Unintentionally Procured Wehrmacht Mail

One of the greater miracles of Eastern Europe is the overabundance of 20th century remnants, especially of the Second World War. Lithuania especially, due to its  role as the battlefield between Germany and the Soviet Union, tends to have gathered quite a bit of interesting trinkets. Thus, it's really no wonder that the flea markets there are a WWII fanatic's paradise. From Wehrmacht helmets, to Soviet fighting knives, to propaganda-ridden postcards, a good Lithuanian flea market is guaranteed to vacate wallets.

Last summer's damage at the Klaipėda Sea Festival's flea market turned out quite interesting. A loot of an old Cuban cigar case and a pocketful of Lenin-blazoning Soviet lapel pins already captured, I came across a Russian man who had splayed out countless German and Soviet relics on the sidewalk. Using only hand gestures, we managed to communicate price information quite well and, somehow, I ended up with an old German letter.

In the rush and fog of my purchase I had been oblivious to the fact that I was buying a specimen of Wehrmacht Feldpost.

Feldpost, as it was known, was meant for simple, inexpensive, and secretive communication with Wehrmacht soldiers and was used by Germany throughout WWII. Addressed to an R. Flöser in Wilhelmsfeld and postmarked August 13th, 1942, this letter is clear correspondence with a soldier of the front. I somehow had the luck of choosing the least legible one of the bunch, so deciphering the exact addresses and details has proven to be quite a challenge. Not to mention the letter itself, which can only be described as a cryptic scrawl. I could guess that the letter is meant for a soldier in Battalion 23191, but my finds are truncated there. Therefore, most of my purchase remains a mystery, possibly to my benefit.

And the letter itself. Have a crack at it.

Numismatics, somewhat

A week or so ago, I returned to the flea market where I'd discovered my Vietnam-era lapel pins and Lautrec-themed tea mugs. As promised, I'd come back for the 1940 New Zealand Penny with George VI.

Fortunately, after rummaging through the box of coins for what I had intended to find, I had also come across a few other coins. The owners were offering some sort of "two coins for one dollar" deal (not at all smart on their behalf, but very lucky on mine), so I grabbed a few extra. I had trouble finding a fourth coin that I wanted, but, ironically, it turned out to be the most valuable one, a Victorian farthing (a quarter penny, or around £0.50 today) from 1881. The others include aforementioned 1940 New Zealand Penny, a 1919 British Penny, and a 1938 French Two Francs. They're not worth a fortune, slightly less than $30 if anything, but it was quite a bargain regardless. Here they are in reverse-chronological order.

Threadbare Flea Markets Dot Com

Honestly, I expected there to be far more junk the elderly have left behind sitting around in flea markets. Of course, I only stopped by one, but aside from expired cosmetics, kitschy porcelain kittens, sunglasses of questionable quality, and garden vegetables, I could barely find anything. I did, nevertheless, snatch up a few lackluster items.

The first is a set of two military pins. From what the internet has helped me ascertain, they're grade E-4 and US Marine Corps. Dating them, however, has proven to be difficult. The clutches read "Ballou Reg'd" and "Jandy Reg," which leads me to believe they're from the 1960's, most likely Vietnam.

Otherwise, I also managed to grab a set of English bone china Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec themed tea mugs from Royal Windsor. They're not expensive china, actually relatively cheap, but the set of four was inexpensive and Lautrec is one of my favorite artists, so I couldn't restrain myself. 

They include Aristide Bruant, Jane Avril, La Goulue, and Divan Japonais.

Among other noteworthy things I did not purchase there was an overpriced WWII Good Conduct Medal and a 1940 New Zealand penny with King George VI on the obverse (the latter which I will probably come back for next time, to be honest).

Moral of the story- don't expect much from flea markets, and do your research before opening your wallet.

Old Suitcases and Co.

Among the myriad of my grandfather's old attaché's and books that my father showed me this summer (all of which I wanted to keep, in all honesty), I found a suitcase. Cleaning up some years ago, my father had stuffed it full of old books and left it behind a sofa. I spent an hour or so rummaging through it, flipping through books filled with plays and other literary works.

More than the books, however, I wanted the suitcase. With a quick paint job and some W2, it would be good as new.

Anything from "The Music of Foreign Nations" to
"The Secret of the Siberia Platform" to "Dictionary
of the Amateur Gardener".

"HEY, PEOPLE! Collection of one-part plays against the
imperialist war, and the bourgeois and fascist morality"
1967, not-so-subtle literary propagada.

Apparently produced in the Leather Goods Factory of
Vilnius in December of 1974. Price- four rubles and eighty
kopeks.

Ancient shares

I was rummaging through my antiques today and I found stock certificates that I snatched up one day for a nickel a piece. I have two, one from 1914 for 45 shares and one from 1918 for 10. Adjusted for inflation, the first was purchased for a sum of $101,683.80 (sobbing a little bit). The second reads as "Without Nominal or Par Value."

The first company is the "Resistal Fabrics Company", and the second is "Semter Limited." The first was purchased by a William Kootz in the presence of William A. Otto, and the second was purchased by Otto himself.

I've tried to track down the firms and names on the certificates using the great and powerful internet, but to no avail. The companies were most likely bought up ages ago, or simply went out of business. Hypothetically, if I were to find the currently existing company that bought up those mentioned on my certificates, I could feasibly sell these shares. Which would be a nice, but highly unlikely situation.

Either way, here they are: