Dart begins this letter while on watch. A rain storm has driven him inside the station, rather than lying on top of it, basking in the sun.

This has hardly felt like a holiday. It seems strange to have no fireworks or parades. The guys are hoping they can talk somebody into firing off a few rounds from one of the anit-aircraft guns. “That in itself would create quite a noise, but the ‘fireworks’ would come from another source.” (The brass, perhaps?)

He begins a dissertation on the vastness of the Pacific Ocean. He begins by telling Dot that he sees another ship that’s traveling with them far off on the horizon, 13 miles away. On the other side of his ship, there’s another one, roughly the same distance from him. That means that between the two vessels on either side of the Haggard, there is about 25 miles of open sea – or approximately the distance that Dart drove from Cleveland to Andrews School for a date with Dot. Theses three ships can cruise at top speed, that far apart for days and days and days, and none of them will see the tiniest speck of land. Nothing but sea, ships and sky.

It took a much faster ship 21 days at top speed to deliver Dart from California to the place where he first boarded the Haggard. Not once in that time was land visible anywhere on the horizon.

Last night, he took his dress jumper and two suits of his whites to the ship’s tailor. Prior to sailing, his uniforms all looked like he could smuggle potatoes in them, but now there’s barely room for just him! He had his jumpers pared down in the “midships” section to fit him closer, but the trousers didn’t need any work at all, so we know where al his newly acquired weight has ended up.

All of this is in preparation for an upcoming Captain’s Inspection of Personnel. He doesn’t object too strongly about these infrequent inspections. Generally, the crew wears dungarees all day, every day, so the inspections are a nice way to break up the routine. If they happen too often though, Dart would be right there cussin’ with everyone else, and even begin to mean it.

The bull session near him is getting too rowdy for him to continue writing, but he deems the letter too long anyway, and signs off.

No letters on July 5, but Dot returns on the 6th.

Dart was shocked and discouraged today when his locker disgorged 14 unanswered letters from Dot – some of them nearly six months old! Now the letters are stale and seem to have lost the spontaneous quality they have when they’re new. “To write an answer to a many-months old letter is like trying to write to a perfect stranger. (Or even to a stranger who’s not perfect!)

In a letter from “way back in April,” Dot asked what Lauren Bacall had that she couldn’t find plenty of use for. Dart decided not to answer “Humphrey Bogart,” as some “Waggish baffoon” suggested he should.

He’s glad to read that Dot doesn’t like guns. He’s happy to have as many as possible “out here,” but after the war, the only guns he hopes to ever see are the pop guns and cap pistols that children play with. He says there are guys on the ship who have such a love of guns that they make his obsession with railroads look like “mild neglect.”

She wrote that he would never see her in hair curlers. While he thought there would be few secrets between them, he’ll allow her that one. But what if he should barge in unexpectedly from work  one day and find her in such a state? Would he be shocked into a nervous wreck?

He takes a break from answering the old letters to share a bit of news from home. He learned through Fred that one of their old Shaw buddies who was shot down over Austria had been divorced by his wife of one year just before being killed. Both he and Fred had fretted over that hasty marriage between two people who had just met. He worries also about Bob McCarthy, who became engaged after knowing a girl for nine days, and was married very soon thereafter.

I’ve been thinking about these hasty marriages that I’ve heard of, especially during WWII. Some of them actually turned out quite well. Both my brother and a close friend of mine became engaged just weeks after meeting their beloved, married quickly after that, and have gone on to have happy, stable marriages lasting several decades. Also, Dot and Dart both agree they fell in love at first sight and have known from the start that they were each other’s choice for life partner. So, obviously time is not really a factor in determining a successful relationship. It’s probably even overrated in terms of really knowing another person well. Haven’t we all had the experience of meeting someone – friend or lover – and instantly feel as though we’ve known them all our lives. There are certainly many factors that go into successfully choosing a mate, but I believe one that gets overlooked is knowing oneself well. I think Dot and Dart were both blessed with a clear sense of who they were and what kind of personality would compliment theirs. That may be rare in people as young as they, but I think it’s part of the answer.

Dart wants to hear more about Dot’s old hopes of marrying a minister. Did she go against that in choosing Dart, or did she come close to the mark? “I took an awful razzing for my ideas while I was on watch the other night. And such admonitions to come from a minister’s son! Boy, if I took some of the ‘advice’ and ‘help’ that’s offered me, you’d never want to see me again, nor could I face you if I did!”

In her letter of May 3, Dot copied a poem for Dart which he liked very much. In fact, he just checked and it’s the exact poem he had put aside to include in one of his letters to her. Donn Byron’s girlfriend sent him the same one. It sure appears to have universal appeal, at least among young lovers separated by war, time and distance.

Speaking of poetry, Dart begins to wax poetic about a sight he is observing from high up on the ship. He’s peering down onto four neat rows of sailors in their dress whites, lined up for inspection. “What a sight. Bright sun on blue water. Trim, clean gray ship. Brisk breeze and four rows of men in whites. Their collars and neckties whipped by the wind as the ship points her nose first at the sky, then at the sea. The neat rows lean first one way as the ship rolls to port. They lean, in unison, the other way as the ship rolls to starboard. The ship’s bow rises on the crest of a swell, then falters for a tiny instant. With a rush, it dips down into the moving sea, sending out great winglike splashes of white foam.

The even rows of men snap to attention. A large man in khaki, followed by three others, walks up and down the rows, taking all in his glance. Now and then, that glance lingers on a pair of shoes, a haircut, a neckerchief. Then he moves on. The men disband and disappear. The inspection’s over. They’re picturesque things to watch.”

He hopes she’s had some nice sails with the Millers over the summer. It must be great fun.

That’s all for now.

Dart shares an interesting anecdote about an incident yesterday. “We had a real chaplain for our church services. We borrowed him for the afternoon from one of the ships we’re operating with.  We pulled up to the other ship with our bow about 100 feet from her stern, and to the side of it. They shot a light line to us and we pulled over a heavy line. On that heavy line was a pulley and a ‘bo’sun’s chair,’ a little seat like a swing. In the bo’sun’s seat sat the good padre’, grinning from the midst of his life jacket and clutching a large gold altar cross. We pulled him across the gap, over the turbulent, rushing water. He alighted dry and happy.”

Dart tells how the crew had decorated their ship’s little fantail with draped cloth, benches brought up from the mess and an improvised altar. The chaplain brought over some hymnals and mimeographed programs and led the group in good singing before delivering a good and timely sermon. All of this sounds like Yankee ingenuity put to fine use.

He describes a watch he has daily now. It’s always the same three fire control guys, plus one of a rotating group of officers. They hang out in the “castle,” high atop the ship and shoot the breeze. Favorite topics include past liberties, cars, and the Navy. They never talk about women – “at least never more than four hours at a time.” (Did I mention it’s a four-hour watch?) Today they were running through all the quizzes from a recent Reader’s Digest, from vocabulary and spelling to general knowledge.

He tells Dot that this morning a couple of the “strikers,” (same rate as Dart) who have been on board a couple of months longer than he has, took their Fire Controlmen Third Class tests. Word is the test was a doozie! Dart may have a chance to take it in another three or four months.

The scuttlebutt on the ship is that they should be receiving mail very soon. He’s eager to hear from Dot, of course, but he’s also looking forward to a letter from her folks in response to his asking them for their blessing on his engagement to Dot.

Speaking of the engagement, does she want to have a hand in picking out the ring? To his way of thinking, if she’s going to be wearing it for quite some time, she ought to have a say it what it looks like.

He’s eager to hear when in September she’ll report to Kent, if she decides to go through with her plan to attend there. He’s working up a couple of ideas for his leave and for their engagement announcement, but timing will determine how much comes to fruition. “We may just make connections, or just miss them, or we may be able to be leisurely about the whole arrangements.” How intriguing! It’s sounding more and more like a September leave is in the cards. How can that be? There’s still a war on!

In her April 3 letter, Dot suggested a rain check for their long walk in the country. Dart thinks that’s a good idea and he’ll leave the location to Dot. Ohio or Connecticut?

Almost time for another watch, so he must go.

It’s an ebullient sailor who pens today’s letter. He’s in joyful posession of 23 letters, three Reader’s Digests, and a box of airmail stationery which arrived today, after a two-week mail draught. “…I surely did get a fine bouquet of good letters. One of yours was off-key and slightly discordant, for a very good reason, but you bounded right back to your normal, cheerful, good-natured self the next night. Dot, I was very sorry to hear about Eleanor’s misadventure. You have an idea now how the boys here feel when someone here gets one of those ‘Darling, I got married last night’ letters. It’s a rugged thing to take. Bitter medicine, but perhaps for the best.”

He suggests that they should have that letter of hers in their hands when they sit down to talk about its contents. There’s much food for thought and it might help keep them grounded as they discuss the ideas she puts forth therein.

Then he confesses to her that something indeed changed to allow him to feel comfortable asking her to marry him. He had been fearful, perhaps superstitious, about coming home maimed, incapacitated, or dead. “But after one of my escapades on the Haggard, in which I thought for a moment that my fears were coming true, I suddenly felt a great relief from a burden. If they didn’t get me then, perhaps I’m safe. My Faith whispers to me that I’ve done the right thing in asking you that all-important question.”

He shares her skepticism of long engagements with indefinite ends. Furthermore, he believes that people who are married should live together, and not half a world apart. Wartime marriages unsettle him. He knows guys on the ship who have two-year old children they’ve never even seen!

As she knows, he hasn’t wanted to get married until he finishes his education, but even in letters as far back as 1943, he expressed some flexibility on that. Now, he thinks it’s best they get married as soon as possible after the war is over. “I think that our marriage would help us to complete our education and to get us started so we could begin our home. …We have a high goal and a tough one to achieve. We can do it, Darling. I know we can. It’ll take a scrap of the longest, toughest kind, but we can do it.”

So he confirms that she guessed correctly. It looks entirely possible for them to announce their engagement in September, before she goes away to college.

“That pile of letters I got today has made be hilariously happy. Aside from the thought provoking letter of yours, all were in  high good humor. To think that with a million other dopes and nine million other guys besides, you chose me! It’s an honor; a real, true honor to be in love with you. It ranks with all the coveted honors and highly desired rewards of history and fiction. Dot, it’s beautiful!”

And now he must confess that the photograph she sent him recently is one of the best likenesses of her he has ever seen. “It catches the wholesomeness of your personality very well.” He’s placed it in a position of honor, inside his well-worn leatherette double frame with another favorite image of Dot.

“Dot, I love that picture, and you, and the whole cockeyed world.”

He informs her that the latest letter from her was dated July 7 and it arrived on the 11th. Can it be that the Haggard is getting close to home?

Dot writes that she is happy to have finally seen Cynthia, except for one gruesome detail. “She decided to give herself a crew hair cut like Bob’s (her intended) and the result is anything but beautiful. Fortunately, she thought better of the idea after only one snip of the scissors, so only the front looks like the hairbrush I threw out last week. Now, that’s what I call real devotion. Will you believe me, Dear, when I say that I love you, even if I don’t get a hair cut like yours?”

“I knew they couldn’t do it. What? Live entirely without love. Oh yes, I’m talking about the movie we saw tonight. They got married without love but managed to pick it up somewhere along the line. …It all turned out for the best, though, and was a comedy in the bargain.”

All that’s left to say is that she loves him beyond comprehension and misses him as much. She begs him to come home soon.