13 August 1948. North Bound

stamp

Darling “Cyclone”,

We are only 6* south of the Equator now, and headed “home”.

Don’t forget, your room is reserved starting 22 August at the Henry Hudson Hotel on W57th street.  If possible, ask for Mr. Wilmot at the desk, tell him that I’m the “Mr. Shields” that’s an officer on the Brazil.  Then, he will remember me and see that you are taken care of properly. (Gosh Honey!  I’d like to be taking “care” of you properly, right now.)

Choppy has the pass and what information you will need to get in to pier #32 North River on Monday.
train

Oh darling!  I’m looking forward so to seeing you!  That’s rather an unnecessary remark, I suppose, because you are now thoroughly aware of how much my thoughts are yours.

Cyclone, just think, we’ll see much more of each other this time, than before.

I have a watch from 5:00 pm on Monday to 8:00 am on Tuesday morning, then 5:00 pm Wed. to 8:00 am Thur. morning, which means we will have:
Days- Mon, Tues, Wed, Thur.
Nights- Tues and Thur.

Maybe I can arrange to have you on board until 10:00 pm on one of the two nights I am on duty. Anyway, we will see a lot more of each other than last time.

Look, if for some reason you can’t get onto that pier, (a Narcotics Agents inspection, or something.), and I haven’t been able to get out along the pier to find you by 10:00 am, go back immediately to the Henry Hudson, and I’ll get in touch with you there.

Have a big “Welcome Home” sign out, because it seems as though I’ve been waiting to kiss those warm, soft, lovely lips of yours “hello again” for ages.

It won’t be long now Cyclone! 260 more days before you start getting my breakfast!

Oh my love, my love, your mine and I’m so very happy.

“Heart of mine, faithful and true,
Love me always,
As I love you!” Please!

Forever,

Dave

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10 August 1948.

Aug 10

Dearest “Cyclone”,

Well, we are in Rio now, on our way “home”.  No mail from you!  What an empty feeling it gives inside.  But, I realize what happened, and when your letters do start coming through again, I’ll appreciate them that much more.

Darling, here it is, August 12th already, and I haven’t had time to write since the above attempt.  Oh!  I’ve written to you every night, mentally, on watch, in fact darling, I’ve written a song about, “Cyclone” (my cyclone that is).  But, it’s been so hard to find time to get words down on paper.  It’s not so much the fact that I’ve been busy, because I know you have been busy too.  It’s just that sailing hours are so inconvenient that they take all the pep out of you.

We are only in each port a few hours, most of that time I’m working cargo.  Then, we always seem to sail around 2:00 am which means I get into the sack about 2:45 am, and have to get up for my watch at 3:30 am, which, as you can see makes me rather tired the next day.  This procedure is repeated every two or three days until we leave Trinidad, then I can catch up on my sleep for New York.  Now, if I can only concentrate on getting a few of these mental letters that I write on watch, down on paper and mailed to you, I imagine you would be a lot happier.

Oh sweet cyclone, excuse me for saying it, but, I know how much you love me, and want my letters, even if they are scrawled fast and unreadable on the paper, just as the contact between our two hearts is as constant as possible, and I feel awful when I’m too tired to write.  But, I’ll work out a routine yet, so that the letters will keep coming even if all I can say is: 

“My love, my heart, my cyclone,

I’m your Dave forever.”

G’NITE

4 August 1948. Bermuda

bermuda

Dearest,

This will have to be short and sweet, because the stevedores are going to unload beer and wine, and I have to count the bottles.

Honey, you know how constantly you are on my mind. How often, on the bridge at night, my thoughts are of you. So, please, Betty, be a little patient for another week or so, then my letters will come faster.

You see, they don’t carry any pursers on these ships any more and the Captain and myself have to split up all the paper work.

As if that isn’t bad enough, all the cargo we are carrying at present is what you call special cargo. That is, expensive items that have to be counted separately by the mates before being unloaded. This takes up almost all my time, and the little bit left is usually devoted to sleeping.

But, in a few weeks, the cargo will be different, I can relax, catch up on lost sleep, wash clothes, mend socks, and WRITE to you. What? What? What? What?

Maybe I can add a little more to this later, but right now I’m in a hurry. Please excuse the writing. I’ll have more time later on. I hope.

I’ll certainly be glad when the rest of this cargo is gone. The trouble is, we drop off, 200 tons in Bermuda, 87 tons at St. Croix, 300 tons at St. Kitts, etc…, all down the line.  All while you are at one port, your time is spent checking cargo ashore.  Just as soon as you are done, it’s time to leave for the next place.  Oh well!  You get loads like this occasionally, and the only thing to do is forget everything else and concentrate entirely on the cargo and navigation between ports, and the mountain of paperwork.

I like the job because I am experienced in it and know what I am doing.  That is a big factor to consider.  However, right now, I should like to know about 12 hours in which to do nothing except sit down, look at your picture and write to you about a mate who loves you, and whose life will be incomplete until he holds you in his arms once more.

We have what it takes to make a happy and successful union, and the sooner you realize it the happier I shall be. (oops!  you should be too!).

Well, I’m awfully busy now Cyclone, so I’ll have to run.  Keep my heart in working order.

Darling-I LOVE YOU,

Dave.