November 7 — Woman With A Message

Link to Family Tree to understand family relationships.

Today we have a letter from G.I. Harry Lowell to his sister Eva in San Francisco. He is in desert training in southern California (see August 16 post).

November 7, 1943
Dear Sister,
Well, I’ve finally decided to write you a letter – after a lot of struggling with myself. This is the first letter I have written since I came back from my furlough.
You’ve probably received that recording from L.A. by now; I don’t think that voice sounds like mine at all, do you? The lady that made the record at the U.S.O. dragged me into her studio, and I couldn’t say no.
How is everything going with you? Did you find a job that suits you yet?
We are having quite a few sandstorms these days; have you ever been in a sandstorm? Most of our tents were blown away or torn; we have to wear goggles to protect our eyes; the food consists of 50% sand; our rifles and trucks are clogged up most of the time, etc. All in all, it’s a mess. We are told that it wouldn’t last much longer. (I hope)
On my trip to the desert I looked all over for snakes, but I didn’t even see a lizard. As for cacti (cactuses? cactusi?), I saw very beautiful ones but wasn’t able to get any because they belonged to a hotel at Palm Springs. Tell Mrs. Koenig (I think that’s her name) I’ll keep looking.
I have been quite disgusted lately; blue is the word. The other day I drove for the salvage depot and saw one of a few examples of inexcusable waste. Brand new test tubes, pill boxes, first aid kits (containing hard-to-get drugs), loads of filter paper, and cases of sodium amytal for injections. All these things had been thrown together with old clothes, storm tents, shoes, and other salvage. I could have killed the officer who was responsible for such an outrageous waste of and unconcern for valuable government property. Grr!
Quite a few of the men in the company are getting soft gums and bad teeth because a stupid bastard of a colonel or general has made up his mind to feed us canned food only. Oh, I am so mad*!@% (Could you send me a set of teeth?)
Well, that’s all for now. Say hello to your household, keep your nose clean, and don’t get into any fights with the family.
As always,
Your favorite brother,
Harry
P.S. How about that picture? What’s your phone number?

I included a photo of a USO recording Harry made in the May 3rd post – I assumed he had made it for her birthday. I have a vague memory of listening to it when I was a child, but can no longer make it work.

In this and other letters, Harry refers to Mrs. Koenig – she was the mother of Eva’s fellow nursing student Ursula Lucks and Eva’s landlady for many years. I remember her as a sweet old lady who took me to the zoo. Earlier this year I searched on Ancestry for more information, and discovered that Margaret Koenig was born in Germany in 1898. Her daughter Ursula Lucks also was born in Germany. Margaret was widowed before coming to the U.S. with Ursula in 1927. According to the 1930 census, she worked as a wrapper in a candy factory (shades of I Love Lucy!). In 1934, she married Ewald Koenig, also an emigré from Germany.

Here is a photo from the late 1940s of Helene, Mrs. Koenig, her husband, daughter, and my parents: