The following story is based on the actual experiences of Walter Lowell, who served as a Corporal in the Special Services during the Korean War. He had been drafted while attending school at UMass and was sent overseas to Heidelberg in Germany in 1953 and returned to the States in 1955. In Germany, he worked along with the German police in the town patrol along the Autobahn. Mr. Lowell now lives in Canton, spending many of his days at the Canton Golf Course, which he owns. Notably, he continues to play golf and participate in golf tournaments.

For Me To Know

The plate was full of the Thanksgiving specialties. Succulent mashed potatoes, savory cranberry sauce, and most importantly the simmering turkey which all combined to make a true Thanksgiving delicacy. It sounds delicious; but in reality, Walter Lowell sat at a wooden table on a hard bench in front of a plate of food that was hardly edible at all. This was the Thanksgiving feast that each American soldier enjoyed during the holiday.

Corporal Walter Lowell had been put on the day shift and ate dinner at the WAC’s Barracks while in Heidelberg. Along with the rest of his American company, he arrived late for the Thanksgiving dinner. Back at camp, the German soldiers did not receive this food. Their plates would offer meager portions of bland food. There would be no complaints.

Once he finished his dinner, Walter walked directly up to the kitchen staff, never thinking twice about the decision he was about to make, never thinking that anyone would object, or would be offended by the idea.

He walked straight up to the smooth counter and asked, “Everything is about done now, so what are you going to do with all the remaining food?”

The KP staff simply replied, “Well, we’ll do something with it.”

Without a moment of thought he asked, “Can I take it back to the German police in the station house?”

“What!” The woman beside the cook he was talking to erupted and pulled out a knife. She darted towards him. The soldiers beside Walter ran ahead and stopped her before she could get any closer. He stared blankly back at her, astonished this response had come out of such a small lady. A simple question of kindness, of wanting to make sure everyone in camp ate properly on the day of thanks, had turned into something he could never have dreamed.

“Her parents were killed by Nazis in a concentration camp, so don’t speak anything about them. We cannot feed those officers,” the cook quickly replied.

With sharp thinking, Walter jumped to ask, “Well, what about my prisoners?

The cook said, “What about your prisoners?”

“Well, last night, the soldiers had time off, and they got drunk, so we had to arrest a whole bunch of them. Some of the companies haven’t picked up their prisoners from lockup down at the P station, yet.”

“How many do you have?”

“Like eight or nine; maybe there is a tenth, I don’t know whether he is gone yet or not.” The staff agreed and gave him all the leftovers. He walked back to the camp with the rest of his company. There were no prisoners. He handed out the food to the German officers. Their faces lit up, glowing, as if it were their first real meal in a long time. They were allies now, officers on the same side. Although there may have been differences in the past, they had been put aside. All these men looked on to the future and their common goal of peace.

After enjoying what was brought back, his American comrade came up to him and asked, “Where did you get that stuff?”

“Don’t worry, I just got it.”

“How come they gave it to you?”

“Well, that’s for me to know and you to find out.”

Walter Lowell once again helped the soldiers when he brought food back to them after his Christmas meal. By New Years, though, his commanding officers started to catch on to his ways and would not allow him to take the night shift. This prevented Walter from continuing his generous actions for the German soldiers.