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Today we have a letter from soldier Harry Lowell in New Guinea to sister Eva Lowell in San Francisco.
New Guinea
June 28, 1944Dearest of all my sisters,
I received your letters of June 5th, 10th, and 13th, and I was glad to learn that you finally found yourself a nice apartment. I imagine that you haven’t yet forgotten how to cook, although you have been away from it for so long. Do you remember that charcoaled beef-broth you made for us during your culinary apprenticeship – in your greenhorn days? Anyway, I would like to pay you a visit sometime and taste your cooking; how big is the new domicile? Don’t you think it would be a good idea to have one of your girlfriends live with you so that you don’t have to give parties to make cooking pay. Otherwise your apartment will cost you more than you expected. “I know,” says Mr. Anthony.
There is no news to give you, as usual; the war is still going on and nothing has happened here that would be of special interest to you. As you probably know, Ralph is on this island; he isn’t too far away from my camp, yet I haven’t had the chance to pay him a visit. When I see him I’ll tell him you said hello.
If you haven’t sent me those fountain pens yet, don’t send them, because I got one from my pal; send me a gallon of fresh milk, instead. Ah, milk! As soon as I get back to the states, I’ll get drunk on milk; I will drink gallon after gallon and eat half a steer on the side (rare, of course). It is wonderful to dream, isn’t it? Dreaming furthers one’s imagination and improves one’s sense of appreciation. I could ride in a streetcar all day and get a kick of doing so – especially now, on the consolidated Market and Municipal lines. I would even stand half an hour of one of those cocktail parties, mind you, half an hour!
Ursula has some sense of humor, hasn’t she? You ought to be able to retaliate and write scandalous letters yourself; you have a pretty good imagination and it wouldn’t be hard for you to pay her back.
What has come over the snake-charming family, that they got rid of their reptiles? I thought they were serious collectors; and now they trade their precious collection for a dog – what a shame!
I guess Paul is getting along all right. He probably keeps himself busy: I bet his little book is filled with appointments and concert tickets. Give him my best regards when you see him.
Sis, I am becoming an old man; judge for yourself. Before I came into the Army I had to shave only one and a half times a week, now I have to do it tow and a half times. To top that – I got hair on my chest now, I am a man; yep, the Army has made a man out of me. I suppose that staying around the jungle has something to do with this hairy transmutation; I must look into Darwin’s works some day. Maybe I can revise his theory a bit.
Do you realize that I will be twenty-two or older by the time I come back? Awful, is it not? What a waste of time! However, I am rather fortunate being as young as I am; imagine all those fellows that will be over thirty when they get out. You see, I have no reason to complain.
Do you like your job now or have you been thinking of that Standard Oil deal again? I am still quite in the dark as to your present job; tell me more, old girl.
In your association with servicemen you probably heard someone mention the term “section eight,” which means mentally unbalanced. (It is actually a paragraph in the military code, classifying unbalanced soldier under “unfit for service,” which means a discharge from the army.) As you can imagine, a lot of men have done their darndest to convince army psychiatrists of their insanity; some were successful, some weren’t. As a rule, nobody gets away with it unless he is a brilliant and highly intelligent actor; you’ll seldom find such a combination, because an intelligent man knows better. (Of course, that’s a matter of opinion) Do you think I am eligible for a “section eight”, after reading the following poem over which I labored for ten minutes? Here it is:
Jungle Wacky.
‘Twas a trally gnory morn,
Some Quackles in the croot were born.
They sliddle and snide
And dribble and hide.
What a jolly good time they had!On comes Cobble with wings of flame;
The palm leaves clooned and burbled as he came.
He clickers and raires
And sneer and blairs.
His intentions were utterly bad!The face of the Cobble was croopled and twixt,
Yon teeth of terror for eenie Quackles they ixed;
He sneeketh and crawls
And bambles and mawls.—
A meal of young Quackles he had!Poor Quackles, so pippy and knacky they were!
‘Til Cobble so grootedly morted them there.
O wamble and Bloh,
O pity and woe!
Moral? – Stay out of the jungle my lad.Harry Lowell.
[handwritten along the side: Isn’t that awful?]
Well? You didn’t think I had it in me, did you? (I didn’t either.)
Well Eva, I think I have written you a longer letter than I intended to; I guess you deserve a long letter once in a while, because of your faithful and regular correspondence. Nevertheless this is going to be the last page, absolutely.
I have been receiving the Chronicle almost every week and I have enjoyed every copy; I am looking forward to receiving the Examiner. (A scandal sheet is just the thing for jungle life.)
Give my best regards to everyone and keep on writing.
Love,
Harry.P.S. I told Julia to look you up and taste your cooking; you can expect her any day.
P.P.S. When are you going to send me your picture, eh?
A few notes on Harry’s letter:
Mr. Anthony must be John J. Anthony (born Lester Kroll), who had a radio show called “Good Will Hour” that focused on marital problems. According to his New York Times obituary of July 18, 1970, the show opened with “Mr. Anthony, I have a problem.” and ended with “That’s my advice to you.” Reminiscent of Frasier Crane’s tag line “I’m listening.” In 1945, he published a book called “Mr. Anthony Solves Your Personal Problems.”
You can hear a segment of his radio show from 4/4/1945 and learn more about him here.
Harry’s desire to ride a cable car all day long was probably unfulfilled. According to the Market Street Railway website, “after Muni took over the Market Street Railway Co. in 1944, streetcar lines quickly vanished by the dozens…”
It is interesting to hear Harry’s take on soldiers trying to get discharged from the army – reminiscent of scenes from Catch-22 and M*A*S*H. His homage to Lewis Carroll’s Jabberwocky is quite an achievement for a non-native English speaker!