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Today’s letter is from G.I. Harry Lowell at the California Desert Training Center to Helene’s cousin Bertha and her husband George Schiller in San Francisco.
December 1, 1943
Dear Bertha and George,
Despite my resolution to start writing more letters more often, I haven’t written to you since I saw you last. Yesterday was pay-day in joy of which I decided to catch up with my correspondence.
As I write this letter I trust that you, George, are in tip-top shape now and that you, Bertha, are working overtime in your victory garden.
I am still doing the same routine work, driving from one edge of the desert to the other.
Right now I am parked between Palm Springs and Cabazon, alongside a cool mountain, taking a little rest from a trip. We, another fellow and myself, were sent out in two trucks to deliver camouflage nets to a little place we’d never been to nor had we ever heard of it. Not even the M.P.s could give us any information; we were given just a superficial description of its possible location – somewhere around such and such mountain, maybe. Well, it was night and time to stop driving, but we decided to get to the place that night come what may. As this is maneuver area we encountered troops who were trying to work their night problems; we’d stop and ask them about the place we were looking for. They couldn’t tell us, but they asked us where they were because they got lost. I got a kick out of the majors’, captains’, and lieutenants’ helplessness and confusion. Those men were supposed to be competent leaders of a large number of soldiers! What a joke! After hours of driving we finally found our destination, though.
We had a few severe sandstorms during the last three weeks. I tell you, sandstorms aren’t pleasant at all. We had quite a time chasing after our clothes which were blown out of our tents. Otherwise the desert is in its beauty at present; it’s quite different during the winter months than during the summer.
We are all getting more anxious every day to get across to do something instead of wasting our time around here. Well, I guess we’ll have to be patient and wait until our turn comes.
I must move on so I close now, hoping that you both are well.
Yours sincerely,
Harry
As you can see from the map below, Cabazon is about 20 miles from Palm Springs. Although Highway 10 was paved, the surroundings were desert wilderness and their assignment would have been more challenging and time-consuming than mere distance would indicate.
Between this letter and the one Harry wrote to Hilda and Nathan Firestone on November 30th, we get a good feel for Harry’s life in the army – both the beauty and discomfort of the desert, the various personalities of army personnel (particularly officers), the sometimes seemingly pointless or incomprehensible assignments, and the unknown of what the future holds.