Soldan High School - Scrip Yearbook (St Louis, MO)

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You sleep like a Boche when we get through with 'eml Yuh 'wake?- Well, listen: get yourself together and make it snappy! We have orders to go 'over the top' at ten-fifteen. Scotty crawled from his position of shelter, and shaking the snow from his coat, made himself ready. His little nap had refreshed him and after taking a nip of strong rum he was ready. There was always some- thing revolting to him in all of this terrible business. Over the top -stumbling, running, panting across No Man's Land -tearing through entanglements of barbed wire, and then, if not stopped by a piece of lead, to plunge a whetted bayonet into a fellow-human being. Gruesome, terrible, inhuman business-always his whole instinct revolted. A He had now been with his Canadian fellows for almost three years, yet nothing could harden him to this matter-of-fact way human lives were sacrificed. Again he repeated to himself: I am fighting for principle. It is right. justice will- Fix bayonets ! Scotty's reflections were cut short by the whispered command passed down the trench, to be followed by: Over the top ! Rifle in hand, he scrambled up. A thin line of his fellows was on either side. Stealthily but swiftly they pushed into No Man's Land, then-puff !-a German star-shell Flared overhead-the attack was uncov- ered. A shot and a hoarse shout came from the Boche lookout. A red rocket hissed high above the trenches-a signal to the artillery, and then hell was loosed. The thin line of crouching Canadians was transformed into an onslaught of battle-crazed demons. No more of stealth or hiding, for now the Teuton heavy guns had been warned and their terrible death messengers were on the way. Then came a screech-a demoniac scream-a terrible explosion, and Scotty, half-covered with dirt of No Man's Land, lay stunned. As senses came back he knew he was unhurt. Groping for his riile, he staggered to his feet. It had only been a second, for there were his comrades crawling through the tangle of wire. He stumbled toward them. Full strength came back with the desire to kill-kill-to feel the ecstasy of killing. They were through the barbed wire now-on the lip of the trench. There was the enemy. See, he is. looking up, waiting for me to loose his blood and life with a bayonet. Scotty raised his weapon and then darkness came, and unconsciousness. Scotty Finally, after a determined effort, opened his eyes. He tried to roll over on one side, but a terrific twinge of pain came from his knee. He lay still and tried to remember what had happened. He had a dim recollection of the charge, the blinding flashes of bursting shellsg then he closed his eyes from sheer faintness. Soon he became aware of the fact that he was hungry, intensely hungry. He tried' to sit up, but again came the awful tinge from his knee. He slid his hand down, only to find that it was bandaged firmly. Scotty blinked his eyes and looked 14

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.-va,--eff 4- wir, .f L' .. sf e- - fb' 3 ..- .2 ,Yi-.2 - fg.!A-N:- . V QQ-V 1. i-.7-f . P 'Y x 1 1 4, KH P: fl -L 5l,,Qis i53 No Prisoners Taken F H, BITTER wind swept across a shell-plowed field in Flanders. Qfigun Fragments of storm-driven clouds scudded across the sky. The sun came down to the western horizon--stared for a moment at the pitiful conflict of pigmy men, then sank into - a purplish bank of fog and mist. Night had come-bleak, mid-winter night of Flanders. Now and then No Man's Land sprang out of the darkness as a star-shell burst above it. From some distant pill-box came the tattoo of a machine-gun, and from farther on, the sullen boom of bigger guns. Scotty Blake, of the Third Canadian Reserves, lay huddled up in the dugout. For thirty hours he had given the best that was in him. Every aching muscle was reacting from the gruelling strain of the last great drive. His eyes were half closed. He tried to forget the awful picture of the day, the cutting wind that now crept in, the Hurries of driven snow,-the sleek trench rats that slunk back overgorged from No Man's Landf' It was almost Christmas time, and as he lay there, his body half numbed with exhaustion and cold, but his mind keenly alert, his thoughts flew back to a little cottage in Missouri-to a little one-street town where he had spent his boyhood days. He saw his mother- bustling about the kitchen. He even was conscious of the tantalizing odor of baking pie crust. He saw them all-Bob, the little brother, with a squad of his childhood friends, parading around with dishpans and broom handles, playing soldier. Scotty wondered if little Bob got the drum he had wanted so badly for Christmas. Then his mind went back-to her. Always she was the goal of his thought-he could not forget-he had tried so many times, yet the thought of her was the real vital thing that dominated his heart and life. Three years ago he had left her. A childish quarrel-hot and bitter words-all so pitiably out of keeping with what they had since suffered. In the hot surge of 'anger he had left her, just as the great war was calling Canada's men to Europe. He went with them. He had not written and of course she could not know where he was-and yet, never an hour but his thoughts had gone back to the girl whose heart was bound up in his own. And this night in Flanders, huddling in a cheer- less dugout, the pitiable folly of it all came back to him. He saw her again just as he had seen her that first time in the old apple orchard back of the little one-street town in Missouri. There she stood-the apple blossoms all about her, the june sun streaming over her, and as he saw her again he could hear her pleading for him to come back. He could feel the longing in the wistful, blue eyes looking up at him so beseech- ingly. So powerfully real was the vision that Scotty had reached out his hand to touch her. Scotty !-Scotty !-Oh, Scotty !-God! I thought you'd been killed! I3

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..-,'f:-.:7-'- -ggnifi A L-sg. -J 15- f,f Y df.: . 2542 -13.1-'-f,3T ,le s-.L-PES. around. Through a small window he could see that it had stopped snow- ing. He gazed out at a patch of clear, cold sky. Gradually it dawned upon him that he was in a strange room. Had he been found by the Red Cross, or, perhaps, was he taken prisoner by the Boches? Slowly turning his head toward the center af the cabin, he saw, lying at the foot of his cot, a man in German uniform. Scotty's heart sank. ' The man stirred, and lifting himself on his elbow, looked up. Cold 9 he asked, noticing the shiver that passed over Scotty. Nope, Iim O. K.-say, is this a prison camp, or what P For some reason or other, Scotty liked the looks of this big, broad-shouldered, clean-cut fellow. The Boche was getting up now, taking off his coat with the evident intention of giving it to his charge. ' Aw, keep your coat. Sure enough, I'm not v-very c-cold. The German said nothing, but after throwing his heavy, warm coat over Scotty, drew up a box and sat down beside him, leaning his elbows on his knees. In a minute he began to speak in good, unbroken English: Never mind just where you are. Here-take a drink of this, you look weak. Scotty did as he was bid, while the German reachedover to his knapsack and took out a piece of dark bread and a small can of meat, which he opened and dumped out on a little tin plate. This is not quite so good as they usually give you Englishmen, is it? he asked with a smile, proffering the food to Scotty. Say, Fritz, don't call me an Englishman! returned Scotty with heatg 'Tm an American-born in the State of Missouri, U. S. A. Well, for God's sake-say- are you telling me right? he added suspiciously. ' Scotty looked up. The German seemed to be all aquiver with excitement. You don't think I look in any condition to be 'kidding' you, do you, Fritz? The German smiled. By the way, where did you learn to speak English as you do? Do they teach that over in your country along with destruction of hospitals, the murder of women and the making of those infernal Krupp guns ? The German winced, then laying his huge hand upon Scotty's shoulder, he exclaimed, Why, man, I was born in the very state you come from. My brother, my sisters-all of them-are living to-day in St. Louis. You see, my folks were German, but I was born in Americag was over here visiting when the war came, was rushed to the front. It certainly is good to see someone from America. That's one country I d never fight against. ' ' Scottyis surprise showed upon his face. He leaned over and thrust out his hand. Put 'er there, friend, I want to shake the hand of a real man. Scotty leaned too far. His knee twitched, and the intense pain of it caused him to emit a low groan. His breath was comingfaster. He felt himself growing weaker. 15