December 18, 1943

This was Dart’s response to Dot’s marathon letter.  He admitted that, just as the Andrews students were thinking what a waste it was to have a full moon shining over an all-girls school, the guys in the Great Lakes hospital were expressing the same opinion of a moon over an all-male hospital. He likes her idea of “making up for lost time” with full moons at some future time. But he was curious about Dot’s comments about them both being “naughty.” Dart asks, “Do you include yourself in that category? I thought I saw a halo over your head.”

He mentions the phone call again. He was so excited to hear her voice that he can’t remember much of what was said. “Golly, three minutes is such a tiny, precious time.” It makes me so grateful that we don’t ever have to confine ourselves to a three minute conversation.  About the only thing limited in our world is limitation!

He answered the question about birthdays and hexes and simply said that he’s never had a relationship last very long after he learned the girl’s birthday. “I’ll have to know yours eventually. Just wait awhile.”

He decided that after her urging he might decide to write to that “bag” in Cleveland who was trolling for sailors. “I think I already found what I was looking for. As far as I’m concerned, the best gal has won. Enough.”

He told Dot of a rumor that all these guys the hospital doesn’t know what to do with may receive medical discharges from the Navy. He’s ambivalent about that and hopes he does not have to make the decision.

His folks were not able to come for a visit, so Dart played the role of escort all day, leading other guys’ visitors to the proper wards. The ward also just got two WAVE (female) corpsmen today that apparently did not impress Dart much.

He hopes she enjoys the little surprise he sent her and that she has a great time at the dance. He dreams of her so much while writing these letters that he says she ought to be set to music. How sweet!

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December 19, 1943

This letter from Dart takes a page from Dot’s book – it covers several days.  In the first paragraph, he admits he can think of nothing to write, so he’ll re-open the letter at a later time.

Fast forward two days. He is effusive about another phone conversation he had with Dot last night, after waiting one and a quarter hours for the opportunity. (Was there a long line of soldiers trying to call home? Did it take that long to get a connection to Greenwich? I trust we’ll never know.)

Dart’s opinion of the two Waves on his floor has risen since his initial mention of them. They earned the respect of several of their patients when they put a couple of vulgar guys on report for inappropriate behavior toward them, and those cads are now in the brig. So, how would women in the service today feel  in a similar situation? Would they expect to be treated respectfully (like a lady?) or would they believe that to demand a level of respect would be to set themselves above the men and thereby draw unfavorable comparisons? Would they be happy to be considered “one of the boys?” If there were a well-defined standard of behavior toward women, as there was back then, would there be an epidemic of sexual assaults in the military today?

Dad told a revealing little story about a volunteer job he and “Rosy” Rosen were drafted for. They were to report to the Red Cross office and help deliver holiday flowers around the ward. When they arrived at the RC office, no one was there, so they went to the canteen for a little snack. When they noticed that the RC office was occupied, they flipped a coin to decide if they would return to do their task or leave. They kept flipping until they got the results they wanted.

He talks a little more about the daily activities on the ward, and then tells Dot about a conversation he had with his surgeon that day. There is a weird little knot under his incision that the doc says will “eventually” disappear. By that he means between one and 10 years! After the incision heals and the bump shrinks enough, he’ll be returned to active duty.

His aunt sent him a personal little Christmas tree, which he donated to the common good and the guys in the ward decorated it. He wished Dot a merry Christmas, since this will probably be the last letter to reach her before the holiday.

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December 22, 1943

Here’s a quick but newsy note from Dart. He was posted to the crew that scrubs the floors, but later transferred to galley crew to help serve meals and snacks. The latter job seems far more appropriate for someone who is still recuperating and may need additional surgery.

He describes the scrawny little Red Cross tree the patients have decorated with items found on hospital wards. It sounds like it may have been the inspiration for Charlie Brown’s notorious Christmas tree.

The least popular Wave has be reassigned, leaving the bright one on Dart’s ward.

He hopes the Railroad Brotherhood does not strike over the holidays, or it will be impossible to get the mail through between Chicago and Connecticut. Dart closes by wishing Dot a merry Christmas and sending her his love.

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Christmas Day, 1943

Dart observed his lonely Christmas by writing a long letter to Dot.

The letter is full of news about how he has spent his days recently. Today he is spiffed up in his dress uniform so he can attend a church service at 9:30 in the morning.  He tells of carols playing on the radio and the “up-patients” either helping the guys who are in bed, or just resting quietly. Their ward is barren of decorations except for the scrawny tree he has mentioned before. The next ward over has bows and wreaths all over the place.

He talks about the guys spending the day reflecting on how well they have fared this year, in spite of being in the hospital. I guess by this time, the war has gone on long enough that they know there are worse places to be spending the holidays than a hospital in Chicago, USA. Most of the patients in his ward are searching for boxes so they can ship extra belongings home when they return to active duty soon.

He describes his work on the small galley crew, helping to serve meals to the guys in the beds. The small, well-equipped galley is also a quiet place to eat and write letters.

Thursday evening, Dart attended a fabulous Christmas party at the hospital. There were several acts, including some Chicago radio personalities, magicians, piano players, etc. I love that radio personalities were such big deals then, before television emerged. Anyway, there was a huge feast for all, and Santa paid a visit.

Several weeks before, the Chicago Tribune had run a special campaign to find gifts for the military men in the hospital. Dart had received a letter asking what he wanted for Christmas. He’d asked for a particular model railroad car construction kit that was no longer on the market. The one he received was not exactly what he requested, but gratifying nonetheless, and he had already put it half together. He ran through a list of the other gifts he had received, including his favorite – a leather wallet from his folks containing  photos of his mom and dad.

He tells Dot he had put three hours aside on Friday to write to her, but instead spent the whole night trying to comfort a fellow patient who was in great pain. Eventually, that man was transferred to surgery to stop some horrible internal bleeding. Dart would much rather he’d spent the time in a “meager substitute for conversation with my family and with you.”

He envisions Dot having a wonderful holiday, surrounded by her entire family. He mentions that one of the Waves who comes to his ward is from Greenwich and went to school with Dot’s brother. Small world!

The letter has taken him all day to complete, in part because he was on escort duty taking visitors up to the wards. He also received a visitor of his own when a guy from Cleveland who was in Dart’s Navy company came to see him. While Dart has been in the hospital, his company has completed basic training and are headed home on leave. Dart is no closer to a leave than when he first arrived.

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December 26, 1943

Dart has been in the hospital for 44 days and still, no one knows when he’ll be released. He sounds very positive, though, assuring Dot that he feels better than he has for a long, long time. He sheds a little light on the need for his surgery when he explains that prior to it, his knees were getting stiff from the pressure of the cyst. Now his joints are flexible and pain-free.

He has received his first letter from his brother, Burke, who tells him Cleveland is having a white Christmas. He seems impressed that Burke went the extra mile of sending his letter airmail. (Remember airmail?)

He launches into a humorous little bit about his recent lack of mail, concluding that “My friends have forsaken me for more worldly pleasures, such as eating and sleeping. Acquaintances look the other way. Mongrels scorn my very presence…Oh, what have I done to deserve all this?”

Immediately, he chastises himself for the complaints, admitting that he’s had a great pile of letters and small gifts to entertain him up to this point.

He tells Dot of the big song fest they had on the ward last night, with several former choir members (Dart included) joining forces on some old favorites.  He also relates that he was on escort duty again.

He tells that several letters to him have been lost in the mail. (Not sure how he knows this.) He wonders if that might be the case with a couple of Dot’s letters to him, since he hasn’t heard from her in quite a while.

He closes with “I’ve run out of room and things to say simultaneously. I could extol your virtues, but I don’t think you’d believe me.”

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December 29, 1943 – Mail draught continues!!

What follows is a letter from a man who does not want to seem too desperate. It’s two pages of nonsensical silliness that pretty much prove the poor boy is going crazy from lack of mail.

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Now you can read the letter, written the same day, that will soon bring water to a parched man. Enjoy this long letter from Dot, describing her Christmas visit home. She uses description and humor in equal measure to paint a Norman Rockwellesque picture of a New England holiday among a big, jovial family. I can almost see Dart grinning from ear to ear as he reads these pages, over and over again.

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December 30, 1943 – Mail at last!

I love this exuberant letter from Dart, in response to Dot’s long missive she wrote over several days in mid-December. What joy! What gratitude! What love! And man, could that guy turn a phrase! One of my favorite lines is “I’m afraid that if I pinched you to see if you are real, I’d be horribly disappointed to find you gone in a puff of sweet-smelling vapor, to the tune of soft chimes and the distant singing of birds.” Sigh!

Here’s a little aside: Decades after this letter was written, Dart was living in a long-term care facility in a retirement village where he and Dot had lived for several years. He was in the late stages of dementia. He didn’t walk anymore and he rarely spoke. Still, he looked forward to Dot’s twice-daily visits. On one such occasion, an orderly had wheeled Dart to the front door to watch for Dot’s arrival. When he saw her approaching, Dart’s face lit up and he sat taller in his chair. According to the orderly, he spoke as clear as could be and said, with a satisfied grin, “I’ve loved that woman my entire life.” That’s the devotion I was blessed to witness from the time I was born. That’s the love that comes through every page of these letters.

Back to 1943. Dart reported that he received a package from Dot the same day as her priceless letter. The package contained he lovely senior portrait (he liked it, of course) and a double batch of her hand made fudge. The latter was good enough to impress the young sailor with her culinary skills, but it was truly the photo that added sweetness to his day.

He was so delighted that she liked the corsage he had sent her for the school dance, but sorry it had caused her to cry. He requested copies of the photos Mr. Hibschman had taken of the occasion.

His less-than-great news was that several long-term patients on his ward were being released back to active duty, but he would be staying indefinitely. His cyst was still bothering him too much for the rigors of boot camp and combat.

He reluctantly closed his  long letter so he could write to his folks amid his daydreams of Dottie. In his PS, he resurrected his plea for a translation of that code she had once used in her letter;  B.B.S.O.C.Y.K. Will we ever know what it means?

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Another great letter from Dot. It’s a light, somewhat sarcastic account of her day. From nearly removing her arm with a washing machine, to helping her brother Doug haul the 10-foot Christmas tree outside, and hemming her new winter coat, the industrious Dot kept busy. She also was tricked into an appointment with her dentist.

She reported that she’ll be ringing in the New Year tomorrow by babysitting. She tells Dart she turned down a date with someone who held no interest for her, saying “I told him I had a ‘friend’ who wasn’t going to have much fun and it didn’t make me feel like having much fun either.”

After announcing she’d have to sign off because her last toothpick broke from the weight of her eyelids closing, she proceeded to add a New Year’s poem. A really terrible New Year’s poem. It’s hard to envision from this particular sample that Dot would become a kind of poetic legend among family and friends in later years. These days, there’s hardly any occasion she doesn’t mark with clever and well-crafted verse!

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December 31, 1943

Dart’s offering today is quick and upbeat. He will “stooge” for the Red Cross New Year’s Eve party tonight. There is a new case like his on the ward. Dot’s photo has brought plenty of favorable comments. And he tells a humorous story about a couple of corpsmen on his unit.

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This long letter from Dot straddles midnight and ends up in the new year. She tries to match the silliness of Dart’s nonsensical letter as she attempts to fill 10 pages. She describes another of her detailed dreams in which Dart shows up at her house in Greenwich and immediately falls for her married sister, Harriet.

She tells Dart what each of her family members is doing while she babysits and listens to the hit songs on the radio. Each song reminds her of either herself or Dart. Funny how that happens whe you’re in love. She begins to daydream that she’s dancing with Dart to the tune of “Blue Danube.” She reminds him that he better be careful because 1944 is Leap Year and when she sees him in person, she’ll “take advantage of it.” I assume that refers to the old tradition that a woman could ask a man to marry her during Leap Year. She’s getting pretty bold…on paper, anyway!

With more than a sprinkling of sarcasm, she pauses to await midnight, where she imagines kissing the boy of her dreams. Instead, she admits that she’ll call her folks to wish them Happy New Year, and in hanging up the phone, her festivities will be over.

She goes back over the letters she’s received from Dart to make sure she’s answered all his questions. She again wishes him a speedy recovery (Seriously, isn’t it already too late for “speedy?”) I like it when she tells him there are certain passages in his letters that give her a special thrill because she can hear him saying the words.

I am especially moved by her wishes for a victorious New Year. That must have been a prayer on the lips of millions around the world that night. If only it might have happened that soon!

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