Brooklyn Technical High School - Blueprint Yearbook (Brooklyn, NY)

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he gets no answer, he fired. Advancing cautiously and searching the ground, he found a tin can with a neat bullet hole. Although he was proud of his marks- manship, he said nothing to his bud- dies of how he challenged and 'killed' an old tin can. Many zfelemm were lor! in the poi! war fouflziiofz, but one ma11'.r delermimz- lion and n7dU?lIflll'0lIJ' .rpirif wired bi! 6'IIlP!0ylllEllf problem in lbir exciting but bazardolzr way. After the first World War, my father, just returned from the front, found it difiicult to obtain work, so he accepted a position as an overseer on a rubber plantation in Africa. In this capacity he had a number of interesting experiences, in one of which, display- ing exceptional daring, he quelled a group of troublesome native workers single-handed by standing in their way with a respect-commanding shotgun in his hands and fear in his heart as they tried to advance toward his bungalow. Both the natives and my father were scared, but it was the natives who re- treated while my father stood his ground. From the old generation to the new one, America has always been able to take it and take it with a smile. The heritage of grit, perseverance, and courage of our ancestors lives with us in the present. This is illustrated by the following experiences taken from the work and play of modern Americans. The titles are indicative of some of the qualities of American youth of today. FACING DIFFICULTIES Thick, dry, choking dust rose in clouds to cover the long thin line of young hikers that tramped wearily along a dry hot road- way. Here on this hot stretch of sand called the Zumie trail by the scouts of Camp Ranachqua marched a group of tired kids averaging about twelve years of age. We went on that hike just for the fun of it, and what fun we had! Tramp- ing for hours without water, chasing rat- tlesnakes away from our food supply one morning, and climbing a little hill called the Wildcat fone thousand feet almost straight upj in a sudden rainstorm, were just a few of our adventures. But we broke two records. First, we were the largest group ever to go around the trail, and second, we broke the time record for group trips. Not one of the fellows said he wouldn't go again if he got the chance. That was two years ago, and now we are planning to make the whole forty mile trip again this winter. That's Scouting for you, yet some call it a sissy's game. Last summer I held a job which is one of the comparatively little known occupa- tions of this vast city. I was employed by an automotive warehouse as a messenger, my duty being to deliver automobile parts to any section of the city. Without being too lacking in modesty, I may say that I found my job similar to that of the Pony Express. Although there were no Indians waiting in ambush, there were other haz- ards. I had to cross streets thick with au- tomobiles when I was carrying large, clumsy, and heavy packages. I recall one time when I had to cross Broadway at Forty-second Street while carrying such bulky articles that one of my eyes was temporarily out of use. Needless to say, the automobiles seemed to me then like Indians ready to attack me at the Hash of a signal fgreen lightj. The messenger of today must also possess the speed and alertness of the Pony Express rider, for time is valuable, not only to the customer, but to the boy himself, since he is paid according to the number of trips he makes in a day. So you see that except for the type of ob- 7

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Colonial warfare-rifies, cannons, uni- forms, and ammunition. He may also inspect the room in which Ethan Allen had his headquarters. It is impossible to look through the crude glass of the windows of this room without seeing images that are greatly distorted. As the visitor leaves the fort, he is chilled by the formidable aspect of the cannons protruding from the stone wall and is saddened by the old Indian pottery maker, one of the last of his kind. The lrefnendoni pre-war ifnznigration proclureil many economic problemr for the innnigranl. How he fought to exirl and lo belter hir existence is here relaled. Life was growing increasingly dif- ficult for the immigrant, who was try- ing to support his growing family in their shabby apartment in the East Side slums. He had a hard time providing the necessities of life on his eight dol- lars a week for fifteen hours a day in a sweatshop. Life was even more diHi- cult when there was no eight dollars at all. There was a union and later a strike. The grocer didn't sympathize, nor could the children go without food. But finally things changed, and there was a new job. Life was much pleasant- er with the consequent better pay, shorter hours, and Saturday and Sun- day off. The immigrant went to night school, became a citizen. He took his family to the museums, to the aquarium, and to Coney Island. So that his chil- dren would not grow up in the slums that produced criminals, he moved to Brooklyn. There I was born. IV ar fame, war the like of which had never been fought before, for the jiri! lWorlzl War introduced many inaehinei which made fighling a diffirult art. The airplane with iff armament way one of the mort intrirate of the new rnarhinef. Since my father was a machine gun 6 instructor at Kelly Field during the first World War, it was his duty to teach the pilots in training the tactical use of the Lewis machine gun. Part of this training entailed the assembling and dismounting of the gun. This op- eration had to be done blindfolded in three minutes. It all depended on the pilot's sense of touch and the ability of his body to distinguish between differ- ent parts of the gun. One pilot in the squadron could accomplish the entire operation in one minute. There were many Jacriffef on the field of baffle in the war. Many of ui have some relative who can dercribe lhe fight r.rt hand . A group of men including my father are sitting in their dugouts after trench duty. A messenger arrives with an order. It is for a mass attack in an hour. The men prepare. They wait. The signal is given. Waves of American, English, and French soldiers charge across the field. Airplanes drone over- head. The staccato of rifle fire fills the air. The Germans give. Their line crumbles. The Allied soldiers won the battle of St. Mihiel, but hundreds were left behind on the field. Some were dead, others wounded or gassed. To this day, my father suffers from the effects of the gas, and he still bears a long jag- ged scar on his arm. The war wa: not all battle and killing. A whimsically humorous account of thore bloody days i.r related thai. My uncle was nervously serving sentry duty on his first night at the front. As he paced up and down, he noticed the moon reflecting off a dis- tant object. 'Probably -a bayonet,' he thought. Twice he challenged, then, as it is a sentry's privilege to shoot if

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stacles, there isn't must difference between the modern messenger and the Pony Ex- press rider whom he applauds in the movies with such hero worship. Finding it necessary to work, I ap- plied last summer to the Swedish-Ameri- can Line for a job in the galley, where I had heard they needed helpers. I was assigned to the Ham Com. My job was to wash dishes and peel potatoes when necessary. After a few days I discovered that the job was not as easy as it had seemed at first. My day was full from the time that I washed the breakfast dishes through the afternoon potato peeling to the last supper dishes at nine o'clock, af- ter which I tumbled wearily into bed only to be awakened by the assistant steward, who had found more work for me to do. Later when we got into the tropics, I found the work almost unbearable. The galley was below the water level, and the heat was horrible. The steam from the hot dish water filled the galley, making it almost impos- sible for the workers to see each other, I felt weak all the time, and I must have lost about two pounds a day. When we returned to New York, very few of us signed on for another trip because we had had a taste of the deplorable working con- ditions aboard this floating sweatshop, and we did not think the dollar a day wage worth it. FACING DISCOURAGEMENT One day this summer when I had had it thoroughly impressed upon me that I must work, I set out and made the rounds of employment agencies in New York. I went to many, and I found the results uniform, The directors of personnel seemed pleased with my educational qual- ifications, but rejected my application be- cause of lack of experience. As I rode home, I couldn't help asking myself this vital question: 'How shall we young peo- 8 ple ever get work if every employer wants experience and no one is willing to give it to the newcomer ?' RECOGNIZING LIMITATIONS We had had terrific rains while we were camping on a small island. One morning we awoke to the sound of rush- ing water, and when we hurried to the river's edge, we found that not only had our boat been swept away, but we were endangered by a fire which had been started by lightning and was rapidly spreading. We began to construct a raft, but we were no match for the speed of the fire. The roaring inferno, the fierce clouds of smoke, and the stifling heat forced us to the river's edge. No matter where we turned we had little chance of escape, and indeed we had given up hope when some forest rangers came to our rescue. From this almost disastrous experi- ence I learned that even with man's mod- ern experience as a scientist and tech- nician, he is powerless when Nature is aroused. COURAGE I was employed as a power press op- erator this summer, and the work was so monotonous that it was difficult enough to keep awake after a full night's sleep. But when my friend, the other operator, came in one morning having had only four hours' rest, I was sure something was going to happen. Putting aside my fears, I got on with my work and had stamped perhaps a hundred metal strips when the air was rent with a hysterical scream of pain and fear. I knew by in- stinct whence it had come, and I hurried to my friend's side. As a result of his having dozed at the machine, his thumb was so badly crushed that it had to be amputated. It is true that his accident was the result of his own carelessness, but I cannot help admiring him, because I know that now, despite his handicap, he is back on the job. -