Buffalo Seminary - Seminaria Yearbook (Buffalo, NY)

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SEMINARIA 1944 23 Il Child nf War PRIZE ESSAY My name is Penny. I am sixteen years old. I am a child of war. Everything I remember has been of war. When 1 was very little, just old enough to understand grown ups' words and children's ideas, people were still talking about the last war. It was called the World War. It never occurred to them there would be another one in their time. When I was just old enough to comprehend the world about me an Italian dictator conquered a world of black people. At that time my favorite friend was a colonel in the United States Army. He said that he talked to me because no one else would listen to him. But I would, because I liked the sound of his voice and his words even if I did not quite understand him. He said that we should go to war and stop the dictator right away. I listened intently and loved him for the feeling in his voice. My father discussed him that night at dinner. He said that he was a nice person but quite unreasonable. He wanted to go to war. To me war was a game my brother and I played with his soldiers. We messed up the living room and mother became cross. That was war for me then. Nothing seemed very serious. Daddy talked of going back to his beloved Paris. He wanted me to go with him. I had never seen Paris although I had heard much about it. Life went on with Daddy very busy as usual. Our trip to Paris was planned when Paris fell. The Germans did an unheard of thing. They marched into Daddy's beloved Paris. I was shocked. I was confident, however, that Daddy would make everything all right for Paris as he did for me. England was at war then. The colonel told me that we should go to war now. He said that no one else thought so but that he was sure that war for us was the only answer. I was getting older then. I was learning about the world. But I was confused. The colonel shouted war. Daddy shouted war and freedom for Paris. I had learned then, with a dreadful awakening, that Daddy could do nothing for Paris, the colonel could do nothing about the war, and the whole world was in an awful mess. Washington was full of idiots and America was full of Nazi spies. The colonel screamed that we must fear the Japanese. Everyone laughed at him and said to watch Germany. My parents were worried but life went on. Next it was neutrality, lendflease, peace, war, you can't do business with Hitler, Paris is in German hands, Nazi brutalityg and I was growing into my teens. Then the blow came. War for the United States from Japan was a reality instead of a mad man's cry. It was not very real then but I was to learn very soon. My colonel was killed in the Philippines by the Japanese. I had my first real taste of hate and death

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22 SEMINARIA 1944 bombs that fell on the helpless Czechs and Poles that we did nothing about then and that our dead balance all the other European dead that we did not avenge when we should have. You understand? Quite It is a faith in God's justice, shall we say. Yes that's it. A faith in God's justice. And with this faith you have been able to surmount the tragedy of personal injuries. But yet, you would not be sorry to be away from it all? No-- he deliberated a moment, no, I would not be sorry to be away from it all. j As Ockley turned to the stranger, he discovered that he had gone as mysterf iously as he had appeared. Then he noticed one of the stranger's black gloves on the cobblestones. He stooped to pick it up, but all this time he had been oblivious to the steady droning coming closer and closer and then -- They found him in the morning where he had been thrown clear of the bombed building. The villagers were amazed at the serenity of his countenance. They could easily see that this man had passed from the world most peacefully. But what struck the onlookers as being extremely odd was that clutched tightly in the dead man's hand was a small black glove. -BETH BOWMAN, '46 PROCESSIONAL Forth from the river, Up from the grass, Down from the pasture, Sung by ev'ry lass, A welcome Gt for any king But chanted for our wilesome spring: Chirped by the robins, Rustled by the trees, Hummed by the meadow, And whispered by the breeze. -JEAN Kuoci-nz, '44

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24 SEMINARIA 1944 when that news came. I would not believe it. The man who had shouted that we must fear japan was dead because no one would listen to him. They said that he was mad. He was mad as a genius was mad. War came into my life completely then. The movies were war, the papers were war, the comic strips were war, the latest books were war and I was just fifteen. The boys I knew went into the Army. Many of my friends' fathers were going back too. There were uniforms more frequently on the streets. In the next year almost all of my friends were in uni' form. Some of them were over seas fighting, and lighting well. One of them is still over there somewhere, missing in action. And so the war goes on in its horrible way and I am one of its children. Born and raised in its scream of terror, I have never known a world of peace. People say that I am too young, that I do not really understand, that I cannot feel it because I am too gay..I say that I do know. I have seen my friends go, I have seen refugees from warfravaged countries, I have played tennis for soldiers who cannot play again themselves, I have danced with boys who have horrible stories to tell. Yes, I understand, for I am a child of war. '-'FRANCES Puomz, '44 RECESSIONAL He sits in the muddy road, He watches a bee go by, He looks at the trucks and tanks and guns Roar on against the sky. He sits by the side of the road, And he holds his hunger there. He hears them say, Old man, move on, But the old man does not care. The old man's mind is not there, It is gone with the pride he knew, So he sits and dreams and the voices call, Move on, you stupid fool. So the trucks move on, and the tanks, For the answer is only a stare, They leave a twisted, broken form, And the old man does not care. -'FLORENCE LARKIN, '45