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Today’s letter was written by G.I. Harry Lowell to his sister Eva while he was recovering from a tropical illness at an army hospital in San Diego. This is one of a few letters he wrote in German. When my friend Roslyn translated the letters a few years ago, she had trouble deciphering his handwriting. It was only in preparing my posts for October that I realized that he had written in the old German script and I asked translator Amei Papitto to look at them. Phrases written in English are in italics.
6 October 1945
My dearest little sister!
The pitiful condition of my fountain pen forces me to write this letter with a pencil. I am writing this letter from the one of many USO writing rooms in San Diego.
I just received the pictures back which I had taken during my leave. I will enclose in this envelope some of the pictures that will interest you. Despite the dim light in your apartment, the photos came out pretty good.
Since my last letter, nothing has changed here. The weather is still the same and I cannot complain about the treatment by Uncle Sam. It seems that I have to stay for about another two months in this hospital. All of my hopes lie in the possibility that I will be dismissed from the army before the end of next year. So there we have to cross our fingers [I am amazed at my memory (in German, the expression is “press your thumbs”)]. I need several hours of memory refreshment (holy mackerel, what a long word!) in order to master my mother tongue again.
Sometimes it is difficult for me to remember this or that word. Then it takes me a few minutes until I find the missing word in the dictionary of my brain. Please send me your German-English dictionary.
How is my brother-in-law doing? (it took me a hell of a long time to remember the translation for b-in-law). Even his criticism of my German language ability is more than welcome.
“Won’t you feed the little lamb,
The little lamb so gentle and good.”This is all for today. Every time I’m in a grumpy mood, it’s better to end my letter. I’m professing my brotherly love and I remain your charming brother
Harry
P.S. I dare you to answer me in German. Good luck.
According to one website, “USO clubs served coffee, cookies, donuts and sandwiches, but no alcohol. They offered stationery to write letters, bunks to take naps, services to mend uniforms and the latest phonograph records.”
Like his mother so often did in her letters, Harry makes a literary reference, recalling Der Alpenjäger, a poem by Schiller that was set to music by Schubert.
The only photo I have of Harry in an apartment is of him ironing his uniform – perhaps this is what he is referring to?
