Central Collegiate Institute - Ye Flame Yearbook (Regina, Saskatchewan Canada)

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om. ...wo 3. f LITERARY J 'it Qfrffrl livluig ALITE FLAMMAM Alite Flamrnam is our motto, A hand with a torch is the sign. With a courage rare, We must carry that Hare, The duty is yours and mine. A We should have the spirit of Central, When We enter the first year form, It Will help and cheer, from year to year, If We keep it glowing and Warm. We will carry the torch through Central And when We're through We'll find Our flaming brand is, With eager hands, Held up by the hosts behind. 7 W'hen We finally leave old Central VVe Will keep its spirit true, But as We pass to a higher class, We leave this thought With you, May your light shine on through Central, May the motto n'er grow old, And proudly stand, with the torch in your hand, By the purple and the gold. MARIANNE NIACDONALD, Form IK 19

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REMINISCENSES Hugh Wayne looked silently at the great bronze commemo- rative tablet before him. Old friends, comrades-in-arms, had owned these names. Some were dead, some in high positions, some tramping the road. He, himself, was but one more transient in shabby clothes, but his broad shoulders and slim waist, and his soldierly carriage gave him distinction. His good-humoured, square-jawed face bore a pensive expression, but his right cheek was marred by a. long scar. 1914 was a horror-stricken year for Canadians. The tales from the front and the remorseless German drive with its useless cruelty filled the enlisting offices as nothing else could. Hugh Wayne and Lance Cole were chums in every sense of the word. When Central Collegiate was first opened, the two had met as second years, both fifteen. Together they had skipped classes, worried teachers, and done everything of which a boy of their age could think. Hugh's father was lame and was not a.ccepted for the service, while Lance had lost his in the Boer war. Therefore, it was their one ambition to get in the army. It was a pair of shame-faced boys that went home one night after cheerfully lying about their ages. The recruiting officer unfortunately knew them, and smilingly sent them home, t'Curious, he remarked, 'chow much older the Collegiate boys have grown since the war broke out! Hugh remembered with a grin the time he had pensively thrust out a foot just as one of the teachers was backing down the aisle. Then there was the day Lance had poured half a bottle of ink down his back. Yet, with all their fun, they spent spare time practising drilling and shooting with a rifle owned by Hugh's father. 1915. Still Hugh and Lance were gloomy, fearful that the war would end before then chance came. That was the year they had broken the blackboard and risen to high commands in the cadets. Lance's eighteenth birthday came at la st, but he managed to wait a month for Hugh's birthday. Thanks to Lance's uncle, a colonel, and also to their ability, they received commissions. 1916. France, sunny France! Anything but sunny felt Hugh as he thought of the marches in the rain, the cold, and then the wet trenches. He lingered his scar. That nearly sent me west, he mused, 'HI can see it all--. Over the top! That was a command that did not tend to cheer one up, but Lance and Hugh were always first over. There was one great attack they made, but it was a dangerous one. The Germans swept their ranks with machine-gun fire and shells, and met their attack with bayonets. Hugh had received his scar when he deflected an officer's sword-thrust from Lance, and it dazed him. He found himself in the German lines with Lance trying to rescue him. Unfortunately they were both captured. ' 20