Category Archives: 22. July 1945

July 12, 1945

Dart seems to be in a strange mood as he returns from liberty and begins to write. This brief letter consists mostly of a complaint about the size and design of his foot locker, in which he must stow all of his reglation gear and his personal belongings. He can barely reach his locker, stored under the bottom bunk which is occupied by a drunken sailor “sleeping one off.”

The ship’s gagnway (which is really just a ladder flung over the side) has been busy today with all sorts of visitors. Most have them are looking on the wrong ship, but occasionally the visitor is for the Haggard. “But I have not the desire nor the purpose to discuss the rovings of mangy dogs. I mean to tell you how very much I love you. Just for your describing yourself mowing the lawn, I think now that I will try to surprise you! So there!”

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Dot, too, is in a strange mood. She’s so lonely for Dart, and it’s been a week since she got any mail from him. She tells him about a vivid dream she had last night where Dart was being towed by his ship while he rode in a row boat. She deduced that meant he was on his way hope and would be here in about two weeks. She woke herself up screaming out to her mother, “Dart’s on his way home!” Her mother came to her room, shook her awake, and told her what a foolish notion it was that he should be coming home now. It took Ruth a long time to convince Dot that the dream wasn’t real.

“Golly, Dart, I was so sure! But why torture myself by thinking it? Only sometimes, I get to a point when I think I’ll go stark, raving mad if I don’t see you soon.” Actually, I’m enthralled by the fact that she has picked up on some kind of vibe that he’s heading back to the States!

In other news, she and El bought matching “sister dresses” to wear on the Miller’s sailboat this weekend. And Mrs. Miller got so many compliments on her hair after Dot set it for her, that everyone thought she’d had it done professionally. “Think I ought to go into business? Huh, got so many businesses now I can’t keep ’em straight.”

“Darling, I miss you so much I don’t know how I’ll stand it, but you know the old saying, ‘Where there’s a will, there’re relatives.'”

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July 13, 1945

Dart begins his letter near the end of his telephone watch. He says he’s in his seat, “in front of, under, between, surrounded by a few thousand dollars worth of gadgets and gray paint.”

He will try to drop a letter to Gordon because he knows how much mail means when one is incapacitated. He’s tried numerous times to find Gordon’s ship when the Haggard was on the move among other ships, but he hasn’t been successful. Their meeting may have to wait until the war is over.

When he resumes this letter the next day, he writes, “As you probably guessed by now, you may be seeing me pretty soon. We’re still not quite sure of our timing or of the arrangements.” He explains that when a ship is in the USA, the crew is divided into three leave parties so that there is always sufficient crew on board. As it stands now, he’s in the second group to get leave, but he’s not sure when they’ll be home for the leaves to start. But the importnat news remains; HE’S COMING  HOME!

He approves of the agreement Dot suggested – that if either of them senses their feeling for the other are changing, they should speak up immediately. “I’d rather not be thinking of such things, but in view of Don’s actions, perhaps it’s best that we make such an agreement. …Damn this war anyway! It’s shooting all out hopes and plans to pieces. We must make the most of what we have. That doesn’t mean rushing into things. We must take them as they come.”

“Well, (he says with a wry grin), I guess I pulled a boner on that ‘not smart about one thing’ deal. I should write books on ‘how to embarrass oneself in one easy sentence.’ When I read your paragraph in reply to mine, somebody asked me where I got my face so sunburned.”

On June 23rd, Dot had asked him in a letter if he’d seen June’s full moon. “Oh brother! Did I see a moon! …That was the night I wrote about when we pulled into port during such a beautiful evening. When our mail came aboard and was sorted, we sat around on deck and read our letters by moonlight, at midnight! That night I received your answer to my question about becoming engaged and you ask did I see the moon!”

He concludes by writing that he’d hoped to write 6 pages tonight, but they are being asked to cut down on letters. Some ships’ crews are limited to two-page letters because the censoring task takes so long. He understands that censoring is a tedious and disagreeable, but letter writing is his only joy. The movies shown on board are childish affairs, he doesn’t drink, and he takes no pleasure in gambling. His pen is his only pleasure and if they greatly curtailed his use of it, he’d be lost. So, he heeds the request for shorter letters and sends his undying love.

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Another brief note from Dot, written while she’s babysitting for her niece, Toni Gale. Harriet and George have gone out to dinner with their foster daughter, Helen and Helen’s boyfriend Bob, recently returned from the war. Dot writes that Helen is a mature 16-year old with a sweet disposition. Bob is a swell fellow, aged 23, with three years of optometry school in front of  him, “So, they still have plenty of time to map out what they plan to do with the rest of their lives.”

Dot hopes to get a nap in before they get home, so she wraps up the letter. She misses Dart and his letters very much. Won’t she be thrilled in a few days when she receives Dart’s letter with the news that he’s on his way home!

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July 14, 1945

Today’s letter is actually written by Dot’s mother, Ruth, on the typewriter in the Fix-It Shop. She uses the reasons of speed and efficiency to justify her use of this impersonal medium and says “I understand that even Emily Post says it is quite alright to do so in 1945.” She promises that Mr. Chamberlain’s response will come at his first opportunity, but she will answer indepentdently, even though Mr. Chamberlain is her ‘boss’.

She writes “Dottie was quite naturally very upset at the bomb shell which fell into our midst when Eleanor got word that Don had married a nurse at Camp Devens. My heart ached for both El and Dot. When one has lived as long as I have one begins to see that many things that seem hard to bear are really for the best. But it’s hard to deal in platitudes when the heart is breaking. You have heard from Dot and perhaps seen the bewilderment reflected in her letters. However she is right with you in your plans and I am sure you will find it easy to dissipate any misgivings she may still have when you arrive.

We  have tried hard as parents to help the children to learn how to make their own decisions, – for we want them to lead their own  lives – not that we want them to have happier lives than we have had – but because we feel they can only be happy if living according to their own notions. We are behind them every step of the way – not as a crutch – but as an interested spectator. When that big decision of choosing a life mate is involved, more than ever the decisions should be their own – according to the dictates of their hearts – with perhaps a few remarks from the head! Love is the only firm foundation on which to build a home and a life partnership, and that is something that no one else can decide for you. Therefore Dart, my word for you is that if you and Dot are in love with each other you have my heartfelt blessing on your plans, and I shall do all in my power to aid and abet them.”

Wow! What a writer! And what an incredible parent!

She continues the letter with family news: Gordon’s arm has improved enough to lift a coffee cup; the girls went sailing with the Millers this afternoon; Arthur Chamberlain has just about decided there is enough work to do at the lake cottage that he will close the shop for a week in August and tend to the work at the lake; Betty has two weeks vacation coming and intends to ‘rub it in’ with El and Dot, who are just lucky to have Saturdays off from work.

Speaking of Saturdays off, the Fix-It Shop is theoretically to be closed on Saturday afternoon, but Ruth has been unable to lock the door because there’s always someone walking through it. Now she’s been informed that she has a flat tire and must tend to it.

She closes with a very gracious paragraph. “We are anxious for you to know, Dart that, quite aside from Dot’s opinion of you, we think you’re a pretty nice Sailor and we are hoping your seas will be smooth, literally as well as figuratively speaking. Every good wish for your safety, comfort and speedy return to home waters.

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July 15, 1945

Dart begins this letter while on watch in a cramped space with an uncomfortable chair, but he says it’s a good watch to have nonetheless. He’s plucked from his collection of unanswered letters Dot’s offerings from June 26 and 27 as his inspiration for this letter.

“Yes, Dot. Several times I’ve predicted long lulls in my letter writing; but it’s more miraculous than you have any idea how we managed to get our letters through without any long interruptions. Those warnings were given in good faith, though. For a week you seemed unduly worried in your letters. To be truthful, that was the week your worries should have stopped. I was comparatively safe then. Maybe your worries just came to a head at that time.” (See how he hints at coming through a significant trial?)

“If the censors haven’t cut so much as a period from my recent letters, maybe it’s because I’ve decided to be a good little boy. And maybe you don’t know a hint when you see one.”

So now she knows he’s real because he whistled at a girl once. He hopes she doesn’t mind that he has a few other “real” characteristics which she’s bound to discover over time. “I’ve noticed a few in you, and I like ’em lots, Dot.”

He tells her that the biggest trouble with getting home before the end of the war is that he’ll only have to return to the fighting again. “Those partings are terribly difficult for both of us, Dot. But why look at the black side of it? The last time I saw you it was for only 52 hours. Leaves of 30 days plus travel time are granted to men from overseas. We’ll enjoy what we have.”

“I love you and I miss you too, Dot. I promise you a five-minute kiss the instant we meet. Then we’ll move aside so the rest of the people can get off the boat.” Funny guy, this sailor.

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Both Dot and her father wrote to Dart today. First, Dot’s letter.

Yesterday, she and El went sailing on the Miller’s boat, “Ship Shape.” It was the first Dot had seen this beautiful craft that Mr. Miller built himself. It’s 28 feet long and can sleep four. At one point, Dot decided to swim along with the boat, but by the time she dove in and surfaced, both the boat and the long tow rope were far out of reach. The “crew” had to circle back and pick her up. She hung onto the tow rope for about 15 minutes, bobbing and ducking under the waves, to the delight of little Chris. Eventually her arms grew tired and she came back on board, but she had loads of fun!

This morning Mrs. Miller called to say that the strong winds last night broke “Ship Shape” from her moorings, and she washed ashore. Luckily, she washed up on a weedy beach and suffered no damage.

Today, she gave her room a good cleaning – the first time in ages. She’s be staying up until very early morning for several nights, so she needs to get to bed earlier tonight in preparation for the big sale at work tomorrow.

She’s still terribly worried about Dart and hopes to hear soon that he’s alright. I wonder if this is residual angst over El’s recent calamity – a realization that one never knows when trouble’s about to pay a visit.

Then comes Arthur Chamnerlain’s letter. I’ll quote it below, nearly verbatim because it’s so good.

“Your letter addressed to Mrs. Chamberlain and me can hardly be said to have come as a complete surprise, nor has Dot entirely hidden her feelings from us. And I am glad you wrote – not that it is a necessary formality, for I do not consider it as such – but it does help a parent’s ego, you know.

We have always been of the belief that when the children reach the age of maturity, their decisions should be their own, and influenced as little as possible by our feelings or desires. That belief is particularly strong when it comes to the matter of a choice of future life companions.

And so, Dart, to answer you specific request for permission, I can only say that it is not mine to give, but if you and Dot have come to a mutual understanding and agreement, God bless you both.

The greatest wish for your future happiness that I can give you is that it may be as great as my own over the last thirty years.

For my part, I regret that conditions have been such that we have had little chance to see you. Dot, however, does give us some excellent reports. She wouldn’t be biased, would she?

From all we can hear you fellows are doing the impossible to those yellow Japs. More power to you, and the best of luck in all ways.”

So here’s my question: Did everyone know how to write a good letter back in those days, or did I just happen to get lucky enough to be born into a family of fine writers?

Finally, there is a secret note slipped into the envelope from Ruth. She explains that she’s enclosing some photos of Dot as a baby – photos that might meet a “firey end” if Dot were to get her hands on them, so she’s sending them to Dart with a request that he keep them safe and keep her secret. Funny!

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July 16, 1945

Exuberance is the order of the day. As Dot fights off the crowds at work (people whom she says have come to Franklin Simon to see what we’re giving away), Doug arrives with five letters from Dart and one from Gordon! Although she must wait for her lunch break to read them, just having them in her pocket gives her joy and a deep sense of relief.

She was enchanted by his description of his arrival at that beautiful island as the sun was preparing to set. “I’ve told you so often how much I enjoy your descriptions that it’s no longer news. Dart, it makes wonderful reading, especially at the dinner table.” For some reason, that mental picture gives me a little jolt of pleasure. First, there’s this hard-working family, coming together at the end of the day to enjoy a meal in each other’s company. I can see this modest group sitting in the very formal dining room of the big Victorian house where my mother grew up, turning the dark and stuffy surroundings into a welcoming and cozy setting. Then, I can see them sharing stories of their days – the prople they met, the things they learned. And finally, perhaps over dessert, there would be time for the best wartime tradition of all – reading exceprts from letters they had received from loved ones far away. Ruth might share news from a nephew, or the son of a family friend. Betty might read an amusing anecdote from Gordon. Then Dot would unveil these descriptive jewels from Dart, serving to let everyone at the table into his world, if only for a few minutes.

She was excited to hear about Dart’s impromtu visit with Fred. What fun it must have been to share some time with such a close friend from home in such a remote corner of the globe. She’s sure the visit did Fred a world of good in helping to shake him out of his rut. “I hope you will meet again very soon in Cleveland. Leave the Orient to the Chinese.”

She suggests that rather than her being there to enjoy the scenery with him, it might be preferable if he would come home to enjoy some native scenery with her. She humbly suggest that the views from Sunset Hill in Sunapee, New Hampshire would rival what he’s witnessed over the Pacific. Plus, it has the added bonus of family tradition. From her parents, through Harriet, Gordon and their spouses, the lake has made a beautiful honeymoon spot for Chamberlains. “And who’s to take it forward from here? Only time will tell.”

Dot tells Dart that it’s gratifying he’s so pleased with the person for whom he’s chosen to “foot the bills” for the rest of his life, but he will eventually see her other moods which may not be so pleasing. Still, she wisely declares that she’d rather he love her in spite of her faults than to have some idealized fantasy of who she really is. She’s fairly certain he’s already seen those flaws, but is too much of a gentleman to mention them. I suspect the truth is that what she sees as flaws, he finds to be endearing quirks.

She’s so eager to see him that she’s contemplating swimming out to meet his boat. She asks that if he should spot a dark figure in the water as his ship is heading east, kindly pull along side and hoist her “waterlogged form out of the wet water, please.”

Two other topics need to be covered before she falls into bed. First, does he really think he’ll be home in September? How cruel it would be of him to taunt her unless he’s certain it will happen. Second, she’d rather he pick out the ring himself and surprise her. She says she has no idea what to look for in an engagement ring and she trusts his taste and judgement. “So, be it from Tiffany’s or the ten-cent store, if it’s from you, I know I’ll love it!”

The thought of seeing him again thrills her “completely cock-eyed.”

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July 17, 1945

After serving midnight watch last night, Dart slept through reville, a call to breakfast, a call to report to stations and report to officer of the deck, and he nearly slept through lunch. “There’s a fraternity of daytime sleepers in my corner of the compartment and I sure joined ’em today!”

He holds two of Dot’s letters in his hand – from June 29 and 30 – which he hopes to answer on this current watch. The letter of the 29th brought that lovely new photo of Dot, the one with the wholesome smile. “The last liberty I had, I got my picture taken. In fact, I had three taken. The results rank with the war’s atrocities, and should not be sent through the mails. Wait a month or two and I’ll give them to you. I’d better be around to catch you if you faint (from fright).”

He’s sure he needs to surprise her and try to catch her mowing the lawn. He knows he wouldn’t mind seeing her that way, and he hopes she wouldn’t mind too much, either. He won’t surprise her for his actual leave, because that’s when they plan to announce their engagement. Still, he could surprise her on a liberty. (More hints, I see. How can he arrange for both a leave and a liberty? Where will he be that places him close enough to get to Greenwich on a liberty?)

Speaking of their engagement, he assures her that his folks are as “wholeheartedly in favor of it as you and I (in their own way, of course!)” They’ve told Dart he couldn’t have made a wiser or a better choice. He’s so thrilled with the way things are working out that he can scarcely find words to express it.

He recalls that July 1 a year ago when Dot raced up the stairs at Mason St. to kiss him. She caught him in the middle of the step and he was nervous that they’d lose their balance and tumble down the whole flight, but somehow he managed to keep his feet firm. He adjusted accordingly on the steps in Cleveland a few months later, holding the railing as they enjoyed those ardent kisses.

The last time his ship was in port, the Captain was awarded the Legion of Merit. The crew knew why, but it’s not something that can be written about just yet. The same reason accounts for one of Dart’s two battle stars that he’s added to his uniform since she last saw him. There’s a third one on its way. More hints of the action he’s seen without spilling any unauthorized beans.

Having his parents in Greenwich for the engagement dinner would be like whipped cream on a chocolate sundae. How he hopes they will agree to come!

Meanwhile, he can’t tell Dot his plans until the Navy tells of its plans for him.

He gets a little philosophical about their long separation, saying that as hard as it was, it may have been for the best. “We both know that when we met and fell in love and knew we’d be married eventually, we were too young to proceed immediately with our ultimate courtship. This separation has given us both a chance to mature to the point where we can meet our problems properly and open-mindedly. It’s kept us in love through times when we might have lost interest if we’d been together and unable to realize our ambitions. It’s given us a real chance to see that we need each other. And as long as we try our best to remain on God’s side, He’ll continue to help us.”

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Dot is babysitting overnight with 10-year old Carol, who won’t go to bed until she does. It’s already far past Carol’s bedtime, so Dot is forced to keep this note short and then dash off to bed.

Finally the huge sale at Franklin Simon is over and the store can get back to normal. In Dot’s opinion, most of the things they sold were really not worth even the sale price, but some members of the public are foolish enough to be lured into thinking they are getting something for nothing.

Greenwich is due for a great deal of rain over the next several days. Here’s a new one on me: It rained on St. Swithens Day (What the heck is that?!) and an old legend proclaims that if it rains on that day, it will rain for 40 days straight.

Carol is young and needs her sleep, as does an old lady like Dot, so off they both go to bed.

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July 18, 1945

As happy as Dot is that Dart finally got some mail, she’s also very impressed that he maintains his smooth disposition, even in the face of long lulls in mail delivery. Her father can always tell by her mood whether or not she has had a recent letter from Dart. When I have, “I’m cheerful, silly, and willing to do anything for anybody. But when two or three days go by with no mail, better clear a path, Bud, or you’ll be sorry! Then, I fall lower than a snake’s belly.”

She goes on to say “One of your first jobs (after I answer to your last name instead of mine) is to train me to have a disposition just like yours.”

Today she’s in high spirits because she has a letter from both Dart and his mother. They carry the same news – that’s he’s coming home soon. “It all seems too good to be true, but I will surely continue to hope and pray for the best.”

She’s grateful that he changed his mind about becoming engaged before the war ended. Now that she has a small idea about what he went through to change his mind, she’s glad she didn’t know while it was happening, or she’d have been a nervous wreck. “You realize, of course, that you’ve never hinted that you were doing anything but cruising around in the Pacific. No doubt you’ve seen much more action than I care to think about, but one could never guess it from your letters. You shall never cease to amaze me.”

She wonders if Dart has mentioned their marriage plans to his folks. His mother didn’t mention anything in her letter. Dot would love to say something to his parents, but thinks it’s Dart’s place to break the news to them. She’s frustrated by the need to work these things out over such great expanses of time and distance. It seems like they’re always playing catch-up on their news. She’d love it if he would use his powers of persuasion to convince his parents to attend the engagement party in Greenwich.

Saying that she’s sure they will get to build their house in due time, she turns the house into a metaphor. “When one sets out to build something, he sees to it that the foundation is made of the strongest materials, put together in the best possible way. We’ve got our foundation already built: a love so strong that nothing could break it down or tear it apart. That’s the basic thing, isn’t it? To be sure, we’ll encounter many problems, but we’ll be prepared for those and we’ll see them through together.”

“Every time I read the sentence…’It may even be possible for me to get up to Greenwich earlier’, my stomach feels like butterflies, the way it did when you called me from San Francisco. Gee, but I’m excited!…The only thing that calms me down a little is to remember how disappointed I was when I found out you couldn’t come to my Senior Prom after I’d counted on seeing you so much.”

Her evenings this week are devoted entirely to babysitting. She claims the bags under her eyes are starting to look like coal pits.

She closes with “Glad you play this game of love for keeps. In my humble opinion, that’s the only way it should be played.

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July 19, 1945

Dart’s letter was written from the YMCA in San Diego!! He’s on home soil at last! The Haggard is stopping there just long enough to give every man on board one liberty. Then they’re off to Norfolk, Virginia where they anticipate a four-month stay in the Navy Yard.

He tried to call Dot last night, but after a two-hour wait for the call to go through he learned she had just left the house and would not return for many hours. Where’s a cell phone when you need one? He had to be content with talking to his parents for a mere five minutes. I imagine they were flooded with a sense of relief that their first-born was home, safe and sound.

After waiting two more hours, he tried Dot again, but by that time, there was a five-hour delay on calls to the east coast, so he sent a telegram instead. How he wishes he could have heard her voice!

“Maybe you guessed it by now, but the Haggard is a pretty sick old girl. I guess anybody’d be sick if he were hit by a couple of Kamikaze warriors. That’s what happened to us, and you’ll be surprised to know how long ago it was. We had our ‘accident’ on April 29! It’s taken us this long to patch up the hole, plug up the boilers, stick chewing gum and friction tape over the leaks, and get this far.”

He tells her that they had been so severely damaged that they’d received the order to stand by to ababdon ship, but then the old girl stopped sinking and the Captain thought maybe they could save her. “It’s been a long, hard grind. We were towed from our rendezvous with the zeros 40 miles off the northeastern tip of Okinawa … to Kerama Retto, a group of small islands which gave shelter to an emergency repair base. There, we sweated out almost daily air attacks until June 19 when we set out for the States. …During the seven weeks in Kerama Retto, we put a wooden patch over a huge hole in our bottom, cut away some of the bent and twisted metal, and pumped out the flooded compartments.”

He continues the harrowing tale. “When a couple of floating dry-docks were smuggled in, we were patched with steel and dried out inside. Finally able to proceed under our own power, but badly crippled, we were sent out to escort some LST’s to Saipan. We stayed two days at that most beautiful island and continued to Guam, where I visited Fred. From Guam we limped…to Pearl Harbor, escorting a pair of banged-up CVE’s.”

After two days in Pearl Harbor, they left with another badly damaged “tin can” and spent a week getting to San Diego. The other destroyer looks to be in much worse condition because all of their damage is topside, which is easier to fix. The Haggard’s damage is below the waterline in the engine and fire rooms and constitutes very heavy damage. They’ve made it this far, but must proceed through the Panama Canal and up the east coast of the US.

He reports that all hands will receive 30 days leave, plus traveling time. A group of men who live near the west coast have already shoved off to begin their leave. Another party will depart as soon as they pull into Norfolk. He’ll be in the third group that will leave as soon as the west coast group returns. He should be starting sometime around September 1 and they can make their plans from there.

He was thrilled to get the long awaited letters from Ruth and Arthur Chamberlain today, and is gratified by their responses.

There was a little subterfuge needed regarding his visit with Fred. It was actually a planned visit, but since Dot knew Fred was in Guam, he couldn’t reveal that the ship was on their way there. It had to look like an impromptu visit.

His 17 letters waiting for him here were much better than the liberty. All he did was walk around, eat, and try to reach his family and family-to-be. Now, it’s back on the ship for the long journey east.

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It’s a brief and breathless letter from Dot today, written to Helen Peterson and Dart, Sr. It’s 1:00 AM and she can’t sleep with the excitement of their phone call and the news they gave her.

“Now you have proof that I’m an emotionally unstable individual. I humbly apologize for breaking into tears instead of peals of laughter, but I ask you, considering I was completely unprepared, I didn’t do too badly, do you think? No need in answering that question.”

She tells them there’ll be one very disappointed girl in her house if she awakes to find this was all a dream, but it somehow feels very real. “As I said at least 1,000 times on the phone, ‘Gee!'”

How those two parents must have grinned at her initial reaction during the phone call, and once again when they got her note.

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July 20, 1945

Well, the censors have taken a holiday. With the ship in US waters, there’s no need to monitor the outgoing letters. Dart takes advantage of the situation to write a news-filled six pages.

Although he’s happy to be sitting in a stateside port, he’s feeling very blue about missing his chance for a phone conversation with Dot. No doubt he’s been imagining that call ever since the Haggard pointed her bow toward home. He was hoping to hop ashore this morning, just long enough to try that call again, but word has been passed that no special liberty requests will be granted before they shove off.

Dart writes that for weeks, all the boys have been talking about their first liberty in the USA. “There was plenty of ‘women and liquor’ in their dreams. And almost every one of the men who went ashore yesterday realized their dreams. Fortified with salty sea stories, two years’ savings, a quart of Schenleys’, and the pent-up desires of many months away from home, they invaded the comparatively peaceful realm of Uncle Sugar Able.”

“After buying their pretty ribbons and polishing off their first pint or quart, they set out on the make for the first shapely miss they could find. By the time all got back aboard, fortunes had been lost, squandered, and stolen. The breath of most could have been ignited. The girls of the city now realize that there is a ship called the Haggard. Some boys had to be poured aboard. Have you ever seen a drunk so limber he could be dumped on his ship like a bucket of water? Yes, that first stateside liberty was a killer. Everything the boys expected and hoped for. (Nothing anybody prayed for, tho’. Nobody prays for things like that!)”

Then he writes a line that makes me smile – so like the Dad I knew. “When I left the ship with $25 in my pocket, I was one of the least wealthy; when I returned with $20, I was one of the fabulously rich. And I’d had every bit of the good time I’d looked forward to, except the sound of your voice.”

He tells Dot about news from classemates at Shaw that arrived with his stack of mail. He mentions another shore liberty he experienced a short time ago “in a large city, quite civilized and beautiful.” I wonder if that was in Honolulu? Then he turns his attention to answering the letters he received from Dot.

“Your six-page, built-to-order, limosine style letter of July 8, 9 is really a nifty one. Lots of swell material, but probably much like my own letters – not much which brings up any comment.”

He says he’ll get to work convincing his parents that they should visit her. If he’s on leave around Labor Day, he might be able to go up to Lake Sunapee with Dot and her father.

At this point, dinner is called for all hands, so he joins the mad scramble to the mess hall. When he returns, he raves for a couple of juicy paragraphs about the good, fresh food they got on board this morning – lots of fresh fruits and vegatables, which were a real treat after months at sea. “It surely takes prodigious quantities of food to keep a crew as large as ours fed well. And to keep them happily fed takes even more.”

He’s not sure how he’ll be able to tell her about all the places he’s been the way he writes about them. It often takes him a long time to find just the right word to put down on paper, so he fears he’ll stammer quite badly if he’s speaking the descriptions. Then he tells her that he wouldn’t bother writing to her letters like the ones she likes so well if he didn’t think she was saving them. “I don’t write that kind of letter to people who don’t appreciate them. If I get a useless, dry, uninteresting, newsless letter, I don’t take much pains in my reply. As a result, you, Mom and Pop and Fred get my best efforts. Fred said he’d scuttle some of his equipment in order to bring his letters home, if his baggage were limited.” I hope with all that’s in me that somehow Dad is aware that his letters survive, even today, for the enjoyment of a wider audience.

He truly hopes he can talk like Hite after years of marriage. “One thing he doesn’t do, but which irks me when I hear it, is to speak of his wife as ‘my old lady’. I like Hite’s expression, though. He says he’s writing to ‘my baby’s mother.'”

In answer to Dot’s inquiry, he writes that he doesn’t snore – at least no one has ever told him that he did. (That would change in later years when he achieved World Champion status for his nocturnal noises.) “But I’ve been having some mighty noisy nights this Summer. So have some others in my corner. We wake each other up screaming about once a week. Even that’s becoming less frequent.”

I guess no one escapes war unscathed.

Therer were no letters written by either Dart or Dot on the 21st, but Dart will return on July 22.

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July 22, 1945

A mail call prior to leaving port left Dart with Dot’s letter of July 17 to answer. The most pressing issue is the ring. He’ll follow her request and pick out the ring himself, if she’ll let him know quickly what size she wears. He reminds her that he knows no more about engagement rings than she does, but he’ll try to live up to her trust in his judgement.

Now, he offers a proposal of a different kind – his preliminary plans for how to spend his leave time. He suggests he go to Cleveland via Greenwich, stay there for as long as she wishes, within reason. Then, she could leave for college a week early and accompany him on the train back to Ohio, where she’ll stay with his folks until it’s time for her to report to Kent State.

He wonders if she’s heard of any travel restrictions for civilians on train trips of such a short distance as NYC to Cleveland. I suppose service members get top priority on the trains. He has some ideas about how they can get around the restrictions, if there are any.

He tells Dot that some of the most thrilling sights he’s seen “out here,” (then corrects himself to write “out there”) cannot be described adequately. He hopes he’ll find the words to either write about them or tell her. It seems that one of his biggest inspirations is the sheer size and power of the US Navy. He writes that it’s enough to fill several pages of manuscript.

Apparently deciding that there’s no time like the present, he begins now. “It seems that every port we enter, every cruise we take, every operation that we participate in, we see enough ships that we think most of the Navy must be right there at that time. From the far forward areas, step-by-step, base-by-base, we see ships. Warships, freighters, repair ships, supply ships, tenders, oilers. We see sidewalks and beaches and roads filled with sailors. We see big Navy trucks, hundreds of small boats, jeeps by the dozen. We see warehouses, barracks, offices, hospitals; all put up in great haste and in great numbers by our Navy. Navy planes fill the sky. They buzz around the carriers in great spirals, keep their distance until the one ahead is safely aboard, then each taking his turn to land. Huge four-motored Coronado flying boats take off and land with chest-filling noises, and fly overhead in long lines or great V-formations, like flocks of geese. Graceful, gull-winged Navy Mariners, two-motored flying boats, circle lazily over a lonely convoy far at sea, then disappear into the hazy distance. ”

“Everywhere it goes, the Navy takes over. Completely, thoroughly, with great show. The show isn’t one of flashing gold and shined shoes. It is one of dust and grime and water, of rawhide shoes, dungarees and tanned backs. Yet it retains enough of the Navy’s immutable tradition to make it ours, through and through.”

Now there’s a letter that will hold the Chamberlains spellbound around the dinner table!

But Dart would much rather see a sunset from a hilltop than a shiptop. All they need now is for the war to end so that he and Dot can continue the Sunapee honeymoon tradition begun by her parents.

He must end this letter to stand watch.

He is heading home. He’s as safe as one can be on a war ship in time of war. But he’s still a long way from holding his sweetheart in his arms again.

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