Rockland High School - Cauldron Yearbook (Rockland, ME)

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I0 THE CAULDHON tostop with the gang after a show or dance on Saturday night. He went 011 talking about the crazy hats his girl used to wear and the farewell party they had before he left, but I wasnft paying too much attention. I had heard so many of the boys voice their hopes and ambitions that I didnlt care about listening to another version of an already exhausted subject. I never was one to dwell on the insignificant ....... I remembered the frankfurter stand on our street corner, and there was an iceman too, only he was Scotch. As Tommy talked on I was home. There was the friendly policeman on Elm Street, so unlike the military police of occupied Europe. I saw our house, Dad mowing the lawn just before supper as he always did, and through the scent of burning leaves came the aroma of fresh baked pie. Mom always was the best cook in town. Insignificant . . . ?? Suddenly, hestitatingly, I realized that a holiday parade, a picnic on Sunday and all the little things which America enjoyed so freely were not as meaningless now as I had led myself to believe. For the first time in my life I knew what a first class heel I had been. I had avoided the boys since I had gone overseas. I didnit join them in their songs and card games and all for reasons that seem so trivial now. Ever since I had gone overseas I had been building a shell around myself and daring anyone to tear it down. It didnlt take much thinking on my part either to admit to myself that this was the reason for my disliking Chaplain Stewart so much every time he started playing good Samaritann, as I had called him. He was doing his best to break down this barrier of mine while all the time I was making it worse. Tommy was silent now and smiling. He must have known how I felt. He must have known what he had done to help me. I was at a loss for words. Thanksv, I managed to say. t'And one of these days I know I'll see your name up there in lights on Broadway? Without saying anything he turned away and was gone. That was a terrible thing to say, for, although I didnt know it then, It learned later that Tommy would never dance and perhaps never be able to stand again. I remained away from the rest ofthe boys as much as I could. I wanted to be alone, but not for the same reason that I had avoided them before. This time it was different. We were nearly home and I wanted to remember everything about this next hour. The white gulls were hovering aimlessly over our ship and as I stood there, watching the New York skyline, guarded by the 'goddess herself, the lump in my throat made me realize how much home really meant to me. Flora Hustus '46

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THE CAULDRON 9 HOMEWARD BOUND I was on the deck of a large transport-I and a couple thousand other guys- pushing its way to New York City. I suppose they were all thinking of getting home and back into the old swing again, but not me. Give me the army any day, I had said. I didn't think I could stand all those silly people back home for long. They were always doing unexplainable things and complaining about something that didn't matter at all. No, sir, that was not for me. All this gala celebration for the returning service man didnit impress me the least bit. Oh, we had heard the stories of how the Pied Cross and everyone from the Ladies' Aid to the Girl Scouts usually turned out to shower you with coffee and what-have-you, but I for one didn't feel much like a hero and I wanted no part of it. While I was thinking of some plan to evade all the people when we Iinally did land, I saw the chaplain coming toward me. I-Ie and I never did hit it off very well. I called him away from a window one night back at the observation post just before a shell came tearing through. When he started telling the boys how I had saved his life it sure burned me up. I only wanted him to sit down. He was making me nervous standing there, chanting in that low voice of his. How was I toiknow the shell would come through the window? Glad to be getting back, soniyi he asked casually. Why should I be?,' I asked. Is there a sale in some bargain basement?', I could see that he was thoroughly disgusted with me and after looking at me For a long minute he walked on down the deck, joking with the boys. I was about to resume my thoughts when I was aware that someone was beside me. I looked around and then down. It was a boy in a wheel chair. I couldnit help hearing what you said to Chaplain Stewart just nowf' he said :'You don't really feel that way, do you? ' I was indignant that someone should be listening to what I had to say andlafter making some remark about it, I sat down on a nearby bench. I knew he was eager to talk to someone and if that someone had to be me I might just as well make myself comfortable. I-Ic started talking about his home and folks, his high school life, and how he had won the 'prize for being the best dancer in his hometown. He even had had a contract for a Broadway show. Someone else must have thought he was a good dancer, too. That was before the war, so when the Army called, his career natur- ally had to be postponed. As I think back I realize he was recalling mostly the small things: the ride to New York on the train when he was a kid, Mike, the Italian iceman, who always used to bring him a banana from his brotheris fruit stand when he was passing by, the hamburger house on the corner where he used

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THE CAULDRON ll MISSING - - - ALL HANDS LOST As the sun sank into the hills of the mainland, significant things began to hap- pen. The1'e was heard the cry of the gulls as they flew inland onto the yet un- named mountain. The seals along the headland and reef ceased their play and barking and moved out to the open sea. Far to the southwest there was a line of ragged windlashed clouds. Slowly the mounful tune of the storm was apparent as the wind increased and blew through the rigging of the Rose Marie. The Captain standing at the forepeak viewed the storm with apprehension. He knew that his ship, seaworthy as she was, had just crossed three thousand miles of storm. He turned to his Mate and ordered the other anchor overboard, the .lashings on the furled sails secured. The Captain then went below for his supper. The men in the forecastle had their meal undisturbed by the approaching storm. After mess, they sat around in the glow of the battle lanterns sewing buttons and patching badly battered sea gear. One was making a little doll out of hemp for a child many miles away. O11 the island everything was quiet, deathly quiet, waiting for the storm to break. The only sound was the stilifening breeze moaning through the pines. Per- haps it was moaning for the ship that had to ride out the storm in the exposed harbor. With darkness it began to snow. The wind increased and began its vengeful, claiming roar. The seas raked the deck of the ship, fore and aft, and she tossed and plunged like an unbroken stallion. Still the storm increased its velocity until the seas tossed and writlied like a soul in torment. It grew colder and ice began to form on the rigging and the ship. , On the hills the pines tossed their branches to the sky. There was no light tower's gleam or clang of the bells-only the wind and the sea and the ship. Sud- denly like a shot one of the anchor cables parted. The Captain ordered his men on deck to see if anything could be done. There was only one thing to be done, that was to pray--pray that one cable and one anchor could hold the ship. Astern of them, on the reef, they could hear the surf pounding against the knife-edged granite. Slowly the roar became more distinct, closer drew the ship to the rocksg the last hope was lost. Then came the sound of rending timbers--then oblivion. The storm intensihed its fury as if in glee at finding its mission of destruction accomplished. Slowly, with the coming of dawn, the storm abated. The leaden skies broke clear and a huge orange sun arose. It looked down upon a mountain and a clean white beach, littered with white oak timbers, and a childis half-made doll. Raymond D. Bowden