Far Rockaway High School - Dolphin Yearbook (Far Rockaway, NY)

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had first met. It seemed a long while ago. Then most of them were just names, Polish names, Russian names, Irish names, names that the corporal had a hard time pro- nouncing when mail arrived. Now they were more than names, they were men, men of flesh and blood, with whom I had lived, eaten, joked and fought. When we went out there today, some of us never to return, there was a bond of companionship be- tween us as strong as any force on earth. We were buddies. I thought of the day I enlisted. It seemed a long time ago. As I stood on line, I almost changed my mind. What would they say at home when I told them I'd en- listed? When I did tell them, they didn't believe me until I showed them the red crayon marks the army doctors had made on my chest . . . I got up to stretch my legs. As I did so I spied Hank stretched out on his back, smoking. I remembered the time he'd played a trick on me and my revenge nearly caused his death. He had come in late one night feeling very gay and decided to throw my shoes into the stove. I was so enraged I gave the poor guy a blow that sent him sprawling on the snow outside. It was pretty cold and I was sorry for it later but there he lay in the snow all night until we woke him up in the morning. Hank was nice about it, though, and even offered to make me a present of a napkin holder he had undoubtedly swiped from some restaurant to make up for what had happened. However, I declined the offer. What would I do with a napkin holder in the army? . . . I leaned on my elbow and looked down the road where I could just make out a sergeant talking with some officers. Seeing him brought to my mind a dressing down we once got from a sergeant: You stupid idiots! Haven't I been able to get anything through your thick skulls since you got into this army? Giving up your guns when you were on guard duty! What if it was an officer? Suppose it had been an enemy in an ofIicer's uniform! What would you do, you guys who are supposed to be guarding this camp? You'd politely hand over your gun to him and immediately be shot with it! Why, you nin- compoops! Get this straight! When you're on guard, don't hand your gun over to the general himself ! It's funny, I thought, that at a time like this it's the little things that come to your mind. And as I looked around at the men near me - Red, the college graduate who was so fond of comic books, Joe, the guy that blew in all his pay for months back to fly home to see his folks, Tony, the cook who used to be the most popular man in camp when he gave out extra pies and cakes, Hank, with his fondness for practical jokes, and all the rest-thinking about these men who had come from all walks of life, from all parts of the nation, made me realize for the first time what really makes America great . . . As we marched off that field of battle, as glorious as Valley Forge or Gettysburg, there came to us, through the gathering dusk, the clear notes of a bugle, sounding over the graves of those who had died there that day. Sl

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AFRICAN INTERLUDE BY ALLAN BERGER tv! Across the river the Germans had ceased Hring. The battered remnants of their tank force turned back toward the town from which, only a short while before, they had so confidently sallied forth. Soon all that remained on the recent field of battle were the burnt-out wrecks of destroyed tanks and the dead. We who had taken part in the engagement lay exhausted on the African soil and stared with unseeing eyes at the wounded as they were carried away. Overhead, framed against the clear blue sky, our aircraft droned peacefully. For many of us this had been our first taste of actual fighting. It would take some time for the effects of it to wear off. As I gazed around at the men with whom I had so recently fought, I couldn't help thinking back to the time when they and I 50

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Across the rolling waves they came, Hard pressed hy tyrants' tyranny, And fought a fight that we still fight, A struggle for Democracy. A fight once won, Yet just begun. Across the rolling hills they toiled To till the soil, and reap the grain, To feed the child for greater gain. The harvest reaped, The seed just sown. Across the rolling plains they came, On rolling wheels in search of gold, And some grew rich and sonze grew 0 ld, Few found gold, and none found gold, Yet all found gold. Wfatch the gently rolling furrows, As the plowman swiftly burrows Through the rich hlacla heavy soil. Watch the golden grain now growing, Rippling in the hreezes hlowing Row on row of yellow corn. An-rl' the hlood -red sun now setting, brings to all A call to arms. See them come from east and west, From many different places, Withoiit regard for race or creed, To fill our country's greatest need, For men to fight for freedom. Across the rolling waves they came, Hard pressed hy tyrants' tyranny, And fought a fight that we still fight, A struggle for Democracy. A fight once won, Yet just hegun . . . S2 GOLD AND WHEELS BY SEYMOUR VALL M I s 'A .na .1 -us , , 1,2 5. E f i Aix so . , 2 '