bowling at least three games every night, but by week’s end, she’s stiff and sore from the extra workouts. After writing her nightly letter, she lies awake in bed, reliving every precious moment she’s shared with Dart. This week, she finds herself imagining where they will be five years from now. The possibilities are thrilling to her and excite her to the point of complete sleeplessness,
As I read her positive, happy letters, I can almost picture the skinny sailor sitting on his canvas sea bag in the belly of a large, gray ship. As he reads through a stack of her letters, his eyes twinkle with delight at her clever turn of a phrase or her witty observations about her customers. I see his eyes misting up a little as he scans the last page – the part of the letter where she sometimes inserts the sentimental lines that he lives for.
At this stage in their story, the daily letters are but an exercise in commitment; neither of the pair has received any mail from the other in several weeks. Still, the very act of writing seems to bridge the gap of space, time, and circumstances that separate them. And each looks forward to that blessed day when their drought of incoming mail will at last be quenched.