University of Santa Clara - Redwood Yearbook (Santa Clara, CA)

Page 11 text:

Deviled Ham (With apologies to neither Underwood nor the Devil.) Randall 0. O ' Neill, Law ' 21. IS strange, but neverthe- less ' tis true that out of that moil, that groaning toil and broiling Hell called War, full many a character, like murder, will out, to soothe and lave the red fury and rage of the carnage fest, and indelibly imprint itself upon the lasting memory of those with whom it associated — out there where the poppies blow. Of course, some are good and some are bad, with a few perhaps a great deal worse, but still withal you are glad to have known them, that their idiosyncrasies may shine down upon you from their heaven of unforgetable- ness — during a siege of gnawing nost- algia, perhaps. Now serially speaking the Gent of whom I desire to speak — or write — was known as Number One Million and One — and well might I here remark him to be one — the only one — in or out of the million ; nominally how- ever, it appears parental control dubbed him Charles W. Hogg at birth — or christening, or whenever it is that we are appended and appendixed with that which sometimes proves a life ' s burden. Now this particular bird wasn ' t a boob by any means, he was there in a great many ways. In fact, to hear him talk, for talk was his one strong point — he could orate and discourse on anything and everything, good, bad or indifferent, foolish, wise, or otherwise — with equal facility, with either hand — one would think him to be a Philadelphia lawyer just juxta-po- sitioned out there in No-Man ' s Land for the love of fighting and an un- quenchable thirst for l iberty, freedom and democracy. But whatever his act- uating and accentuating motives, it is not my purpose to here deal with his patriotic sentiments and emotions. Was he religious ? Well, not exactly. Skeptical ? Slightly. Superstitious ? More than likely. And that may be said to answer, more or less, the query as to his belief or unbelief in the super — , preter — , or simply natural both here and hereafter. Now I have hinted that he was quite a character, garrulous and otherwise, told what I knew about his religion and also said his name was Hogg. Now permit me, I beg, to inform you as to his one ambition and incentive in war ; it was none other than to bring home,

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Evening HE stately solemn Kills Take on a purple skade That richer, fuller grows As day begins to fade. Till our sweet Lady Night With fondest mother ' s touch, Spreads a soft dark blanket O ' er the hills she loves so much. And comes a gentle breeze From out across the sea. To whisper fairy tales To those great hills and me. To tell me wondrous things Of ships and golden sands, And what the people do In far-off dreamy lands A star comes out to listen, Then winks and blinks in glee For it knows it hears the secrets The breeze is telling me. HAROLD P. MALONEY, ' 23

Page 12 text:

10 THE REDWOOD his Satanic majesty in all his infernal pomp and glory. ' ' I gasped, I know ; my mouth parched; my heart hammered blow on blow; my inwards turned; my ears swelled ; my eye shot ; and the smell was simply horrifying — how I stood it I do not know ! ' ' Yes, there HE stood and there I sat — I couldn ' t move ! — his horns were sharp and long and his tail was a reed of fire, while his scaly scoriaceous form from his pointed head to his cloven feet was a mass of jumbling coals — a living embered leper whose very inmost mar- row boiled, burned, sizzled, and sput- tered a molten glow. Like a glowing skeleton of death he stood ; like a fervid crucible of steel ; like the cannon ' s molten spittle, seemed this demon ' s coursing veins of fire, with his inogen of flame, with his lymph of flowing, glowing liquid fire, he towered; and as he sat down oppo- site me he charged with a snort of flame and a spit of fire, a breath of thermal parchness that scorched my very hide, and fumbling a red hot deck of cards, his flaming tongue shot through his spiked teeth of fire: The game ' 11 be ' Freeze Out ' . How apt thought I this ancient game! So I ' m to play the Devil for a soul of man. On me depends salvation or perdition. He shuffled the cards and then passed to me to cut — strange, but they didn ' t burn — he dealt the mess and the game for a soul began. ' ' Not a word did we speak, not a syl- lable uttered we, but oh, I ' d have given all the world ' s ' golden silence ' for just one tiny speech ! — and now I know what is really meant by, ' thoughts that breathe and words that burn ' ! We dealt and played and soon I saw I had a fighting chance, but only a chance, because he could certainly play the game. At the last deal it was a tie score; Ave played with utmost care, for here, if ever, was there Hell to pay. Then with a forward lean, he shrieked, ' I ' ve got you ! ' But I straddled a blind and passed the bet till he was in and then I raised him — and he was mine ! And then I shrieked with joy ' You ' re a liar, I got YOU! ' — and, I had. But in my eagerness in placing my cards, my index finger protruded over the line of demarcation marked around by the ' spirit oil ' and as quick as a flash it was seared at the knuckle ; the light vanished and he was gone, and there I sat alone in darkness and jett — and though I lost a finger I had saved a soul! Then, with an air of satisfaction Ham would hold his hand up on display for inspection and swore that his story was the truth — some of the fellows would smile, and others wink, but all agreed that that was the part of him that was Deviled — and hence you have it, the prefix, the supplementary complement to the Ham . Now what he is doing or where he is, I do not know, or whether the story was false or so, but that ' s as he told it out there where the cannon glow — out where the poppies blow.