Abington High School - Oracle Yearbook (Abington, PA)

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It takes the peril of battle to settle A Point oi Honor Charhe muttered, Let them come. He wa,sn't afraid now. Not now, no not after ---. His thoughts strayed back a few days. It had been a bright, clear morning not unlike the mornings he had been used to. Later in the day Colonel Tyndell had asked for two volunteers to make sketches of the possible defensive and offensive posi- tion of the island. Nothing risky. At the most there were just a few crazy guerrillas left on the island. Of course, Bud had to go, and, of course, Charlie had to follow. It had been like that as long as Charlie could remember. Bud would volunteer and lead, and Charlie, frightened and unsure of himself, would follow. As Charlie had watched the speed boat, the last link with the base, disappear, he had felt his stomach turn cold. Their third day on the island a sudden hail of bullets cut their path. Panic seized Charlie. Darting behind a small row of shrub and rock, out of any immediate danger, he swiftly worked his way to the shelter of the jungle, keeping well below the guns that had not ceased firing. Glanc- ing fearfully around, he saw that Bud hadn't fared as well as he had. He was lying in a partial shelter, the front of his shirt stained a dull red. Charlie glanced at Bud's rifle, a scant fifty feet away, marking the spot of the ambush. He turned quickly, pale and terrified, and ran head- long into the jungle. After running for what seemed a year, THELMA KALEN, '51 he fell behind a thick clump of bushes. He listened intently. The shots had stopped- not a soundg it was like a nightmare, Charlie thought. Then eight quick shots shattered the terrible silence, followed again by a period of stillness, which was quickly broken by three screams. Charlie covered his head and cried. The fear he had known slowly changed to calmness, and from calmness to a grow- ing hate. He had to find Bud. Darkness had closed an ominous' curtain over the island. Everything was stillg even the animals were silent. But for once Charlie found strength in the darkness and quietg he had to prove something to himself-

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with each other exchanged their common hopes and fears. Society as such was for- gotten. The richest family was in as much danger as the meanest. Death would come to all at once. Money would make no dif- ference, nor would color or race. Men, their reserve forgotten, talked to anyone they met and were surprised to find that, underneath, each felt the same. All crime had practically stopped. What was the sense if you wouldnlt be alive to enjoy the fruits of your evil deeds? The pursuit of business for profit stopped, only habit and the need of something to occupy the mind kept the people working. People paid their debts and returned even the smallest favors. The churches were packed, not only Sun- day but every day in the week as people prepared their souls for the end. Christmas passed, then one night, as suddenly as it had appeared, the light The trees are bare, They have shed their bright cloaks And sleep till spring will warm their tired, old limbs, And the sap once more will iiow through the gnarled veins. Dreariness clutches the earth, Casting its shadow on the soul of man. Winter brings a fast from nature 's beautyg The poet and the artist sleep. But wait, You who sadly languish for the spring! The morning rays of light sparkle On the window pane. Outside, the earth is covered with a sheet of starlike crystals, The trees reach to the sky with coats of ermine. Nature does not long hide herself Among dark clouds. vanished, still unexplained, never to be explained. Life went back almost to noranalg busi- ness was resumed, towns sprang to life again. But the memory remained and always would. The effects of the experience would last a long time. Once the reserve of a people has been broken down, it is hard to build up again. The entire country had become a friendly place, and each in- habitant felt himself neighbor to people throughout the country. Men had had a. preview of eternity and would remember it forever. Months afterwards, the following Christ- mas, in fact, a little boy, listening to his mother read the Christmas story, broke into the tale with, Was that light every- one was so seared of the Christmas sta.r, Mommy? JANE NEIDE, '51 W fav' f X NORMA ENGlE'L.HARDT, '52 P-maniac First prize poem in poetry contest DAVID KLEINBARD, '51

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and to Bud. After groping through the dark, he neared the spot of the ambush. The gnats were out in force, and a lone mosquito made the only audible noise. The form his hands touched was cold and life- less when he turned it over. A small trickle of blood ran from the tightly closed mouth. Even now he could sense them closing p A Fine Day I t 's clear today. The sky is blue, And earth reflects the gold of the sun,- Dry leaves scatter before my feet With a sound like corn flakes without milk. Milkweed pods and shriveled stems .Litter the path through the fikeld to the wood, Where deep-erlimsoned giants spread tat- tered arms against the blue. Skeletons remain of many, which, Having dropped their tawny blankets, fell asleep. Tomorrow will be more normal. It will rain, And the laughing leaves will perish into brown mold. The tinted hills will dull to pale heavens,- The framework of the woods will lose its lingering crop of fiery hair, And await the snow-white of old age. Anyway, we live today. PATRICIA WELLS, '51 W TH ELMA KALEN, '51 in. He would Welcome them. Let them come, he said aloud. . Suddenly a rifle spoke from the dark- ness, then another and another. Charlie answered their scattered fire with a. brief volleyg then a knife rose and fell. And the jungle was quiet. RALPH PILLISOHER, '51 ff' if 'fi-:,, nm, End of Summer Yellow goldenrod, Balmy September day, Deck summer in one last splendor, l And sadly lay her away. Scarlet sage And leaves of brown, Softly, softly bed her down. Clover, Wild aster, And Queen Anne's lace, In wreath, in spray, Adorn her resting place. Look at her, Ah, look at her and sigh That one so loveky had to dwg Look at her and turn away, For this is Summer's last sweet day. h KARL KNAUER '51