Eastern High School - Punch and Judy Yearbook (Washington, DC)

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10 THE EASTERNBR Eastern in the Great War From Our Wounded W. O. McCarrrey, '11, lieutenant, Quartermaster Corps: While on a motorcycle trip “Bill” McCaffrey suf- fered a very painful injury, which later proved to be More serious than it was at first thought. Here's wishing you better luck next time, Lieutenant Mc- Caffrey | HERMAN B, Lawson, ex.-'13, corporal, Infantry: During recent fighting Private Lawson's hip was Pierced by a machine gun bullet. He is now recover- ing in a French hospital. Rarpu E. Octe, '13, captain, U. S. Infantry: “Am just recovering from a ‘little present’ I re- ceived up in the Argonne Forest. This is quite a Pretty place and about as swift as Monte Carlo.” Wayne Garman, ex.-'16, corporal, Field Artillery: Word has been received that Wayne Garman, for- merly of Eastern’s Football team, is recovering from shrapnel wounds in a French hospital. A Word from the Faculty J. H. Partrick, lieutenant, Engineers: “You may be interested to know I have been teach- ing for the last six months, at present in the Army Intelligence School. Since receiving my commission T have specialized in aerial photography. It is a new and interesting study taking me above the clouds at times. You would be surprised to know the extent of the A, E. F’s school system. They work it on quite a sound psychological basis. You study first, then observe, next teach, and then do the actual work. I am leaving tomorrow for the front to do the actual work.” How About Sherman’s War? Hewce C, Dreserun, ’15, lieutenant, Engineers: “I now bear the official title of R. T. O., Perigeux, which means that I am no less a person than the Rail- way Transportation Officer of this grand and glorious city. It has befallen my lot to live a life of comfort and luxury such as France has to offer in time of war. I have a cozy room on the third floor of an old substantial residence, with richly upholstered furni- ture, a large bed to sink in of a night, electric lights, an open fireplace with glowing embers this very min- ute. Does that sound like war?” American Spirit in War Grorce R. Burton, ’16, private, First Corps School: “The spirit of the men is wonderful. The only difficulty is to restrain them. After a raid or an attack, recall has to be blown several times to get them back, and to get them to give Up ground is im. possible. ‘They won't yield an inch. Besides that we have helped drive the Boche out of the air. He is helpless in the air except for night raids. Just to show you a few instances of individual fighting, I will cite a few cases. A private in the Engineer Cory when a position was raided, killed eight Huns with a spade, Not so bad for one man, what? A lieuten: ant rushed a pill box or concrete fortification with machine gun occupied by one officer and twenty-five men, killed nine men and captured the officer and sixteen men, and carried the machine gun back to his own line. We are certainly going to clean up when we get our men all ready to take over the front.” War in Full Swing W. A. GaLLanan, ‘17, sergeant, U. S. Marines: “] have been over the top twice in the past seven weeks, and, believe me, I had a lively time. I haq a few narrow escapes but emerged from the front both times without a scratch. I had two pieces of shrapnel to hit my helmet, and one machine gun bullet to glance off the same piece of headgear. My battalion oa very fortunate both the times up. We attained our objectives both times, but not without some hard fight- ing. After dodging whiz-bangs and machine gun bul- lets we had little time for anything else. I don’t guess you know what a whiz-bang is, so I shall try to de- scribe one. It is a shell about 3 inches in diameter that passes over your head with a whiz, bursts behind you with a bang, then your hair stands on end and you wonder why you weren't hit. Of course, when you do get hit, you don't wonder at all. I have en- joyed the best of health ever since I have been over here, I am in the best of spirits and although it is hot at times I have nothing to kick about. Remember me to the faculty and students, and tell them that, although this is a hot scrap, I am glad to be in it.” Biology at the Front C. W. Steves, ex-’16, corporal, Aero: “You should see our collection of animals! We have fifteen rabbits, one dog, one cat, a rooster, a squirrel and a guinea keet (I know I spelled that wrong, but I can’t help it). Anyway, one of the boys told me to pick the ‘keet’ up by his tail and his eyes would stick out two inches. Of course it sounded awfully strange, but still I wanted to see all the things that nature could do. I started to do it and fotind out that a ‘keet’ hasn't a tail. Oh boy, and didn’t they kid me! You should have heard them laugh. Please don’t tell this to Miss Wilkins, for she would think me a very bad botanist.”

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EASTERN HIGH SCHOOL The Revolt HeLen WEIcEL, 11a. When Mr, Jones came home at 10:30 Pp. m., and heard the living-room clock strike 17, he was so en- raged that he kicked his wife’s tomcat across the front hall. It was very evident that Mrs, Jones was not at home. If she had been, her husband would never have dared to kick the cat; this would not have been enjoying the liberty of the house at such a late hour. Moreover, Mr. Jones would not have reached home after 10 o'clock if his wife were not away. He had long since settled into the dull routine of uneventful married life. Day after day, he shut his desk at 5:16 and joined the herd of home-seeking humanity. He arrived at his apartment each day at 6 o'clock, where he was met by his wife, Clarabelle. Supper was soon over, and Mr. Jones read the paper while his wife washed the dishes. At 8 o'clock the player piano in the flat overhead assaulted the still- ness of the evening, ably assisted by the next door neighbor's phonograph. At 9 p, m. these two dis- turbers of the peace despaired of drowning each other out, and silence reigned. Then would Mr. Jones arise, and put out the cat, which was wont to join its fel- lows under the nearest lamp post, and poison the atmosphere with lively discussion and solos. Mr. Jones was sick of the monotony of his life. On Sun- days the regular order of things was slightly changed. He arose in time for dinner, after which he carefully dissected the clock, put it together again, and started it off with hopes and prayers, which, up to the present writing, had availed not. The clock generally ran properly until Monday, when it reverted to its former condition, first by striking abnormally, and later by lapsing into total unconsciousness. Mr. Jones, who realized the futility of attempting to mend a decrepit clock, would long since have consigned it to the city dump, had it not been for the protestations of his wife, who insisted that the clock could be made to run, inasmuch as it had behaved perfectly during the first year of their marriage. Therefore, when our hero returned that Friday eve- ning and per ceived that the clock was again asserting its independence, he felt amply justified in abusing the cat. Too long, he told himself, had he submitted meekly to his wife’s command, too long had he played the part of the weak-willed pater familias, the household drudge, the patient, plodding jackass, who, being forced to bear the family burdens during the week, must needs repair clocks on Sunday. (This last meta- phor, though somewhat inconsistent, appealed might- ily to Mr. Jones’ abused feelings.) Suddenly he formed a stern resolution, No longer would he endure this dull monotony under the leader- ship of his wife; he would prove that he was master in his own house. Never again, he vowed, would he repair the clock—nay, more, he would sell the hated thing, and with the proceeds thereof he would pur- chase a set of poker chips. Mr. Jones did not play poker, but he was determined to make the reforma- tion a thorough one. As has been said, Mrs. Jones was not at home, having gone to visit her mother. Mr. Jones hastened to carry out his plan, and early the next morning he shook the clock until it ticked with the semblance of health, and set out for the nearest pawnbroker, where he sold it for eighty cents. Somehow, now that the deed was done, he did not feel the same confidence in his ability to rule his house- hold. He wondered what his wife would say when she learned what had become of the ancient relic; he wondered what his mother-in-law would think of his bold action. To tell the truth, he was a trifle more uneasy over his fatter consideration than over the former, for Clarabelle’s mother had presented the clock to them as a wedding present. Moreover, she was very wealthy, and through her lay the only possible means of obtaining the country home, and the peaceful old age of which he and his wife had dreamed. Decidedly, it would not do to displease his mother-in-law. The longer Mr. Jones thought of this, the more worried he became. However, it was too late now; he would stand by his principles and defend his rights, come weal, come woe. As the next day was Saturday, Mr. Jones left the city at three. When he entered the parlor he involun- tarily glanced at the mantel where the clock had stood, and was startled to find how large a space the clock had covered. How bare and vacant it looked. It seemed to Mr. Jones, as if half the furniture of the room had been removed. As he wandered aimlessly through the house, striv- ing to convince himself that he was right, he discov- ered a letter addressed to him in his wife’s handwriting. It contained sundry admonitions as to the care of the cat, and the canary, and ended as follows: “P. S.: Mother has decided to return with me on the noon train Sunday to spend a few days with us. Be sure to take her jewelry that she left at our house the last time she was there, and put it in the safe deposit (Continued on page 17.)

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EASTERN HIGH SCHOOL ur Eastern in the Great War W. Ernest BARKMAN, '16, sergeant, Artillery: “I don't know whether or not I told you I was billeted in a little French village. We don’t see much of the inhabitants during the week, but on Sunday everybody is out for a good time. In the afternoon all the madamoiselles promenade all dressed up in their best clothes. Last Sunday I missed that, as I was in the midst of my ablutions.” After the Signing of the Armistice Grorce C. Ropcrr, '14, private, Ordnance: “Since coming over I have been stationed at Foecy, not far from Bourges Domgermain, which is about five miles from Foul, Neufchateau, Ligny, Souilly, Nixeville and Souhesmes which is about ten miles south of Verdun. Most of my time has been spent rushing ammunition or doing guard duty around shell dumps, but for the past six weeks or so I’ve been attached to the office of one of the Corps Artillery Inspectors of the First Army.” From the Navy Eart G. Jonscuer, '16, Yeoman School: “Everything seems to be about the same in our training, the routine each day very rarely changing. The bugler still sounds reveille at 5:00 a. m. in the wee hours of the morning, and the familiar call of “Hit the deck, sailor!” always comes to our ears. You know we sleep in hammocks, and when we get out of them, we are bound to hit the floor often quite hard on our bare feet—hence “hit the deck” origi- nated. Sometimes, during the night a lad falls out of his hammock and instead of landing on his feet, falls on his head or side.” Recently Commissioned Among Eastern graduates recently commissioned in officers’ training camps are: J. Rrent Arnorp, '14, second lieutenant Engineers, ORRAG Avbert M. Weser, ’14, second lieutenant Coast Ar- tillery, O. R. C. Epwarp Y. Davinson, Jr., '15, second lieutenant Coast Artillery, O. R. C. Recent Promotions Ernest E. Harmon, ‘10, lieutenant, Air Service. Lesuie Bacay, ex-’16, lieutenant, Air Service. Srantey B. Smita, ’12, lieutenant, U. S. Marines. Marn Sanpor, ’15, ensign, U. S. N. R. Joun M. Sanverson, ’10, captain, Field Artillery. RicwArp O, SANDERSON, ’08, captain, U. S. M. C. Rate E. Ocre, '13, captain, Infantry. F. StTertinc Witson, ’11, lieutenant (junior grade), US.N.R Wuittey McCoy, ’09, lieutenant U.S.N.R. Lieut. James Defandorf, 11, is now acting as judge advocate for the U. S, Hospital District, No. 8. SBS The Christmas Star O Star, thou guiding beacon of an age long past, Thou harbinger of peace to all mankind, Thy piercing rays doth still the storm clouds part And call a soul-bared people back to God. (junior grade), Through many lonesome nights thy steadfast beams Guided three weary travelers o'er the plains; Thy leading presence in those Eastern skies Brought the whole world to greet its King. The morning stars have sung together ages long, And felt the throbbing of earth’s many wars; But on the night thy presence filled the skies The storms were calmed, and Angels sang of Peace untold. “Peace on the earth! Good will to men!” the angels sang; And shepherds on the hillsides heard the song; They, too, rose up to follow thy white gleams And find the manger where the King of Peace was born. O Star, thou golden star of God’s own service flag; The Savior whom thou heralded so long ago, A sorrow stricken, yet rejoicing world now greets By endless battles, wild and fierce and long A world purged clean by pain and sacrifice His righteousness has crowned, this Christmastide- Dororny D. Ronrer, 12a. SB Corrections The beautiful poem, “Thanksgiving,” published in the first issue, was written by Dorothy D. Rohrer, 12A. The story, “A Sign of Descent,” was the contribu- tion of M. Emestine Bryan, 11A. Through a mistake these names were omitted. S35 Miss McNutt and The Four Square girls took a three-mile walk the other day.