Central High School - Cog N Pen Yearbook (Newark, NJ)

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“REDEEMED” By Isadore Zuckerman He had deserted. As this terrible thought plagued unmercifully upon his entire being, the consciousness of the terrihed soldier beheld the grim, unpitying fea- tures of the firing squad. The truth of it all was so unconceivable. In his first experience at the front, his spirit had broken under the unbearable strain of it all; and he had hidden when the call for attack was sounded. He had tried in vain to go on, as the rest, but something inside had prevented. Perhaps it was the terrible sights of maimed men, shell-shocked and babbling incoherently through parched and blood- less lips. But, ah! no, unfortunately it was not so; the terrible truth could not be evaded—he was a coward. A few months before he had pledged himself to defend unto death his native land. How miserably he had failed! He was a disgrace to his regiment— one of the finest in the service. How they would despise him when they heard. Those, rough, un- daunted heroes of Mars, whose steely hearts held no mercy for a coward, would curse his name for the blot he had cast upon them. And yet was he not deserving of such contempt? Far off, miles across the wide, unrelenting ocean, he could see a lonely, grey-haired woman who beheld in her mind's eye great visions of her boy's bravery in battle. While he (a sob escaped his lips), her only boy lay hidden among the debris of a recently shelled town,—a man to be despised by all—a coward. Well could he imagine the terrible effects Madame, your son has been executed for desertion in the face of fire. No black flag with the familiar gold star would hang from her window in memoriam for the upon the dear old woman as she read: sacrifice of her only son upon the altar of her country. Hs could almost hear the cruel, unmerciful words of the crude farming people of his town as they dis- gustedly pointed out his house and said: “Thar is whar she lives, the poor old widow; :he is to be pitied, for her worthless pup of a son deserted in the face of fire, a disgrace to his Ma and the town, the dirty coward. Such talk would break her proud heart, —she of the beautiful and kindly features, upon whose knee he had oft listened to those fascinating tales of childhood. But even such thoughts revolving rapidly through his fear-possessed mind. could not alter his firm decision. He would not again face those whining, destructive shells, and the snakelike machine gun projectiles which inflicted such cruel havoc upon men. On one occasion, he himself had witnessed a

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“What that's perfectly all right, cried “big sister, and she gave him a dazzling smile. The young man's heart throbbed painfully. “I don't believe I've seen you before, she con- tinued, “but Oh. but I've seen you!” broke in the young man he explained, I live right Гуе— [Гуе wanted eagerly. ‘You see, next door and ] often see you. to meet you, he stammered. Course, interrupted Mary Louise gravely. “Josephine, this is—is-—why, I don't believe I know your name!” They all laughed gleefully; it seemed such a funny joke—-imagine not knowing this delightful young man's name! My name is Bruce Holden, he explained when they all had sufficiently conquered their mirth. Mary Louise continued the honors. “Ming is Mary Louise Mollet an’ my sister's is Josephine Mollet an' I've seen you heaps of times an' Josephine Mary Louise, said Josephine, don't you think you had better go it? It's becoming a bit chilly. Then to Bruce, Queer that I haven't noticed you— here we are next-door neighbors and 1 would never have known if ‘kid sister’ hadn't accidently induced you to stop and speak to her.” Kid sister, 'ndeed, sputtered Mary Louise in- dignant!y. Why, Bruce, she's been trainin’ me a week so's I could cry right when you came along sos you could stop and talk!” THE SOLUTION OF A GEOMETRY PROBLEM By Anna Neiss lt was a miserable morning for poor Mollie. It wa: just one minute past eight when her slim little figure, clad in a slicker and tiny beret, glided quickly down the steps of her home with the faint hope in her heart of getting a bus. Well, she didn’t care if she did come late! She didn’t care for anything It seemed to her all the world was against her. Her homework had not been prepared; and that morning of all mornings a Spanish and an economics test were to come off. She had had a squat with her brother Nat, and just near her birthday, too! Her best pair of stockings had decided to give way that morning; but worst of all was the realization that she and George had quarreled last evening and that they were angry with each other! He had, of course, not called for her to go to schoo! that morning. The rain was coming down in torrents now, and she was still waiting for the bus. The wind blew fearfully, almost blowing her from the sidewalk. Her pretty little face was all wet, and tiny little ringlets of hair fluttered all about it. She was immune to all, hcw:ver, but one thought—that of George. Suddenly her heart almost stood still! There tum- that morning! ing round the corner was George's funny painted-up little car. It was an awfully queer specimen, but to poor Mollie it always looked beautiful. Surely, he had felt sorry and had come around to take her to school. Oh, she was so very happy! She now stepped from the sidewalk, for the car was almost up to her. As it passed her, it slowed up a little, just enough for her to see her George,—yes, he did belong to her—with that spiteful little blonde—Sally! Mean little cat—she had even stuck her head out and had pointed to a new saying on the car, “Only Blondes Allowed. (Mollie was a brunette.) And George—her George—he had seen her—he had even called out with laughing, mischievous eyes and rum- pled-up blonde head, (as it always was): “Hello, baby. But Mollie couldn't blame him! She just couldn't hate him for it! She knew Sally had put him up to it all, just so to hurt her feelings. It certainly was lucky for Mollie that it was rain- ing. The tears flowed down her pretty face just as fast as she wiped them away. She made a pitiful specimen, and more than one passerby scented another love-affair amiss.