Dart’s only consolation today was a single letter from Dot. From his response to the letter, I can tell it’s one I have never read, so it must have been lost at some point. I feel a little pang of sadness when I find out about a missing letter, but then I remind myself how lucky my family is to have the hundreds of letters that have survived. I’ll try to be a big girl about the occasional missing epistle.

Dot posed the interesting question of what color Dart doesn’t like. He says he can’t think of any particular color that displeases him, but anything that looks good on her is okay with him. I wonder if we’ll discover what prompted that question.

It seems that Dot may have a shot at a buyer’s job. Dart says it sounds both interesting and like a lot of hard work. He’s impressed with the retail skills she’s learned at Andrews.

He’s running out of things to say and must end this letter to write to his parents. “I’m spoiling you people because there’ll be times I can’t write daily. But now- all my love, every day, always.

Dot’s letter today is mostly about not having anything to say. She wrote about going to the 3rd floor to study the whole afternoon because she has the first of three notebooks due for Miss Hutton. The she mentions the radio program she and the girls like to listen to on their Sunday afternoons. After that riveting revelation she writes, “My roommate just glanced at the preceding paragraph and remarked at the boringness of it…I have nothing to write about!”

“They just announced over the radio that if you don’t write, you’re wrong. So what’s a poor girl with nothing to write about s’posed to do?”

“Having wasted a page discussing why this letter is so boring, I shall now proceed to commenting about the weather. It’s lovely.”

She finally threw in the towel and stopped trying to write. She urged Dart to write to her, though. “You can always write about your past, but my past isn’t worth talking about.”

Dart’s letter begins with the premise that it will not be a masterpiece, but there is some good news to report. He was permitted to sit on the edge of the bed with his feet on a chair for 30 minutes today. That’s his first time sitting up for that long in 45 days! His back is tired from the experience because he has gotten so weak, but he is thrilled to get to this milestone.

He descibes his luck at receiving one of the new “surgical beds” – with the capability of raising both the head and the feet. Without that, he would have been lying flat for all these weeks. How amusing to think that was a new-fangled invention in 1944, and has been commonplace in hospitals since shortly after that.

He’s eager to see the dress Dot is making which is depriving him of long letters from her.

He says he’s doing his best to get well in time for a March 17th leave, but he has his doubts. It is rumored to take about a week to get all the permissions and forms completed for a sick leave. Now he’d be so weak that if he did get leave, he’d have to spend it at home, resting, instead of out with Dot. That does not keep him from planning how he’s going to use his dad’s car and the extra gas rations he’ll be allotted for the leave.

A letter from his mother said that his Case roommate, Tom Reilly and his Marine buddy, Fred had both dropped by for a  visit with Dart’s parents. How nice of these young men, home for such a brief time, to check in with parents of a friend.

He winds up the letter confirming that it was no masterpiece, but that “idle chatter” could be a nice form of conversation.

Dot’s long letter – begun in English class after a punctuation test – is typically chatty. She received a 95% on the test and continued her letter later in the day.

She remarked that housemother, Mrs. Woodworth, hadn’t been home all day and her door was locked. House residents could hear her phone ringing incessently, but could not get to it. The thought that it could be someone with an emergency need to reach one of the girls was driving Dot crazy. How odd that there was a) only one phone in the place, b) it was locked away from nearly everyone, and c) there was no other way to contact the house. That would surely never fly in today’s world!

Dot must have done something wrong with that roll of film Dart gave her, because there were no pictures on it. She’s decided to send him some older photos of her family instead. She’s not surprised that he thinks her 3-year old niece, Toni Gale, is cute. Apparently all the men think so.

The letter was interrupted while Dot completed her sweeping chore for the second time that day. Then she talked about a crazy radio program about a quirky family called the “Bumsteads.” I wonder if that was based on the Blondie commic strip, or maybe the strip came from the radio show…

Dart was happy to receive two fine letters from Dot today. He was also happy to report that he is writing to her once again from a sitting position, and his back doesn’t hurt like it did yesterday.

He apologizes for dashing her spirits about his “pending” leave. He was foolish enough to believe the words of the medical staff when they predicted how soon he’d be going home. In turn, he inadvertently misled Dot.

Since she messed up the film he’d sent her, he asks her to “introduce” her family to him by describing what they look like. He also repeats his request for a billfold-sized picture of her pretty self.

She has apparently written to him of her plans to visit Michigan over her Easter break, and he spends a paragraph guessing which route she’ll take to get there. He’s sure she’ll have lots of fun, and equally sure he won’t get a letter from her during her visit.

There is a brief musing over which church he’ll attend when he is back in Cleveland. His childhood church was the Methodist one, but when he left home, he began attending the Congregational Church and liked it quite well. He has friends at both, so he’ll just have to see which one “wins.”

He discusses his favorite Sunday afternoon classical radio programs – none of which are played in a Navy hospital. He also describes the bitter, blustery weather raging outside his ward. He reminds her that he is still sporting his curly red whiskers. His aunts are trying to convince him to wear the “gruesome appendage” home. In fact, one aunt sent him a little kit that included wax, oil, pomade and perfume that smells of whiskey after she read of some famous men who groom their facial hair with such things!

There’s nothing much more to say, except that every time he hears some good news, he thinks how happy it will make Dot to hear it. He confesses how wonderful it is that someone like her exists and likes him so much.

Dot’s theme is “No Letter Today,” even though she received one that wasn’t from him. His are the ones she wakes up looking forward to and isn’t satisfied until she returns to her house at the end of the day and finds one waiting for her.

She heard from her Marine pen pal. They seem to have an ongoing argument about the Navy VS the Marines, and Dot believes the Navy always wins.

She finds it difficult to write when there is no new letter to answer. Plus, she’s listening to Bob Hope in the background and cannot concentrate on her writing. She closes with the announcement that Ronald Coleman was wonderful in last night’s production of “Everything for the Boys.” (Radio show?)

Dart’s letter begins innocuosly enough, with him thanking Dot for her letter and the gum. More small talk follows about his tendency to be as easily embarrassed as Dot’s housemate Evelyn, and his color improving since he’s been up out of bed.

But then comes the bad news. First, his thigh has swollen up again, and he’s been ordered back to bed, with foot elevated and still. Then, the doctor told him it would be many more weeks of convelescence before he could leave the hospital. When Dart asked about his sick leave, the doctor tersely informed him that he did not approve of sick leaves, nor would he sign Dart’s application for one! “Naturally, I feel like committing mayhem around here. Today marks exactly 105 days, 15 weeks, in hospitals.”

His hopes of seeing Dot on March 24th have been crushed. In fact, he may not be discharged until after she has returned to Greenwich for the summer. If that is the timing of his leave, he may not see her again until the war is over! I can scarcely bear to think about the pain and disappointment this news must have caused these two young people.

He wonders if his news will distress Dot to the point of not wanting to write to him anymore. He even suggests that she find another date for her April prom, adding the wistful request that if, by some miracle, he could get to Cleveland by then, she drop the other fellow and go to the prom with him. One can only guess what it must have cost Dart to write that paragraph, but I think he felt honor-bound to give Dot an out.

Declaring that he was too blue to write a decent letter, he decides to switch over to answering hers. The most endearing part was when he mentioned Dot’s little niece, Toni Gale and Dot’s suggestion that he might want to wait fot her to grow up. “Toni Gale is really a cute little gitl. However, I don’t think I’ll wait for her to grow up. It will be a long enough time for you to become 21 and fancy free. And, to put it mildly, you’re a pretty good choice, as far as I can see now.”

In answer to Dot’s question, he reports that his father never complained about damage to the car after their date when Dart allowed Dot to shift gears on the old Ford. “Those horrible noises it made that night were only its purring gratitude for a good ‘roughing-up’.”

Dart reveals that he’s never been a fan of the Bumsteads radio program because of the noise and chaos it embodies. He loves the “Blondie” comic strip, however.

He congratulated Dot on her good score for the punctuation test and bragged that he made only one punctuation error in his 6500 word term paper!

Claiming that he can’t stay blue for very long, especially after telling his troubles to someone, he urges Dot not to take his news too badly, and to keep her chin up.

Dot thanks Dart for the two letters she received today and commented on the mix-up he wrote about where he received a letter from a friend of his. Unfortunately, the friend had put a letter to his folks in Dart’s envelope and, presumably Dart’s letter into his folks’ envelope. Dot feigned shock that Dart and his pals might use language a bit too salty for parents to read. “But then, I guess you’d be rather shocked if you heard some of us slip up once in awhile. Especially the flaxen-haired, blue-eyed innocent (looking) girls around here.”

She had not realized until Dart’s report that Negro and white sailors were housed in the same wards in Navy hospitals. She comments that although the Negro Dart described didn’t sound too pleasant, “There are ever so many repulsive whites, too, so we have little room to talk.”

She explained that she will receive a report card this week, and seems to dread it. She described the citizenship grades she gets which score her on a myriad of points, both in the cottage and in classes.

Announcing she is in a foul mood, she decides to close before depressing him.

Not much news in Dart’s brief letter today. He was a little surprised to learn Dot had missed hearing from him one day earlier in the week because he has written every day. His mother also reports an irregularity in the postal delivery. He tells Dot that if he misses writing to her one day, he’ll be sure to tell her the next, so they’ll know if any letters have been lost in the mail.

He finally confesses that after all the talk of Dot’s crush on actor Ronald Coleman, Dart has no idea who he is. With some gentle ribbing, however, he says that his mother mentioned being fond of Ronald when she was young. He then lists his crushes as Katharine Hepburn, Roz Russell and several others. He acknowleges that they are “out of reach,” but hopes Dot is not entirely so.

He mentions that it’s been a very long time since he’s heard from the Catholic girl who was writing to him. Her last letter told him to never again start a letter to her with “Dearest Dot.” Although he has written to explain things, no word from Jeanne. He doesn’t appear to be too upset by the development.

It seems that brief letters are the style today. Dot begins with a couple of paragraphs that she composed as a typing exercise. She still needs lots of practice.

Next, she hand wrote an addendum, still with not much to say. To pad the envelope a bit, she included a drawing she did of an Andrews girl at 6:30 AM.

She signed the letter “More love, and it’ll keep coming ’til you say ‘whoa!'”

There are several inconsequential tidbits in Dart’s letter, including his father’s reports about all the blizzards Cleveland has been seeing.

Dart told a cute story about the nurse, Miss Meany, who always brings him his mail. She hands him his letters from everyone except Dot. Then she asks, “Did you write to her last night?” If he did, she gives him Dot’s letter. If he says he didn’t, she says “She’s too good for you, Peterson,” and gives him the letter anyway.

He also reports that his beard is gone. There was a big inspection of the hospital that included a large band of “brass.” (As opposed to a brass band.) One of the officers stopped at Dart’s bedside to ask if he had grown the beard “on purpose.” (Said with a grin and a wink.) Dart’s doctor was angry and mortified. After the tour, the doctor returned and ordered Dart to get rid of it, so he had no choice. Dart tells the story better, so it’s best to read it in his own words.

He signed “All my love to the sweetest girl ever,” and then added a P.S. that his leg swelling went down again and he was ordered to sit at the edge of his bed. He then signed “More of all my love.”

I absolutely LOVE this letter from Dot! It’s her response to Dart’s recent news about his poor health, vanishing sick leave, and his advice that she invite someone else to her prom. There isn’t a trace of “Woe is me.” No hint of “Why this? Why now? Why me?”

She begins by telling him how lucky he is, if he must be sick, that he is safe and sound in the USA. No “Jap sniper” shooting at him. He has pretty nurses, skilled doctors and free medical care to save his family a significant expense.

She adds “Please don’t think for one minute that I favor the idea of not seeing you again ’til God knows when, for I promise you there is no one I would rather see. But no matter how you look at it, we’re always a little better off than some poor soul and have a great deal to be thankful for. Something tells me we should keep our faith in the Navy, ‘cuz they’ve none an awful lot of wonderful things, too.”

Who wouldn’t love a girl with that kind of positive spirit? And what fills my heart most is that I know she would say the same thing now. Except for rare periods in her life, my mother has always been not a “glass half-full” gal, but a “cup runneth over” type who carries gratitude with her into almost every situation. Keep looking on the bright side, Mom, as you did when you were just a girl.

She scolds Dart for suggesting she find another date because there is no one else worth dating. She also takes mild offense to the suggestion that she may not want to write to him any more because he’s been so sick for so long. “In my mind, that’s all the more reason why and should (and will) write. ..It’ll take a lot more than an few weeks in the hospital to get rid of me, so if you’re planning to, be prepared for a long, hard fight.”

She turns to the task of responding to his more recent letters. She feigns being intimidated by writing to the genius who has such perfect punctuation. She explains that she prefers to print because she thinks her printing looks better than her writing. “The only reason I write once in awhile is so I’ll know how to endorse my checks every week from M-G-M.”

She has enclosed some snapshots of her parents to introduce Arthur and Ruth Chamberlain to Dart, and she promises to send photos of the rest of her family soon.

She encourages him to keep trying his best to get well and to keep his chin up.

This letter from Dart has an ominous statement in the first paragraph. He says he is behind in his correspondence because he’s been feeling lousy all day. I get nervous when that happens because I wonder what ailment will befall him next.

His bed has been moved a dozen feet or so and now he is among “college types” like pilots, cadets, etc. They are having a lively discussion tonight on the future state of astronomy, so he cuts his letter short and sends Dot his love.

Dot is racing to get her letter finished before dinner so her friend can mail on her trip to the post office. She’s planning to try an experiment by sending her Thursday letter Special Delivery on Friday morning so that Dart will receive it on Saturday. She really wants him to get mail every day.

She sent Dart a photo of his favorite “pin-up” girl, Katharine Hepburn. She tells him he can swoon over the picture 24 hours every day, as long as he gives Dot at least one minute of his thoughts.

Then she tells him at at the end of the Fred Waring show every night at 10:15, she thinks about Dart, wondering if he’s sleeping, how his day went, if he thinks about her. She asks that he join her in her moment of meditation to see if there’s anything to this mental telepathy thing.

Well, she didn’t finish the letter in time to get it mailed, but she sends her love, nonetheless.