Georgetown, British Guiana. November 12, 1947

Homeward Bound!

Dearest “Cyclone”,

Originally, we were scheduled to begin loading operations for the States, today, the 12th of November. But, a week ago, while we were at sea, bound for Paramarito, our orders were changed by radio.

We have put in a very long week, believe me! Well, the outcome of it all is that right now, at 20:07 hours, 8:07 p.m., we are fully loaded and on our way home.

We will stop at Trinidad for bunkers, fuel, and fresh water, then Dominica for 120 tons of rum, then St. Croix for 2700 stems of bananas. From there we put in at Newport News, Va., for partial discharge.

This change in plans is maddening, because it means that I shall be in the States about 2 days before Thanksgiving. But, I shall be at Newport News. The voyage won’t end until we reach New York, either on Thanksgiving or the day after.

Darling, there is a chance that I’ll be able to go to that Thanksgiving dance, provided I can catch a plane. (This ship is rolling so violently, that I have trouble writing.) So, my girl, if you haven’t a date with someone else for the dance, get your gown, the black one, I have something for our that will look well with it. Cross your fingers, because if I don’t make it, it won’t be my fault. I may die trying.

Also, be sure your skis are ready, or better still, let them wait, and I’ll put a good running surface on them for you.

Darling, do you realize we will have almost a whole month together. Maybe you could even get your vacation the first week in December. Try!

Oh honey, I can’t remember when I’ve ever been as happy. I’m bubbling over! I hear a loud voice inside me singing…”going home, home, home, home!”.

I don’t want to say much more, because if you could guess how terribly I’ve missed you, and could feel the butterflies running riot inside me now, when I think that soon I’ll hold you in my arms, you’d probably be afraid, and your mind would start moving around in circles of doubt, like the loveable “cyclone” that you are.

One life,
One love,
Your,
Dave

Paramaribo, Dutch Guyana. October 7, 1947

Dearest Betty,

You say, in your last letter, that the gift of my heart frightens and bewilders you, and that perhaps I can help you when I get home.

Honey you wait and see how long you remain frightened and bewildered after I get home. I promise it wont be for long. NOW LETS GET THIS THING STRAIGHT! ONCE AND FOR ALL! I quote:

“You see once I gave my heart and for four years I waited and hoped and believed, and then things happened, waiting. Hoping and believing were over, were things of the past which only fools practiced. I dread waiting and I promised myself that I would never again wait as I waited. I know I am selfish, but that is how it is and must be. Dave, please hurry home.” (Home is in quotes thank God!).

My dear, draw up a chair, or something. NOW YOU JUST LISTEN TO ME FOR A CHANGE! I’M GETTING TIRED OF TELLING YOU THIS OVER AND OVER! WHATS THE MATTER WITH THAT MIND OF YOURS ANYWAY?

To begin with precious, I’m the one who has been waiting for you! If you would not let foolish thoughts run riot within you so much, when you are alone. If you could only wake up to reality, you would realize that you are not even participating in your dreaded, “waiting”. You are merely floating on the surface of synthetic, aerated dreams. If you continue, my love, you will soon lose the capacity for making any decisions of your own.

The waiting, my sweet, is entirely up to you. I am, and have been, ready to offer you permanent shelter in my arms, the patience, knowledge, and understanding that can come only from one who truly and completely loves, as I love you. I offer you my heart, my life, my love, for life, immediately, or whenever you wake up to the fact that all you have been secretly hoping for, I intend giving to you.

I, not you, wait. How long? Just say, ” Dave, I love you! and see how long your dreaded waiting will continue. Betty, my sweet, please! please! wake up! Realize what we can be to each other. Have done with this, “I have been wronged in the past” complex. Right now! Your not the only one to whom it has ever happened. Your mind is so foolishly crowded with the nonsense and doubts of the past, that you fail to recognize the beauty and stability the present is offering you.

“Dave, you have given me much and believe me I could not and would not cheat you. Nothing lasts that is not built upon truth. You say you have given me your heart.”

I say I have! My gosh! I eat it, walk it, sleep it, and mull it over in my mind on watch! I know, and when are you going to start believing me? When I get home, take you in my arms, tell you that I love you with all my heart? When I look into your bewildered, uncomprehending eyes, and say,

“Love, I am your moon, turn your face to my shafts of enlightenment.
Feel the warm, salty breath of my faith.
Hold still whilst I tear the cloak asunder!”

I hope to be home for about two weeks, when I get there. Our sailing date, as yet, is none to definite. See if you can get “Fluffy” to hold off on your vacation so you can take it when I get home. About the third week in November, my best guess at present.

God bless you my love,
and keep you,

Your Dave

P.S. Write again soon.

At Sea, August 30, 1947

David W. Shields

Hi Darling,

Honestly, honey, is it too difficult to picture me getting my hands dirty working for a living and enjoying it? Things would be, “top hole”, if only all this were taking place in Boston Harbor.

You should be interested to know that, before we left Port of Spain, Trinidad, I received my third letter from you. Keep them coming, Betty, and I, in turn will do as well as I can. Speaking of letters, I still need to but myself some stationary. It seems I am almost always on watch, or otherwise busy whenever the “Slop Chest” is open for business.

The above mentioned chest, is run by the captain at a tremendous profit to himself, to make it possible for the crew to purchase shaving gear, clothing, or almost any small item they might need during the cruise.

After two years at various unpleasant tasks in the Pacific, I find this voyage rather enjoyable.

 

David W. Shields

But, I am fortified by an abundance of peace of mind, and contentment, knowing that I am in love with you. It is trying and bitter to be separated, but I find that I’m at ease and content with the knowledge and awareness of your mental presence. I feel that you are not forgetting me while I’m gone. I feel your prayers. I seem to sense how much you miss me. I feel that, for every mile of unbounded wave that bids us wait, I have sailed a little closer into your heart. I feel you commencing to shed your doubts, and beginning to trust in me, and my love, as I have begged you to so often. I feel that you too are now beginning to reach toward that sacred, but much misused, door leading to a spiritual and physical life-long unity. Most of all, though, my precious, away down here I can feel your love for me awakening, carefully, slowly; but surely and undeniably, and when it is fully awake, and you tell me of it, which after much hesitancy, you will do, I shall help you along the path to the realization of “Our Lord’s” greatest gift, properly and mutually shared, as you helped me at times when we were together.

Now at this point, I shall try to help you in your doubts and sweet but uncertain decisions by asking you to connect all the memories you can of the two of us with the following names: (don’t rush, at this point, remember, take at least five minutes collecting and arranging the memories connected with the following.)
Dreamworld
Mansion Inn
Entrance to St. Luke’s Church
Sandy Burr
3rd Cliff
The back of the Nautical Bar
Our hamburger night club
Your kitchen
Mass (how your feelings softened toward me at the end of it)
The night on your couch
The Formals
“I’ve got a bone to pick with you!”
9:00 pm Harvard Square
Rainy walk on 3rd Cliff
The two nights when you foolishly thought you would never see me again
That last wave at the airport

Well?…It’s not your life anymore, it’s mine too! Do I love you? Answer to the $64.00 question: YOU ARE! ONLY YOU! Goodnight my life! Meet me tonight!

P.S. Upon reading this over, (a bad policy), I find that, mushy though it will sound to you, the thoughts are true. They are private, and I share them willingly with you, at what risk? That will have to be decided by you. But, if they strike you as insincere or mushy, then, we are not as closely united as I believe we are.

Goodnight Betty

P.S. Am I making a mistake?

I think not!

What think you?

Tell me!

Please!

En Route Port of Spain, August 24, 1947

Darling “Bett”,

My gosh! It’s hot! It is said that when it’s this hot, the Stinger Rays come up to the surface to wipe the sweat off their brows. One of my “A.B.’s” caught a 45 pound catfish this morning.

Last night, in Paramaribo, before we sailed, I saw a new picture, “The Ghost and Mrs. Muir”.

There was something about it, fantastic though it was, that held me and drew me out. I should like very much to see it again. If only to observe if I still see the cliff as “Third Cliff”, and myself, as the seaman, haunting you as I did the last time.

Certainly, there was no tangible connection between us and the story on the screen, and yet, I felt strange and very close to you, as though you were beside me, holding my hand, and watching the picture with me.

It’s a difficult feeling to describe. It puzzled me at the time. I have had several moments like that since I have been away from your arms. Once, early in the mid-watch when ordering the helmsman to change course, I could hear your tender laugh and feel your cheek posed, waiting for my kiss, when I said, “port, midships!” You see honey, I spoke true words when I said, “I leave within you, my heart!”

I say to myself at moments of such close mental contact with you, “Dave, you miss her, and this is the natural reaction, nothing more, and yet, you are so close and alive and near to me that…..I wonder!

Now we are only carrying bauxite. We go one hundred some odd miles into the jungle, load, proceed to Port of Spain, Trinidad, unload, then return to the jungle and start all over. But, as bauxite is only bulk cargo and doesn’t require much attention, I should have more time to write to you. Just remember though, that my letters will come to you spasmodically because, as yet, strange to say, they have no post office in the jungle. The Head Hunters at Moengo just aren’t interested in modern improvements I guess. They’d rather beat out their troubles on the drums.

So, bear with me, have patience, my love, until I am home once more. Then, mayhap, we shall see what changes my absence hath wrought! I know this, if your innermost feelings bear the faintest resemblance to mine, you, my girl, are a “gone goose”.

Well, for now dear, I must leave you, physically! Keep your head up and to wind’ard and beat a steady course. Eventually you shall round the capes of hesitancy and doubt and let go anchor in the safe, permanent harbor of my heart, and feel the sweet, steady breeze of lasting love. I promise!

Goodnight my life,
Dave

P.S. Your letters are starting to come through now. Keep up the good work young lady, and one day I’ll buy you a hamburger with onions.

G’NITE CYCLONE

Paramaribo, Surinam August 18, 1947

 

Darling Betty,

It’s been quite awhile since I have had a chance to write, I know. But, once we get started on the shuttle run from Moengo (in the jungle of Dutch Guicana) to Port of Spain, Trinidad I shall have more time.

You see cargo on these ships are divided into two classes, special and general. We have three holds full of spiced cargo, rum, champagne, wine, cigarette can see es, candy, beer, etc.. In other words, cargo liable to pilferage. People pay extra to ship special cargo because a mate has to be responsible for it and check it ashore. Well, with three mates and three holds discharging, you can see that we have been extremely busy. However, tomorrow morning the last of it will be ashore and we go back to the regular routine which should give me some time in which to write.

This outfit is not like the navy. As soon as we are alongside a dock, we start working cargo, and as soon as we are done, we go right to sea and on to the next port, where the same thing happens all over. Between ports, I have to prepare all voyage reports and cargo receipts and send them to New York by mail from the following port. A vicious circle!

The preceding jumble may give you some idea of the amount of work I have to do. I can tell you much better some night in October or November at the Mansion Inn.

Well, do you know what it means to miss the one you love as yet Betty? Or do you just miss the fun we have together? Here it is only the 18th of August and I feel as if I hadn’t seen you for months. At night, when I miss you worst, I like to look forward to a reunion all the more sweet and profound, for having tasted first the bitterness of longing.

It’s 3:00 am here, the stevedores have knocked off for lunch, so I have this hour to spend with you. I’m wearing only a pair of khaki shorts and I don’t think I have more than three inches of skin left that the mosquitoes haven’t sampled.

Just remember this, my love, before I went away, I left you a true heart. All of it. If, at times, you should not hear from me, pause, remember what you are to me. Take care of my heart and be content in the knowledge that a man can love as much as I love you.

Well, goodnight my dear, and till I hold you again,…port! starboard! amidships!

All my love,
David

P.S. I can’t mail letters down here in the jungle, but I get to Port of Spain, Trinidad every nine days. There I can mail my letters to you, and wait for your first one to me. Gosh, I’m tired. Sweet dreams sweet Betty. Goodnight.

Spawners of the Farm

My parents loved each other. This much is true. I have letters my father wrote my mother while away at sea during World War II, before they were married, expressing his undying love and plans for the future:

Dearest Cyclone,

     Well, the other Junior has not reported for duty as yet, so I work 24 hours on and twenty four hours off.  Not quite enough time to get home to see you, but almost!  Gosh honey, I love and want you so much that the days away from you seem unbearable.  I don’t think I’ll be away at sea after we are married.  I don’t think I’ll be able to stand it any more than you.  “Truly”, I love you so much that it hurts.

I hope you don’t mind my borrowing that other picture of you for my room.  I have it right on my desk in front of me.  It looks fine, but I can only look at it, I can’t feel the warm, silky curve of your cheek against my fingers.

     Oh darling!  Thank God!  I found and convinced sweet, tender, loving Betty C., to be mine.  What a wonderful feeling it gives me to know that, although we are apart, our hearts and lives are as one.

I met a mate today who was Ck. Mate when he was 20 years old.  He is now 50, and guess what he is?….Ck. Mate!  That’s the kind of brilliant career going to sea is.  Nope, not for me.  Just long enough to get money for the two of us to get started with.  After that, college or some definite course of action ashore.  I don’t know what as yet.  All I know is that I’ll not be going to sea any longer than is absolutely necessary.  That’s all for now “Masterpiece”.

     All my love dear,

  Your Dave 

 

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