Mission High School - Mission Yearbook (San Francisco, CA)

Page 28 text:

THE M1ss1oN THE FEW The easy roads are crowded, The level roads are jammed, The pleasant little rivers With drifting folks are crammed. But off yonder where it's rocky Where you get a better view, You will find the ranks are thinning And the travelers are few. Where the way is smooth and pleasant You will always find the throng, For the many, more's the pity, Seem to like to drift along. But the tasks that call for courage And the things so hard to do, In the end, lead on to glory, For the never wavering few. ELs1E CARLSON, KNOWLEDGE In mind we saw a lad bent on learning, The lesser school could not his cravings fill, And soon the curious found him nightly burning The midnight oil, at greater College hill. He specialized and groped in truth and theory, 'Twas then we said, Your wisdom must be great, He answered thus, to this our simple query, I'm searching now to find the entrance gate. When we begin to sense our lack of knowledge- Begin to see how little is our store, Though well bedecked with honor gems at college VVe learn we're but a stone's throw out from shore. When, as we pass and college lights grow dimmer Our bearing breathes of worth and less of fame, Indeed, then first is opened life's real primer And we at last are students, true to name. ELs1E CARLSON. I24I 0630

Page 27 text:

MISSION HIGH SCHOOL '00 'IGN first of which is that a blue-eyed kid from the States is the finest he-man in Alaska. And the second is that he's going to get as square a deal as he gave! Cree joe hadn't known what to make of the strange dogs, the corpse, and the standing sledge he knew belonged to McKinley. Neither was he able to account for the wild acclaim that he received as he crossed the finish line first. Great was his sur- prise when the thousand dollars in gold was handed to him. To his credit be it said, he instantly reported the disappearance of McKinley and the presence of the strange team and the body of a dead man. As soon as the next two teams had crossed the line, and the drivers had borne out Cree Joe's statement, there began a rush back to the place where the popular young tenderfoot had disappeared. The second-raters in the race had given up and were already grouped about the spot where the body hadi lain, for it had since been removed. There was considerable mystery about what had happened, until an old prospector read the signs in the snow. His conclusions were so accurate that he told everything that had happened except the reason for McKinley's heading for Nome. A week of terrible weather prevented McKinley's return for a while. He stayed in the town, helping out as much as he could, while the disease abated. At last a day arrived when he could travel back whence he had come. But another team had gone ahead, with an hour and a half start over the magnificent brutes that drew McKinley. At that, the first driver arrived only forty minutes ahead of him. But forty minutes was plenty of time. The Nome trail had been watched ever since McKinley's disappearance, and the traveler found an eager audience awaiting him. Having told his story, he demanded the way to McKinley's cabin. He was led to it. Forcing an entry, he placed upon the table a money sack containing a thousand dollars in gold-the equivalent of the Classic prize. McKinley's townsmen weren't the people to let such a thing happen without coming in on it themselves. Consequently, considerably more than a thousand was left on the table in the cabin when the house-breakers filed out, and locked the place as securely as the young fellow had left it. There was a crowd lined up to receive the tenderfoot when he rode into town, and the cheering' and actions of his townsmen showed him that no explanations were neces- sary. When the reception was over, and he returned to his cabin, feeling within himself utterly discouraged, the first thing that caught his eye was a swollen money sack resting on the table beside a card written in a strange hand, which read, Nome Classic Sweep- stakes. He made inquiry of Cree Joe about it. The Indian having recently contributed one hundred and fifty dollars to a certain worthy cause, was unable to give him any in- formation. McKinley then sought to learn something from Guo Paulsen. The latter having recently contributed fifty dollars to the same worthy cause, was utterly ignorant of what McKinley was talking about. All his efforts at discovering the donors of the gold ending in failure, as far as his townsfolk were concerned, he sent a ,letter asking information of Dr. Seward. In return he received a nice long letter, utterly void of any information at all. So, finally, the young tenderfoot who had so successfully met the test of the North was compelled to be content, and to accept the prize for his race against Death. WILLIAM NICHOLS. f 23 l

Page 29 text:

MISWON HIGH SCHOOL 'Eli 063-0 IN THE AIR Our flying field was situated a few kilometers north of the old French city Toul, on the road that led to Pont a Musson. We had three large tent hangars that were camouflaged so that they would resemble a small forest, from an airplane in the sky. Each hangar would hold ten small airplanes. The planes we used on patrol duty were the one hundred and eighty, and the two hundred and twenty horse power French Spad. This was a compact one-man machine with two machine guns placed on the cowl. The guns were timed with the motor so that they would shoot between the propeller blades as it revolved. The steering apparatus of the Spad was a round stick about two and one-half feet long. To this stick were two wires connected to triggers, which when pressed on, released the safety catch of the machine guns. The pilot gripped the stick with his right hand and his first two fingers passed around the triggers. To shoot he would press one trigger or both as he saw fit. The machine guns were stationary, and when aiming at a target the pilot would manipulate the plane, so that the target was within the sights of a small circular sight between the two guns. When he could see the target within the circle, he would pull the triggers and the bullets would fly thick and fast. Every fifth bullet was a tracer so that the pilot could see if his shots were hitting the mark. The tracer bullet left a small stream of smoke in its wake, and observing this trail of smoke the pilot could judge his aim. We had three flights in our squadron, A, B, and C flights. Each flight had a color assigned to it, and the nose and back of the leader's machine were painted their respec- tive colors so that the different flights could follow their leader. A flight was red, B flight was blue, and C flight white. We had three patrols a day, the first patrol was at daybreak, second at 10 a. m., and third at 2 p. m. Each machine had three men working on it to keep it in condition, one man was in charge, generally a Sargeant, with two Privates working under him. The machines were placed in a straight line in front of the hangars. The man in charge would see that it was filled with gasoline, oil and water, test the wires, braces, steering apparatus, and then he would run the motor until it was warm and then give the motor a thorough testing. When he said the machine was O. K., the pilot would climb into the seat and take off into the wind. The leader of the flight would circle the field until he reached the desired altitude. The other machines would follow their leader, and when they were in flight formation CV shapej the leader would then head for the front lines looking for machines of the enemy and all prepared for combat. We had an insignia painted on one side of each machine. Our Captain was a graduate of Princeton University and we used his college insignia, an orange tiger with black spots. When an enemy machine was brought down, we painted the helmet of the enemy under the forepaw of the tiger, signifying that another enemy machine was added to our list. CHARLES ZERLANG,DPC.J26,f-lI5i14ff Squaflron. l 25 l