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

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THE BASTERNER Ii top of the page. Another title occurred to me, ‘ Sensational Skirmish in Mexico,’’ which I at onee rejected because of its lack of descrip- tiveness. My thoughts then turned to my su- perior officer. What oblivion for him! hai glory for me! It seemed to me then that the authorities could do no less than make me ad- miral—or something. And later I thought how pleased my parents would be. I could picture them greeting me with open arms and shining, tearful eyes. I began to think of some protestations of modesty to make. My ruminations always returned at this point to the newspaper headlines. The hours flew like gulls. The men around me, too, were rapt in pleasant reverie. When we finally realized that dawn had come, we stepped cautiously from our shelter to recon- noiter, and, if possible, to bury some of the bodies of the poor devils we had ruthlessly slain the preceding night. To say that we were amazed at the sight that met our eyes would be putting it too mildly. It seemed that our senses had sud- denly taken flight—for, scattered around where we had hoped to gaze triumphantly upon our annihilated enemy, lay the bodies of twenty dead cows! Not one of us said a word. Indeed, for the next few moments, those poor, harmless, dead cows were not more quiet than we. The silence was at last broken by old Bill Perkins. ‘‘Well, well!’ he sighed. ‘If I wasn’t fooled! And just to think, we can’t even use the carcasses, because if we start a fire, more than cows will attack us, I’ll war- rant!”’ So the headlines did not feature the stir- ring incident, and I’m still chief petty officer; but our orders to shoot everything we saw were carried out toa t. That is all that could be expected of us. It was not our fault that our Mexican bandits turned out to be cows. THE CURSE OF TERPSICHORE I have no feet. Mistake me not, reader— nor imagine that I am totally destitute of that pair of lower extremities. Neither imagine that I am torn asunder from those essential members which enable me to ambu- late. I do have the control of feet for some purposes; therefore, when I say I have no feet, you will understand that I mean—for dancing. My feet (if I may call them such) are prolongations which should more rightly be called yards. I do all in my power to de- erease their extensiveness, but all my efforts are in vain. These offshoots of stout and stubby legs are inclined to grow more and more extensive. They are slowly exciting me to madness, and I am about resolved to shorten them by eutting the toes off. To say that my feet have never felt the touch of a dance floor is erroneous. But, to state the plain truth, my partner is myself. Once my expectations of happiness soared high. with the prospect of a fair dancing partner; but when she beheld my big, clumsy, pedal extremities (very moderate expression), my joyful anticipation came to naught. How I have practiced dancing! The ablest men of the profession have tutored me. I know the latest steps and remember ancient ones. Fate and my circus feet, however, are ever against me. If I could only change my ponderous, rectangular feet to the oppo- site, I would give all. It is hard to stand alone in an age like this—an age of dancing and merriment, youthful frolic and joys. I stand apart and watch while others dance for me. If I, like King Midas, had one wish which could be granted, it would be, ‘‘Give me feet that enable me to dance with eatlike tread and agility.’” Samve. Marruews, 24.

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THE BASTERNER : ORDERS Fern Parner, '24 Some of us were disgruntled; there was no doubt about that. We were offended on two scores. In the first place, a true sailor is always averse to land duty. Besides, we were stationed in the interior of Mexico, knowing little about our location and nothing of the length of our stay. But we were dead certain of one thing: we were in for some skirmishing. Then, too, our ranking officer had put me in charge of a machine gun battery, while he re- turned to a neighboring town for rest in a hotel. That was not likely to put us in the best of humor. We had to sleep on the ground. The blankets, which a few of us had been valorous enough to carry on our long inland march, did very little good, for the raw, uncomfortable dampness chilled us. The only order the fellow had left us was to shoot everything we saw. That sounded like action tome. And we surely saw action that night! What a night! ‘The air, together with everything we touched, was cold and clammy. It was dark—not merely dark, but black with that sort of fog that shows only shadows. A man three or four yards distant looked like a shadow of immense size .We were accustomed to fogs and to the dark, but we tvere un- familiar with the lay of the land. While we were slipping farther into the mire at every step we took, in an effort to find a resting place for the night, we thought with sinking hearts of our familiar ship tossing in the har- bor of a little sea town miles away. Finally, however, we found a rocky shelf on which the rest of the squad could sleep, while I watched. About midnight it grew even darker. I wouldn’t have let darkness frighten me, but you can imagine that dampness and blackness seemed spooky, when I reflected that a gang of Mexican bandits might surprise the little squad, and shoot us off before we could get a chance at them. That was, to say the least, an uncomfortable consideration. I must have gone into a sort of reverie for a few moments. Well, about one o’clock, I was startled by the cracking of a twig. I looked around for a while, but nothing appeared to excite my sus- here loomed a shadow of prodi- distance away from me. My duty was clear. I noiselessly aroused my men. We shot that fellow. Judging by the thud with whieh he fell, his size must have been enormous. Since it was but reasonable to suppose that there would be more bandits, we waited tensely for further developments, scarcely speaking above a whisper. As the moments went on, our vigilance relaxed. It was after two young hot-bloods had argued for some time as to whose shot had killed the bandit, that they were suddenly silenced by the ap- pearance of another form. Slowly it ap- proached, while we waited for it to get close enough for us to take sure aim through the fog. Instantaneously it seemed that our one enemy was followed by a host. The five of us estimated afterwards that there must have been at least three hundred huge shadows. Resolving to fight valiantly to the bitter end, my brave squad opened fire on the enemy. To our utter amazement, they did not return fire, but ran away, stumbling through a small stream a few hundred yards distant. We fol- lowed them down to the stream, still firing and eausing heavy losses on the enemy’s side, We had to stop at the stream, for it was too treacherous for unfamiliar feet to ford. Soon, satisfied that they had had enough of us for one night, I placed some one else on guard and went to rest, but not to sleep. I was immensely proud of our victory. I began to conjecture what the newspapers would say. I even imagined what the head- lines would be—for in my least sanguine mo- ments I could not imagine a report in which the headlines were not spread over the top of the front page. The headlines which most ap- pealed to me were: ‘‘Officer and Four Men Rout Mexican Army,’’ and another, ‘‘Five Hundred Mexicans Flee Without a Shot Be- fore Onslaught of Five Americans.’’ Both were to be followed by smaller headlines with my name. In looking back, I now marvel at my modesty in not putting my name at the picions, until t gious size a short

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THE EBASTERNER 12 Lo, here hath been dawning another New Year; Of the Old, our accounts must be lucid and clear. At the initial meeting of the Home and School Association in November, five-minute talks on various school activities were given by the following students: Margaret Beas- ley, girls’ clubs; William Clementson, dramaties; Ralph Swingle, the bank; Wil- liam Roberts, school publications; Clinton Hisle, cadets; Paul Doerr, athletics; and Otto Lehnert, the glee club and the orches- tra. The first of a series of long assemblies was held on November 13. A sketch, ‘‘The Inter- view,’’ was presented, in which Paul Doerr, Gladstone Roudabush, Norbert Walters, and Sanford Leach took part. Mr. Edwin N, C. Barnes, director of music in the public schools, led in a musical assem- bly on November 20. The week of November 18 was nationally observed as Education Week, and Friday of that week as physical education day. In recognition of this fact, an assembly was held, at which members of Miss Stockett’s and Miss Alexander’s classes gave an inter- esting exhibition of physical training exer- cises. On November 27 the student body received an unusual treat. Mr. Charles H. Swem, champion stenographer of the United States, gave a demonstration of what can be accom- plished m this field. Mr. Swem was for- merly the private secretary to President Wilson. Bis ‘At the last assembly before Thanksgiving the members of the football team were pre- sented with the school letter. Mr. Warner, formerly of our faculty, now principal of the Hine Junior High School, was present and was accorded a hearty welcome. At this assembly Miss Bucknam read President Coolidge’s Thanksgiving proclamation. A six-reel motion picture of the life of Julius Caesar was shown at an afternoon assembly early in December. For the first time in the history of our school there are enough students to have a February graduation. There are twenty- three members of the class. It has been decided that a standard class ring will be adopted. A committee represent- ing the alumni and the senior and junior classes was chosen to select a suitable ring. The members of this committee are Miss Mary Murray, Josephine Speake, Dorothy Linder, Paul Doerr, and Nathan Clark. At the assembly on December 13 Miss Murray spoke on the work of the Harding Memorial Association. Donald Bingham announced the formation of a debating so-° ciety, and Dorothy Tripp spoke of the work of the bank. A very interesting talk about Chinese manners, customs, and government was given by Miss Edith Hart, the superin- (Continued on Page 27)