Cleveland High School - Beacon Yearbook (St Louis, MO)

Page 22 text:

The The The cilzghlf Oh, China . son speaks: Oh, my father, why fight we on When iight we now so many years? So many men have I killed thus With knife, with gun, with strength of hand. Is there some reason? None I know. What be there gained, save death and death And still retreat to deeper lines? Once and twice and thrice thus we Have fought and turned and run as hard. Or is there now a joy in death When heroes fall, for honor saved? They fear not death by knife nor gun, But face the foe with dauntless eyes. This cannot be, this hollow fame. Not so we fight in this my world, But fight for things, for food, for life, But fight we on despite lost hope. father speaks .' I know this too this dark despairg It twangs and burns the heart of me. For seven years I too have fought To fall, go back, and back again. At first I thought adventure nigh To raise and hold a gun on high. But once was mine the bitter taste Of enemy, of war, of death, There was no longer zeal for praise, But greater love for country now. When once I saw the foe's dread deeds, Revenge burned high and higher still Till not tenfold their number dead Would satisfy my bloody soul! son speaks : Raise not again the bloody past 'Tis bitterness enough for me To know that dead are friend and foe, To see again a mad man's dreams. Can we endure this hellish rain: For still we are but mortals now Condemned for time to earthly lot. 18

Page 21 text:

.!4lfL6! IfA6 M1810 lfl,l l'L86! fo Through seven years of the bloodiest warfare in the history of humanity, China has been withstanding the Japanese war-machine. The casual citizen has little or no conception of the humiliation, and disgrace, the sacrifices, and suffering, which China has faced during those years. The initial battles fought in China, regardless of how heart-rending they have been, reveal the lack of unity, which has proved fatal to the Chinese in many instances, China had no encouragement towards the defense of her country. The mere capture of Nankow, Peiping, Tientsin, Tsinan, and Tsingtao was only a prelude to the atrocities which were to follow. At 10:35 a.m. on October 2, 1937, the bombs began raining down on a helpless city, Nanking, Chiang Kai-shek's southern capital. The first wave did little damage, for it was driven off by American-made Curtiss Hawk pursuit planes, manned by the Chinese pilots. At 11:15 a.m. the second wave appeared. On, and on, hour after hour, day after day, week after week, the raids continued. The Japanese were determined to wipe Nanking off the face of the earth, nothing was spared. At the railway station, and its Hsiakwan slums, the too young, too old, too poor, too sick, or too ignorant to have left Nanking, were blown to Kingdom Come. For those that died there, and their blood still stains the streets, the war was short-lived. The bombs had fallen. Their miserable huts were ignited, the people were blown to bits, the living were seared, the dead cremated. Yes, for these the war was over, their suffering was no more. The Chinese did not ask for this war. Nevertheless, it was infiicted upon them. They have fought, they have cried, they have suffered, they have died. On and on, the battle of China continued: people died, cities were destroyed, the burden of war became heavier. In her humility, in her sacrifices, in her glory, China has stood. She is determined to fight. Her cities have been gutted, and her people killed. But China stands. To China, a country of four hundred million people, no one sacrifice is too great. ROBERT OETTING- Term Four. N , 514 I fic .5 JV iS'.3gt,: SM e-1 was E. F. 17

Page 23 text:

The The No longer do We fight for gain. We hunger, thirst, and hug this earth. Still do the bullets bite and kill And tear the mortal flesh apart, Still do the smells of death remain And groans of dying fill the air. Does vict'ry come from loss, defeat? Is hope thus born of blackened earth? Or will all earthly life now cease Upon the brink of vanity? father speaks .' These things full Well I know, my son, I'm not too blind as now to see The fearful weather thus to come. I'm not too dull as now to hark The jeering laugh, the hopeless sigh. Come from your shell of self-concern! Dream not Within your morbid soul Of what could be, but of what is, Of barren ground, of bleak gray sky, Under which a friend does lie. Is it in vain, this solemn death? Is now the cause we fought for lost Because the foe has triumphed still? Up from the grave some fretful night Will come to us a long dead ghost And in revengeful Wrath will say, I died in vain, my cause you lostg I died in vain, my cause you lost. Think, my son, of conscience now, Can this be borne throughout your life Questioning the God's own Word? 'Tis better now to die, and live Than now to live, and later die. For even if in War We perish No empty phrase shall mark our grave But greater still, a noble death Advancing further freedom's cause. Nay, not in this so falter, son, For falt'ring now is later loss. son speaks : Forgive me, father, not were mine Those empty Words untimely born Of lips so sick of endless War. e But now I see a picture bright, The fog is gone, the sky is clear. 19