December 29, 1944

15. December 1944, Dart's Letters

This letter was written from Treasure Island, Dart’s pre-embarkation point. He arrived this morning and the place feels like home, even though everyone is confined behind a high barbed-wire fence with no phones or letters allowed. The men appreciate the quality of Treasure Island chow, especially since the entire huge draft is suffering some intestinal distress from something they ate yesterday at Shoemaker.

“We are here for ___ hours, so unless those hours are lengthened, this will be my last letter for sometime, and those to follow will have to conform with the whim of the censuring officers.”

He tells Dot that all letters posted from the barracks here will be held for six days before being released to their destination. Somewhere around January 10, she’ll be getting word of today’s happenings.

Dart, as always, finds  the right tone to describe his thoughts as he pens his last letter from the USA. I’ll include it here, verbatim.

“I wish now I could think of all the things I wanted to say in this letter. For a last States-side letter, this seems rather ineffectual. I wanted to mention the beautiful moon of last night when I looked at it and hoped you were watching it, too. It would have been beautiful on a snowy carpet, or coming through a window into a room where the only other light came from a crackling fire and the glow of two pairs of eyes. (Ours?)”

“This is a poor time for regrets, but I guess it’s natural to regret having so little time together. I’m happy and thankful, though, that I have you waiting for me, and that we had even our small days together. To know that his love and respect is returned is one of the greatest consolations a man (or boy) can have when he leaves his country and the girl he loves and respects.”

“So, my Darling, it is with this that I close one chapter of my life and open another. Peterson the boy is slowly leaving, and in his place, Peterson the man is slowly and painfully coming into being. I’m always looking forward to coming home and ‘growing up together’ with you.”

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December 30, 1944

15. December 1944, Dart's Letters, Dot's Letters

Dart is still confined at Treasure Island. The Navy has a rule that men can only be held in the pre-embarkation barracks for 72 hours. That leaves just 42 hours until they must be returned to Shoemaker to begin their wait all over again, or be loaded onto transports.

Everyone is over their intestinal disturbance caused by Shoemaker’s horrific food. When they’re not standing in long lines for the superior chow at Treasure Island, they’re getting a little “sack duty.” I guess there’s not much else to be done but sleep while they await the next step of their adventure.

Dart transferred all his photos, accounts and identification into his new billfold today. Now he requests that Dot send more pictures to fill up the empty slots.

Recalling Dot’s practice of stepping on discarded Lucky cigarette packages for luck, he tells her that the only brand of cigarettes available here are Luckies. She has his mother and even Lefty jumping all over the place to stomp on the things. Doesn’t anyone throw things in the trash?

He ends by asking her to imagine a million of these pages filled with “I love you.” That’s how much he does.

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Dot’s last letter of 1944 is one of her joyful, effervescent ones, full of happy reminiscing and high praise for Dart.

When Janie spent the night with her yesterday, all they talked about from midnight until 3:00 was Dart – how funny and smart and handsome he is. Dot read Janie some of his funniest letters, like the one he wrote when he came so close to getting a leave and then missed out, or the time he cut out a string of paper dolls to prove he had gone nuts being in the hospital for so long. Dot wonders how he can think up so much funny material, but I’d say she can hold her own in the humor department.

She agrees that the snapshots he sent of himself are not the best she’s seen, but she’s happy to have them. It looks like the photographer was lying on the floor to take them, but Dart is looking straight at the camera, so she likes that.

The store gave staff an unexpected day off today and Dot had the blissful experience of sleeping until 10:00 in the morning. Tonight, Janie’s dad, Uncle Ralph took his family and Dot to dinner and a movie. Although “Winged Victory” was about the Air Corps and not the Navy, Dot enjoyed it anyway.

When she came home from the movie, she hung out in El and Betty’s room, talking more about Dart. “I wonder how many times I’ve told people how we met and how I fell for you – Bingo – just like that. It must be in the millions by this time. And yet, with each retelling, I get the same thrill I got when all of it was actually happening. I can remember certain things you said and be almost as happy as when we were together and you were saying them.” She goes on to recall the details of their few dates – her kicking a leaf under the sofa in her dorm, the young sailors from Case who were so proud of their new GI raincoats, the first kiss Dart gave her at her friend’s house. “I want to sing and shout and let the world share my happiness.”

She gets a little philosophical about the current state of the world. There are men and women who are building instruments of destruction and others who are perfecting drugs that can heal a wounded soldier so that he can go back to battle to be injured again. “War is something I have never understood, and God grant that it doesn’t last long enough for me to learn to understand it.”

Perhaps feeling a need to lighten the mood, she asks Dart if he’s begun his list of New Year’s resolutions. “My list is only begun, but at the top is ‘I highly resolve to love Dart for the rest of my life.'” I

Tomorrow night, Dot will be babysitting for the Miller children, but she’ll have company. Her new friend Nancy Lou Clapps invited herself over to help with the kids and have a little party once they’re in bed. Both girls will bring some Cokes and their record collections. When Dot asked Nancy why she wanted to spend New Year’s Eve that way, Nancy said. “I just love to hear you talk about Dart! You get so enthusiastic and your sparkle so.”

She wraps up with the news that every day she loves him twice as much as she did the day before. Then she advises him not to get sea sick.

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December 31, 1944

15. December 1944, Dart's Letters

Dart begins, “New Year’s Eve, and the eve of a truly new year.” His time at Treasure Island is growing short. There’s a special muster scheduled for about an hour from the writing of this letter, at which rampant rumors will be confirmed or dispelled. The rumor is that they’ll all be sent to either destroyers or destroyer escorts to replace veteran crews. You may recall that these are small ships – destroyers nicknamed “tin cans.” Dart had been “promised” a battleship or an aircraft carrier by a guy at Shoemaker who supposedly had a hand in assignments. But there’s no complaining from Dart today. He, like the other men in this draft are just eager for any news about their destiny. In fact, any announcement is greeted with cheers, simply because everyone is hungry for information.

But those aren’t the only cheers being heard at Treasure Island today. I’ll let Dart tell you in his own words.

“But today we heard the cheers of a different kind. Cheers of war -weary men setting their feet on the soil of this land they left many months ago. A harbor ferry brings them from the transports to the island, where they are outfitted with new clothing and from where they leave on their ‘vacations.'”

“It’s really a thrilling, happy sight to see those men arriving. They all look lean, tan, and healthy and their eager eyes drink in all the beauty of the Bay. They gaze with wide-open wonder at this, their country, and they’re glad to be back. ”

“This may be my last letter for a month and there may be one more. But whether it’s the last or there are a million more, always remember that I love you, and I have loved you since I met you, and I want to love you all through our lives after the war. I don’t care what the rest of the world is fighting for, but I’m fighting for us, for the right and ability to get home, get a job and an education and a home, and above all, to be married to you.”

There was a post script to this letter, telling Dot that the special muster was simply to announce a free movie night for all the pre-embarkment men. Dart declined the opportunity and instead washed some clothes and reflected on New Year’s Eves from his past.

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January 1, 1945

16. January 1945, Dart's Letters, Dot's Letters

Dart’s letter reads a little like last-minute instructions before leaving on a trip; I guess that’s exactly what it is. After noon chow tomorrow, he’ll be boarding a ferry that will take him to the troop transfer ship. The good news is that he will probably be a “passenger” on a brand new transport vessel. It’ll be squeaky clean, with great dining and laundry facilities and handy storage to keep his belongings with him.

He gives Dot another new address to use until he gets his ship assignment. He advises that she be prepared to write quickly when these last couple of letters arrive in Greenwich if her letters are to reach him in a reasonable time frame. Already it’s been three days since he’s received any mail and even longer since hearing from Dot. It feels more like a millennium to him.

He’ll not be allowed to mention the name of his ship in the letters, or even what type of ship he’s on. However the name will be in his mailing address and the type of ship will be encoded in initials in the same place. Dot can get a little booklet at the dime store to look up what the initials represent. He’ll try to put stamps upside down to signal “I love you,” and he’ll talk about Tonsilectomy if he can get it by the censors, but he’ll no longer be allowed to put any coded messages inside the envelopes.

He’s decided to forego any mention of how much he loves her and misses her because it might make him sound homesick and full of longing. “I am, but why make the letter sound like it?”

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Dot’s first letter of the year is a rushed little note saying she has no time to write, but wants to wish him a happy new year. She’ll try to write him a longer letter tomorrow to bring him up to date on how her holiday weekend has been going. Until then, she sends wishes that 1945 will be the best year of his life – so far.

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January 2, 1945

16. January 1945, Dot's Letters

In her usual chipper, playful style, Dot describes for Dart her New Year’s activities. On the 31st, she and her pal Nancy babysat for Chris and Eric Miller. After the boys were in bed, the girls listened to their records on the Miller’s “automatic Victrola,” feasted on ice cream, Cokes, and potato chips, talked about Dart, and danced. Dot spent the whole time dancing with Dart, and she must say that he’s ‘greatly improved.’ Neither of them stepped on the other’s toes. Still, she prefers to hold him when he’s not encased in a leather picture frame.

At the stroke of midnight, they went out onto the porch and sang a couple of songs and Dot played a few notes on her new sweet potato. To bed by 2:30 and up at 8:00 to feed the boys and Toni Gale, who had also spent the night there.

Dot went home for a breather, but returned in the afternoon so the Millers could attend another party. After a night at home, she was up again early to go to work. That’s all she can say on that subject because she has resolved to use less profanity in 1945.

This evening, Dot took herself to see “Double Indemnity,” which was not to her liking. In fact, it didn’t do the intended trick of making her stop feeling sorry for herself. You see, she’s fallen in love with a sailor who’s a thousand miles away and she wishes he were here.

The other day, Dot bought the record “‘Til Then.” The flip side was “You Only Hurt the Ones You love,” which is Nancy’s favorite. Both songs got plenty of play during their New Year’s Eve party, but Dot has a little problem with Nancy’s favorite; she doesn’t think it’s true. She and Dart certainly love each other, yet she’s never intentionally hurt Dart, nor has he hurt her. She’s sure that state will continue throughout their lives. She’s happy they’ve never had a quarrel and hopes they can always make that claim.

Off to bed for this busy, sleepy girl.

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January 3, 2015

16. January 1945

No letters were written by either party on this day 70 years ago, but I wanted to tell a little story about a brief conversation I had last week with my mother.

She was visiting us over Christmas, and had logged on to this blog early in the morning, eager to read Dart’s letter of that day. She made the comment that she was dreading this period when he was about to go off to war because she remembers how hard it was to go weeks without hearing from him. She wasn’t looking forward to reliving those days through long gaps in the blog.

I assured her that there would be no long gaps. I will continue to post letters on the day they were written – not when they were received. Since both our young correspondents were quite faithful in writing to each other often, the gaps will be only a few days, at most.

During the month of January 1945, Dot wrote on 13 days and Dart on 10. He was, of course, at sea during most of that time and she was keeping her usual busy schedule. The censors on Dart’s ships had something to say about how many letters each man on board could write. (Imagine having to read letters penned by hundreds of men every day, excising from each one any detail that might put the ship in danger.) For Dot’s part, it must have been challenging to come up with new things to write about when she had nothing new from Dart to respond to. Still, I think they did a fabulous job keeping things going during this difficult time.

I love to imagine those glorious days when each of them received a large bundle of letters from their beloved. Did they thrill to the sight of the cherished handwriting on the envelopes? Did they sniff a letter or two in an attempt to discern any trace of their loved one’s scent or surroundings? Did they rip them open randomly and hungrily devour the words on the pages, or did they sort them chronologically by postmarks, steal away to a private corner with a favorite beverage, and savor each one like a soothing opiate?

Whatever their method, I can only assume that each surge of mail brought a flood of joy and relief as well as a fresh bout of longing and loneliness. In our age of instant communication, could we weather sustained periods of zero contact with a loved one whom we knew was very likely in harm’s way? How miraculous that we never need to.

January 4, 1945

16. January 1945, Dart's Letters, Dot's Letters

Dart’s letter, sent from an undisclosed location, chats about his recent dinner with two Ensigns and their wives and a movie he saw, but I can’t make out what it all means. Has he left the country? Is he on a ship or in a port somewhere?

The last couple of sentences out of the 10 or so that make the entire letter are particularly perplexing. “This morning, we go back to the yard for ten day’s availability. More trouble, of a more serious nature. Must chase off to run checks on our guns.”

Perhaps this will all be cleared up in future days.

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Dot writes this rather long, lazy letter while at work in a nearly deserted store. It’s so dead that there’s not much to write about.

The family received five letters from Gordon yesterday, the most recent mailed on December 23. As of that date, he had received none of the eight packages they’d mailed him for Christmas. He wrote that the ship’s carpenter had crafted a plywood Christmas tree for the men’s enjoyment. Gordon said that he would be able to endure this Christmas so far from home by living on his memories of last Christmas surrounded by his family in Greenwich. “And to think I got homesick when I was at Andrews! I should be ashamed.”

It’s already driving her nuts not to hear from Dart every day. She supposes she’ll get used to it eventually, but she’s not happy about it. Then she thinks of her co-worker, Mrs. Crowley, who hasn’t heard from her son in over three years. He’s a prisoner in a Japanese camp and she recently got word that he’d been transferred from the Philippines to Tokyo.

She includes a silly paragraph about the store being so slow that they wouldn’t know what to do if a customer happened to walk in. Then she says that he should forgive her silliness. She’s in the mood to write a long letter, but since there’s no news, she must fill in the pages with nonsense “that would sound much better if left unsaid.”

Dot has convinced Mr. Goldstein to write Dart a letter. He was in the Navy during the last war as a Fireman 1/c (first class). To hear him tell it, being Fireman 1/c is the next best thing to being President. Quips Dot, “Most Firemen I have met could do a much better  job being president than that guy in there now.” She then asks Dart if he’s sure her letters are not run past the censors, because if they are, that last line will certainly be cut.

Mr. Goldstein just handed her the note he wrote to include in this letter. She hopes Dart can make out more than she can. Since Bob Goldstein is not much for writing letters, she says Dart must be pretty special to get a personal note from him.

She must stop now or she’ll have to make things up to fill in the letter. She tells Dart to wear his rubbers and write when he can. I assume she’s referring to galoshes.

There were no letters written on January 5, so I’ll meet you back here on the 6th.

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January 6, 1945

16. January 1945, Dot's Letters

Here’s another light-hearted offering from Dot, short on news, but long on affection.

She says she spends a lot of time wondering where he is and what he’s doing. She guesses she’ll be wondering a mighty long time. She asks for his promise that when this war is over and they’re sitting in front of that big fireplace they plan for their home, he’ll tell her about his ocean voyage and what the guys talked about to pass the time. She’ll also tell him what she talked about that kept her roommates awake all night. “By the time I tell you, it will have become a reality and no longer ‘just talk.'”

She asks how he likes the big ocean. “Do they heave out the anchor on your lunch hour so all the boys can take a dip; or do they just throw out tow ropes for you to hang on to as you glide along? Even though you’re on a ship, it is possible to travel ‘by rail’ you know, or haven’t you been sea-sick?” I love this little paragraph. It makes me smile to think of a Navy ship arranging a pleasant outing so the “boys” can have a little swim time during their lunch break, like a boat picnic on a lake. I can also envision a few greenish young men hugging the ship’s railing as they heave their stomach contents ,”riding the rail.”

She hopes this reaches him by his birthday and that he has an extra special one. She seems pretty impressed that he’ll be 21. She’s glad he was still underage in November or he would have voted for the wrong candidate. She hopes to have enough influence over him by the next election that he’ll change his political views. As it turned out, the political leanings of these two kids grew to be very similar over the years. Ironically, they both ended up much more closely aligned to Dart’s current views than Dot’s.

Tonight Dot saw “When Irish Eyes Are Smiling” with the girls. If he happened to catch a whiff of something foul, it was the movie. The lead singer looked and sounded like Frank Sinatra, who for some reason Dot detests. That’s another of her youthful opinions that was subject to change in later years.

Her mother stopped by Franklin Simons today and one of Dot’s co-workers told Ruth that she can always tell if Dot got a letter from Dart when she went home on her lunch break. “She’s getting to be able to tell by the color of my cheeks and the twinkle in my eye whether or not I’ve been talking about you. When it shows that much, it just has to be love!”

She tells Dart that if the Navy could build a ship big enough to carry all her love, it would make the Queen Mary look like a life raft. Tonsillectomy sends her regards and promises to write when she’s caught up on her studies.

Once again, there are no letters tomorrow, but on January 8th, both Dot and Dart return.

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January 8, 1945

16. January 1945, Dart's Letters, Dot's Letters

Dart writes that there is a lot of “stuff” going on that he can’t write about because it would be cut to ribbons by the censors.

He writes that there’ll be so much to talk about after this war is over, but he thinks it might be best for them to forget there was a war or a Navy keeping them from leading the normal, happy lives of two kids in love.

He says he uses the term “kids” because he  has heard from several happily married couples, both young and old, that as long as they feel that love, they remain young and happy in spirit.

“Say, this sounds like a lot of over-rich marmalade, doesn’t it? I better stop now and let the memories of a precious few hours together and a precious few million tender words in letters take over until next time.”

Gee, all of this is very pretty, but I’m sure Dot is eager for details. Looks like she’ll be cultivating a lot of patience in the coming months.

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Dot writes a quick note telling Dart that she and her new friend Nancy went ice skating today. There was a four-inch snowfall on the ice, so they had to shovel it all off before they could begin skating. They were out in the snow and cold for over two hours and had a ball. She suggested to Dart that if he liked to skate, they’d have to add that to their list of things to do after the war.

It’s been just two days since she got his letter saying that he wouldn’t be writing for a while and she’s already desperate to see that familiar handwriting. She says that if she should ever forget for one second how much she loves him, he should remind her how hard it’s been for her to go all these months without seeing him.

She wishes him goodnight and suggests that if he imagines her saying all the pretty things she wishes she had said it will make the time go faster until she can say all them all in person.

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January 9, 1945

16. January 1945, Dot's Letters

Let’s call today’s submission from Dot the “Variety Pack.” First, there’s a cute letter from Tonsillectomy written in a child-like scrawl and filled with news about how much she misses her Poppa and how much she’s been studying. The final sentence says, “Well, Daddy, Momma’s hand is getting awfully sore from writing with her left hand, so I guess I’d better quit now.”

Next comes the official announcement of the winter graduation at Andrews School for Girls on February 11th. You may recall that Dot finished all her academic courses last spring and has been working at Franklin Simons to complete her practicum to qualify for graduation. It seems like just a short while ago she was describing all the activities of last year’s graduation to Dart when he was confined at Great Lakes Naval Hospital.

Finally, Dot has enclosed a calling card, engraved with Miss Dorothy L. Chamberlain, and a brief note on the back. “Dart Dearest – I’ll be thinking of you and loving you all during commencement exercises – and forever after. I love you always – Dorothy”

Not much news, but a novel way to keep in touch.

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