Butler High School - Magnet Yearbook (Butler, PA)

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10 T H E S E N10 R fM A G N E T Buddies Ella Snydek Early in 1917 there came to America a plea, a clarion call for help, and America said, “We are coming, Lafayette.” So Red went into service among the very first, and, in camp became famous for two things, one his everlasting smile, the other his skill as a potato peeler. llis captain was a jolly fellow, half dreamer and half soldier, a man with high ideals and a friendly heart, whom the boys called “Cappy.” He was beloved by his boys because he could shoot a “cruel crap” and play a straight game of poker—and he was a born mixer. Perhaps you don’t quite get the connection between Red and Cappy, so I’ll explain. At first it was Cappv’s keen sight at inspection which caused a private interview—Red had a button olf. “What’s your name?” Cappv asked. “Red,” with a grin. “Red who?” “My full and baptismal name is George William Henry—” “That’s enough,” interrupted Cappy, smiling. “I’ll call you Red. Now, sir. you know you are supposed to keep all the buttons on your clothes, don’t you?” “Yes, sir,” with a grin. “You know there is a punishment for disregard of such rules, don’t you?” “Yes, sir.” “Well,” and Cappy stroked his chin, “would you prefer a week in the guard house, or a week potato peeling?” “Guard house, for mine,” Red told him. “Urn, hum, you may peel potatoes, beginning at noon.” And so Red peeled potatoes, improving with practice, and Cappy watched and smiled. Private interviews were frequent (for Red was only a Ereckles grown up), but somehow Cappy’s punishment lacked a sting and the two soon became friends with an attachment as deep and lasting as it was unvoiced. And then they were sent “Over There,” to a country, trapped, bleeding, despairing, such was Erance. At this time every man was needed, no one could be spared if he could hold a gun. In the Erench army there were fathers standing side bv side with their sons, and even grandfathers were not exempt. Women had given over the housework to the small children and the aged grown ups. Every eligible person fled to the munitions factories and turned out as much war supplies as the country’s fast diminishing resources could command. Times were hard; Hindenburg was coming, faster, nearer, relentlessly! In Paris the fussed ladies were packing their band boxes and preparing to flee at a moment’s notice. And then “ They came! A million Yankee boys, hurrying, grim and strong to fight for a country’s ideals.” And smiling still in red-haired radiance came Red and Cappy. The Company stopped at a little town which was battered as a hero’s helmet, and awaited orders. 1'here was no time to play, however, for orders came almost immediately, a scout was to report the chances for an advance. Cappy knew his two best scouts, the two who would learn most and risk least —Red and a fellow called Ham. He could recall many good points in both, but neither was the better. He called them in and settled the question by a tossed coin—Ham must go. He went, equipped with telephone, wire cutters, a grin, and instructions to report

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THE SENIOR INI AG N E T 9 Would he ever see him again? Yes, he would, and soon at that. It was the third week after the news of the gold strike that Dick Bennet found himself in Boron, now a bustling camp. He was walking about the camp inquiring where the best strikes were being made so that he might stake one out for himself. He came upon a group of men gathered in a ring in which there was a tumult of legs and arms thrashing about. He inquired of a fellow standing near what it was all about anil got the reply. “Well, it seems that two fellows came into camp about two and a half weeks ago and one of them was almost killed by a dog he was unharnessing. His pardner, that’s him on the bottom now getting pounded to pieces, was beating the dog to death when another man, the one who’s on the top now, stopped him and took the dog away. Now they’re fighting it out and the one who wins gets the dog.’’ Finally the struggle ceased and the winner arose, his clothes torn to shreds, and commenced to walk away amid cheers when Dick rushed up and grabbed his arm. “Why, hello Bill old boy, what are you doing, scrapping over a mere dog?’’ and it was the same man who used to tramp the street with Dick. “Well, you’ll see if you come to the house.” So they went to the house and as they opened the door, a large dog rushed upon Dick’s companion and tried to lick his face. Then seeing a stranger, he backed away until he caught the scent of his old master, for he did not recognize him as he had grown a mustache and also was not shaven. Dick saw and knew the dog. “Why, Chap can it be you!” And the dog leaped to his old friend who luckily had found him unexpectedly, and there certainly was a joyful night spent in that cabin, and Dick thanked his friend over and over for having saved his dog Chap. -B.H.S GRADUATION Floyd Bowers When it comes to graduation All we Seniors feel quite blue, Tor we must part from one another, Quite sad but still ’tis true. In our four years of study, East each other we do fly, Never realising the strong friendship That we build here bye and bye. Hut after we just know each other, And all the faces grow familiar, Graduation comes along and from us Their faces it does sever. In future years, when we look back, Sad thought will come into our mind When we just then begin to wonder Where the others we could find. Some may leave our memory shortly, Others not so brief a time; That’s one reasoti why graduation Does not sweetly with us chime.

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7 H E SENIOR £M A G N E T every quarter hour, whether or not he was making progress. Until midnight everything went well. Ham was safe and finding out a great deal—hul then the signals stopped; two hours dragged by and then a huge crash followed by a single word flashed back to the waiting operator, Done—” There was a deathly silence. Gappy was notified— Call Red, was his only comment. Red came, tousled and sleepy. I le made Cappy a drowsy salute and stood at rumpled attention. Red,” said Cappy, and his voice was hard, Red, you’ve got to go over.” In the flash the somnolent dough boy was wide awake, alert, ready for his orders,—a man, and a soldier. He did not speaK until Cappv’s commands were given and then, “If I don't get back when the rush is over, take care of my belongings, Cappy.” That was all and with a quick clasp of Cappy’s hand, he was gone into the shell-torn night, smiling his everlasting smile, the fire of his gleaming hair smothered out by his helmet. Cappy knew no rest that night. The winged messages flared back and forth like fire flies, from scout to operator and back again, until the small hours. And then, within two minutes, came two O’ K's—one from Red and one from the “Big Chief.” The advances were on! Every Yankee niuskateer rushed forward, facing the hellish blare of cannon; quaking as an unseen gas polluted the morning air; waiting for the unguessed shell from an aeroplane above, dealing death and worse. And all the while the three sisters went on with their spinning, stopping a million times to break the threads with their skinny, nimble fingers. They must have been busy that night. While Cappy led his men across, Red was retreating, seeking some rude shelter in which to repair his damaged telephone. Finally there peeped up at him a de-lapidated morsel of stone wall, making an angle, an ideal shelter—one side of which faced his enemy while the other protected his right side. Here he worked busily while time flew, missed by the shells which whistled and cracked all around and above him. It seemed he could hear a voice calling, even amid the din and noise around him. It appeared to be far away, weak, yet recognizable. I le looked around the side of his hiding place, but saw nothing; yet he was sure—and—suddenly he knew. 1 le peered cautiously over the top, to see the object of his thoughts, Cappy torn and bleeding. Red pulled him within the rude shelter and rested him as comfortably as he could on his own strong arm. I le felt a dry hard lump in his throat, for he knew that Cappy, his buddie, was done. “Red,” the dying man’s voice made him start, “I guess you’ll have my things to take care of—smile old scout, and take off your helmet,” he struggled hard for strength to go on. “1 want to go out seeing you like—that—his voice limped into silence, but his eyes were rational and smiling. And then and there George William Henry did the hardest thing of his life— he smiled, and his red hair gleamed in the early light, while his heart tugged at its bonds, while those watching eyes grew dim, until the body bacame limp in his arms. Cappv was gone—Cappy, his Buddy, was gone—.