Dart admits he’s slacked off in the letter department, writing to neither his parents nor his sweetie for several days. He did, however finally get two airmails from the lovely lady in Greenwich, mailed two weeks apart but arriving on the same day.

The big news is that he has made reservations on a train for November 4, arriving in Cleveland late on the 7th. Depending on return transportation and when/where he is to report, he’ll have between 36 and 60 hours at home. (That’s if he actually gets a 9-day leave.)

He gives Dot the most complete instructions he can as to what train she should take from New York in order to arrive in Cleveland the same time he does. Unfortunately, he may not know until a couple of hours before his train is due to leave San Francisco whether or not he’ll be allowed to make the trip. Geesh! What a way to run a war – not even letting a fellow know in advance if he gets to go home before heading into battle!

Dart and four buddies attended a dance on Treasure Island this week. He mostly went for the food and the music, although he danced half a dance just to prove to the boys that he could. With great glee, he recited the long list of food he consumed that evening, making me wonder where he stores it all on that skinny frame.

He discussed his progress in winning the “battle of the bottle.” It’s not what you may think! The guys have finally accepted that he doesn’t drink and they mostly leave him alone about it now. Having established his reputation as a “weird character,” he can now happily accompany the group when they go to bars. However, he finds it easy to escape on his own when the gang stays longer than a couple of drinks. The way he sees it, his liberty is his time to have fun and he’s not yet found anything fun about parking his can on a bar stool and making a fool of himself.

He had two more tests this week. He knows he did well on one of them, based on a comment by the instructor, but he’s pretty sure he blew the second one. The equipment he’s studying is absurdly complex and he and the rest of the class are horribly confused by it all. They really feel the pressure of having to know it backwards and upside down when they are pressed into real service aboard ship in the midst of a battle.

He was very pleased with the romantic letter she wrote for that long-lost airmail. He tells Dot her technique is improving, writing that mushy stuff. In answer to a more recent letter, he has no idea what Dot should send Gordon for Christmas, because he’s not been out to sea yet and has no inkling what kinds of things the guys out there could use.

Commenting on the fireplace in Dot’s apartment at the Miller’s house, he says he’s always liked to sit in front of a fire, dreaming of a pretty girl’s head resting on his shoulder (and the owner of that head being wrapped in his arms!) His dream house would not be complete without a fireplace, he says. Flash forward 17 years, and the modest home Mom and Dad had built when I was a child did, indeed, have a lovely fireplace that they both enjoyed for many years.

Like Dot, he had a trip to the dentist recently. Also following her lead, he went to see “Going My Way” by himself and had a similar religious experience to hers.

Before signing off, he asks her what she meant when she said he wouldn’t recognize her when he saw her again. Good question, Dart. I’d like to know that, too.

In a bit of a coincidence, Dot also received two letters from her sweetie today. She’s so proud of his accomplishments in his classes. She can’t understand why he would gripe about a 92% (out of 95), but she supposes that he’s just used to doing well in school.

Responding to his question about whether her parents approve of their romance, Dot eagerly affirms that they most certainly do. Her father thinks Dart is just plain stupid to want Roosevelt for another four years, but the rest of his credentials are perfect, so Arthur has no other complaints.

Dot chastises Dart for being such a pessimist about his prospects in the war. “Why must you sound so morbid? I won’t allow myself to think you won’t come back, and I wish you’d do the same.”

Then, she makes a questionable choice in topics. She tells Dart about two women she works with who have received terrible news from the war office. The brother of one was killed in action and the husband of the other is a prisoner in Germany. Dot’s heart ached so much at their news that one would have thought she knew the men in question, but she’d never met them. She doesn’t know how either woman will go on.

Dot comments that it must have been wonderful for Dart to hear his parents’ voices when he called them recently. She’s sure they’ll want to see him before he leaves the country, no matter how short the visit might be. Dot offers a fervent prayer that the Navy will grant him a leave – especially one long enough to get home for a few days. It looks likes Dart’s potential leave will be a common subject in their letters for the next few weeks.

This letter that Dart starts while on phone duty speaks with a weary voice. There is a certain fatigue that comes through as he tells Dot about his daily grind. The course work is getting impossibly difficult. He bombed his most recent test, as did most of the class. He’s tired of studying and not learning the material quickly or well enough. He’s feeling down about all this fruitless work leading only to learning how to make war. He’s physically exhausted and he misses Dot.

He confesses that he wrote a letter the previous afternoon that he’s grateful he didn’t send. He said some things he would have regretted today and is a little ashamed of his complaints. Her letter that arrived today was like a balm – however brief – for his fatigue and his loneliness.

A good portion of this letter is given over to another technical description of the class material he needs to learn. Again, he has illustrated his description with drawings. Those of us for whom the computer age has become common place will enjoy this description of the complex on-board computer that controls all the guns aboard every US Navy ship. “The computers are located in the most protected part of the ship, safe (supposedly) from even a direct torpedo hit. They are box-like affairs, each about four feet high, five feet long and three feet wide. They’re made of heavy metal pieces, all bolted and fitted together to make them airtight so that the salt air does not corrode the tiny delicate mechanisms. They weigh three thousand pounds without any of the accessories which are usually attached. The computer has 27 cranks and knobs, and about 50 dials. All the dials are protected by heavy glass plates. … Each computer costs about 90 thousand dollars and is an inventor’s nightmare.”

The drawings of the computer brought to my mind a fond memory from my childhood. I don’t know if I’ve mentioned it, but Dad was a bit of a pack rat. He found all manner of things too interesting and potentially useful to throw out. One day, while we thought he was making some progress making order in the garage, he was actually involved in a project of whimsy and imagination.

He emerged at the end of the day with a large wooden box with a slanted side that functioned as some sort of control panel. Although it was made of scrap lumber from Dad’s stash, he had varnished it to a lovely sheen. Nestled in this control panel was an exotic collection of dials, gauges, switches and lights. Dad carried this curious object proudly into the house and placed it on the kitchen table. As everyone gathered around, drawn by the mischievous twinkle in his eye, Dad plugged the devise into a wall outlet. The lights glowed, the gauges sprang to life. He flipped a couple of switches, turned some dials, and proudly demonstrated his contraption.

“What is it?,” we asked. “What does it do?” He looked at each of us with a sly smile and shrugged his shoulders. “I’m not really sure,” he answered, “but I’m hoping it’s a Tootsie Roll finder.” He had spent hours assembling ancient detritus from various devices into a working model of…nothing! Just for the fun of it. I think we kept that funny old thing around the house until Mom and Dad moved into their retirement home years later.

At the end of the letter, Dart writes,”I must close now and maybe try to learn which knob turns which dials which way. (and why.) (and when.) Oh Lord, give me strength.”

He adds that he loves Dot very much, but is afraid he’s not been very good at showing it in the past week.

Dot writes a typically effervescent letter, beginning with an apology for not writing in such a long time. First came her trip into NYC, then an evening of preparing Gordon’s Christmas package for mailing in time to reach him in the South Pacific.

She settles in to tell Dart about her visit to the city. Three ladies from Franklin Simon went on the spree; Miss Cook from cosmetics, Miss McGowan from corsets and Miss Chamberlain from hosiery. After boarding the train, they talked of nothing except Dart. “I’ll bet they didn’t know what they were letting themselves in for when they asked me when and where I met you. I stopped talking when we got to Grand Central only to resume the conversation during dinner.”

The trio dined at the Stockholm and sampled authentic Swedish fare – pickled fish, cold cuts, various cheeses, relishes, vegetables, meat balls, bread, etc. And that was just the appetizer table! A full dinner followed and Dot was able to pack in much more, until it was time to leave for the show. They saw The Seventh Cross, which Dot found rather depressing, but she still liked it because it starred Spencer Tracy. Perhaps they went to Radio City Music Hall, because they seem to have seen both the movie and a live performance. They saw Horace Heidt in person, along with his whistler (?), Fred Lowry, who, incidentally, is blind. Fred whistled Ave Maria while the chorus sang.

Dot thoroughly enjoyed the evening, which cost her nothing other than her train ticket.

Her final paragraph proclaims that she will say no more about the election because she wants no misunderstandings between the two of them. That should put the entire topic to rest on both sides (until after the election, perhaps).

Dart begins this 8-page letter with two of his favorite themes;  pessimism about his performance on upcoming tests, and a detailed dissertation of the inner workings of a piece of equipment he’s studying.

On the former, he’s hoping his 94% average will carry him through  as he crashes and burns in the waning weeks of the class. As for the latter, let’s just say he’s developing an obsession with knobs.

The weekend is upon him, but he has no liberty. In addition to studying and the ever-present task of washing clothes, he hopes to tackle a stack of letters that need to be answered. His list of correspondents is long, including several of his high school buddies who are serving all over the world. He wants to take particular care to write to the guys fighting in France.

After an interruption, he resumes the letter to talk about the death of Wendell Willkie. He seems particularly saddened by the loss of this great American, whom he believes was unfit to be president, but was a courageous and moral leader.

As he writes high atop his bunk, he can see Dot’s photo smiling at him from the locker below. “Oh, how I want to see that face on you instead of a photograph! The Navy just can’t let us down, Dot. It wouldn’t be right! But what’s right about war?” He then asks her to promise him that if he manages to get home, she’ll not cry when it’s time for him to leave. “We can’t be sad this time. This is for sure the last time for many months – perhaps a year or more – that we’ll see each other. I’ll be so happy to be home with Mom and Dad and you that I’ll be tempted to cry out of sheer joy and relief.”

He asks Dot to give his condolences to the women at work who have lost a brother and a husband to the war. He poses a question he’s been pondering for a while: whether it is better for a couple to get engaged or married before the man goes off to war, or if they should have no specific plans other than their love for each other. He knows that among his former classmates who have perished, most of them were engaged or married and the women they left behind are devastated. Ultimately, he concludes that the pain suffered is the same, whether they are formally committed or not.

He winds up the letter on a lighter note, congratulating her on her sales success and orders her to get rid of her cold and stay healthy. He’s also curious to know if she has any way of listening to records.  Naturally, he declares his love.

In contrast to Dart’s tome, Dot jots off a wee note before bedtime. Although she has 19 letters from friends and family she’s decided to let them go unanswered another day while she lives her motto: Don’t bother to do today what can just as well be put off until _____.

She’s decided to break her streak and attend church with her mother tomorrow. She hasn’t been since before Dart’s visit last summer, so she needs the practice.

According to her calendar, Dart is due to graduate in three weeks. That means he could be home three weeks from next Tuesday. Like him, the potential leave seems to be all she can think about these days.

She tells him to do well on his tests and to take an extra swim for her. She’ll try to write a longer letter tomorrow.

Dart writes a short, leisurely letter on a long, lazy Sunday. He describes a perfect California day when the sun shines brightly and the water and the distant mountains are the same shade of deep blue-green. Most of the guys in Dart’s unit are spending the day with their visiting wives, so Dart has some time to himself.

He finished his laundry yesterday, and today he must attack that stack of letters he owes folks. But before he begins, he takes a moment to daydream of driving his family’s green chariot all over town when he and Dot are together next month. (Fingers crossed!) He imagines they will use up far more than the nine gallons of gas rations he’ll receive for his leave. He also sees no point in them wasting any time sleeping during his brief visit. There’ll be plenty of time to sleep on the return train.

Dot’s letter matches Dart’s, both in brevity and in subject matter. She too waxes poetic about the beautiful, sparkling weather. For her, all the evening lacks is a large yellow moon, but she can dream it into place.

She can also daydream about Dart’s leave, admitting that she will be a “sad case” if the Navy does them wrong.

She mentioned going to church this morning and missing the preaching of the regular pastor. Dan Bliss is on a leave from the church to serve as an Army chaplain, but no one can adequately fill his shoes in the Second Congregational Church pulpit.

Dot talked with her parents today about leaving the Miller’s house and moving back home. The job is fine, but she ends each day exhausted. They, naturally told her it was her decision. She guesses she’ll stick it out a few more weeks.

No letters tomorrow, but Dart writes on the 17th.