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Page 37 text:
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D , S ld' D 'times since the mail came,
HI- OCS A O 1Cf I' C3111 . eyening, that he ,didn't have. to'
the writing to know exactly W'hat'iiliQiffi1.29 ,.
. . . - ,-'-'.-.
said. He knew it d1dn't say all .off -A-1535.25
, By Shirley Siegel evening after supper. Yes, Dad was the things She wanted it to SaYS'hQ5'?'-diff:
- getting old nowg his hair was turning knew hvw . to 1-'Gad things' iUl?0 it!
THE moon seemed to stand still. Its gray and the twinkle in his me,-ry though, and he knew that shemeant I 'f1'Q7i,e
soft light spread over the inces- blue eyes was growing dim, but he them to be them' They had 'always ' N -'NFL
sant Pacific. the pale beach, and up
across the full brown tents. In the
soft, unreal night. the pyramidals
looked like aboundant shocks of corn.
Rv the wire near the beach, a rangy
soldier lay on his back. his banjo
on his stomach awkwardly strumininor
on the strings. He pecked out sin'I'e
notes and sent them whining into the
night. He could hear the men in
the tents checking and recheckiwr
their efiuinment. He wanted to write
a letter home. but knew he couldn't
nut the things he felt on paper. There
was no wav of describing the uncer-
taintv' and loneliness. They were
shipping out in the mornineq, and no
on.e knew where they were going or
what they would find there. It was
a winter's moon on a tropical hear-la.
naradoxically warm to them, enticing.
yet its unfamiliar light was disturb-
ing. He was playing "My Old Ken-
tucky Home" and the bitter notes
that came from the banjo were like
a young Negro whose memory holds
tragedies he has inherited but never
known-"For my old Kentucky home
+far away." . '
Andnthere he lay, strumming his
banjo, and dreaming of home. The
little house on'a curving street facing
the hills was a beautiful sight all
year around, but in the winter, when
the fir trees wear white collars and
the shadow of the fence is purple
on the drift, when the birds take
tiny stitches in the snow and our
'footprints hurry toward the house as
dusk draws nigh, there is an enchant-
ing, and unforgettable warmth of
home. The warmth of home, its
fragance, coming from the outside-
from the winter air-the waiting look
the rooms have-the dining room
where the little blue cupboards with
pretty things are in the corners! The
was still the best companion, the
truest friend, the only--Dad. And
then, there was Mom at the station
kissing him good-byg trying hard to
keep from crying, but as he boarded
the train, he could see tears in her
eyes, shining like drops of rain in
the sun. The train pulled out and
from the back platform he saw her
tiny handkerchief dab at her eyes as
she strained forward lest she miss the
last glimpse of the train. And those
goodies! Everyone enjoyed them so.
Gee, Mom surely is a good cook! She
knows just what a fellow likes. She
was always working so hard to please
everybody, but you didn't think about
that 'until you were away from home
and you couldn't ask for your favor-
ite pie and, presto, at supper time
there it is before you. You just
don't appreciate anything until
you've lost it. .
But it isn't gone forever. Some day
he'll be back home in that old corn-
er room with the school pennants
that Mom has kept so neat and ready.
Heid been eating K rations for so long
that he no longer thou-ght of fried
chicken, salads' or cake, except at
the peak of a growing description of
things longed for. He thoughtnof
fried eggs and crisp strips of bacon
sizzling in -. hot grease, the aroma
penetrating the thickest walls to drift
under one's nose and arouse him
from his quietest slumber. He could
remember the way the green linole-
um was worn by the sink, he could
-hear the radio playing and see 'the
evening paper droppedf under the
light at the end of the blue divan.
These are some of the little things
he looks forward to. For it's the little
things-the small familiar pleasures
-that to him, as to all of us, add up
to home. ' i -
understood each other ever since
they had been very young. Then he
was caught in a 'whirlpool of imagi-
nation that sent him spinning back
to dreamland. She was a quiet kid
with a small face and her eyes were
soft, sort of like a kitten's. He
never thought anybody could- ever
feel the' way he did about some
things. And here was another per-
son, even if it was a girl. They had
grown up together-loving and un-
derstanding. Once in a while they'd
go to the movies 'with the gang, but
lots of times, they'd just stay home
and play checkers or go over the old
Latin. They had planned everything
just as it should be' and when he
gets back, there'll be newer, finer
ways of enjoying the land he fought
for. Maybe he will have his post-
war meals in pink and purple pills:
maybe he'll swoosh to work in a rock-
et car-maybe so! But there are ,a
few things that eleven million G. Ig
Joes want to find just as they left
them-just as they've dreamed about
them through all these long months.
Such as the unchanging love of the
girl who waited and the corner room,
and the old fireplace and America.
He knows what America means
now. He had known her rivers be-
fore, her towns and her slow climbing
mountains. He had learned the places
where Ehe could go and Where he
could not go, but after serving her,
he knew there was no place that was
not his, no part of America that was
not his. 'A little courage had earned
him that right, because rights arexnot
granted. No group of men can grant
other men rights of any kindg they
are achieved and acknowledged. He
had achieved .them because he recog-
nized them in himself. There is
nothing at home he' wanted that he
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living room with its huge fireplace An 'alert sounded, and ' he had not had here. There was no iff is
where he had popped corn and roast- scrambled to his feet, clutching his charity of mind, no freedom oft +
ed apples .as a kid. And there, banjo in his hands, but the planes thought,!no denial ofworship, no, 'V ,QE
sprawled out, in front of the fire- were friendly -and seconds later the hungeixunwillingly shared: there wasp, A'A.
place is the deerskin he got on that all clear blew. Kickingaside the co- no one who was abject in the faceof if
last hunting trip with .Dad. ,Good coanuts and dead frondis, leaning duty. These things he knew,he.liad xg
old Dad, he remembers him best, sit- against the gray, broken trunk of a gained, deeply and unendinglygas' ify..j .
,ting before the fireplace smoking his tree, he pulledxa rumpled letter from they had beenirevealed iii the ,blq9,d'-j- 4 j
pipe Sand reading the -paper in the his pocket. He had read it so many of his veins. someday he will
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Page 36 text:
and ..-greeted' ' her ' with,
where'd you like to
It really doesn't matter to me,
Mr. Farrand. It seems you've al-
ready planned almost everything
with Mother," she replied coolly.
' "'Well, go along, dearg have a good
time and I'll not wait up for you,"
put in her mother as the two left.
Several hours later, Helen re-
turned, angry and more bitter than
ever. As she left her escort at the
door, sheicily thanked him for a
,"lovely" evening. She undressed
and, exhausted, threw herself in bed,
immediately going to sleep.
The next morning during break-
fast, her mother asked if she had
had a nice time the night before.
"No, Mother, I didn't. I just can't
enjoy that man's company, and
please, if he calls again, don't tell
him I'll go out with him."
"Yes, dear, only, I wish you
weren't so bitter. He would make
a wonderful son-in-law," was her
mother's' innocent remark.
"Mother, I haven't'even the slight-
est intention of seeing him again,
much less .giving him the chance to
propose!" Helen answered, amazed.
She swallowed her cup of coffee
and left for work, thus implying
that the subject of Mr. Farrand was
During the next few days, Mr.
Farrand's name was not mentioned,
but a certain Mr. Harry Clarke's was,
quite a' few times. He took Helen
out nearly every' night and she
seemed to be wonderfully happy dur-
ing the time. He was a promising
young man, for he had started at the
,bottom as a stock boy at Farrand's
and had worked himself up to the
best shoe salesman' in his depart-
One night, both Helen and Harry
had stayed at the store for a Christ-
mas Eve party and Harry had told
Helen he- would take her home. It
gcould 'easily be seen that young Tom
Farrand had had a little too much
,to drink. He was now swaggering
.toward them wi-th his eyes bleary
bloodshot. I A -
j 7ff"Mishter Clarke, 'could I sheeyou
:ajninutel in' the other room?" .he
asked.. f1g ,V . .K Q
ff'Yes,f Farrandff replied,Harry and
,turning ,to Helen., 'he 'told her to get
-'rvL.'.,s r --
her coat and hat and he would be
with her in a 'few minutes. .
As she stood inside the door wait-
ing, she saw that the city was in
for a "White Christmas." There
were already a few flakes drifting
down and the cold stiffness of the
air showed that the snow wouldn't
be long in coming. She pulled her
coat tighter around her and shivered
a little as the door opened for some-
one, admitting a burst of cold air.
She wondered what was keeping
Harry and decided to go back to
the room where the party was
ting to be very noisy. There
asked if anyone had seen Harry,
was 'told that Harry and Tom
gone into the adjoining room
hadn't returned. She went to
door and heard Harry's voice faint-
ly above the rabble of the party.
He was saying, "You did steal
money from the cash register,
"Yes, but you'l1 never tell any-
one. No, sir, I'll see to that. You
may think I'm dead drunk, but I
can still see straight enough to see
that you won't ever tell Grandfather
or anyone. You won't even live long
enough to propose to Helen. I'm go-
ing to marry her, understand. Pm
going to marry her!"
At this moment Helen pushed the
door open just in time to see Tom
seize a heavy decoration from the
wall and start to bring it down with
murderous force. But as he caught
sight of Helen, he dropped his heavy
implement and stared.
"You're going to marry Whom?"
she asked. ' '
As he turned toward her, Harry
took advantage of his opportunity
and 'knocked him out. He sank to
the floor unconscious and Harry
opened the door, calling to the night
watchman, "Hey, come take care of
this fellow, will you?"
Sobbing and trembling, Helen was
clinging to Harry. "It's all right,
honey," he said, "Let's go home." V
When Helen had regained her self-
composure, she asked' Harry what
had happened in the room.
"Well," Harry replied, 'fhe asked
me, as you know, to come into that
room for a minute. He insisted that-
he was going to -take yourhorneg but
I told him that he had another
"But why didn't he ask me him-
self instead of. gding to you'f'?Q.,'fiii?P31
quired Helen. - - A I g ., Q-I 1' if,
"'He knew' you would never con-
sent to it. I guess maybe' he
thought he would bully me intofletf
ting him do it. His main purpose"
was to propose to you! In fact, he
even showed me a two-thousand,-dob
lar engagement ring he had for
"A two-thousand-dollar engage-
ment ring!" exclaimed Helen. 7 I
"Yes, and that's when I became
suspicious. He wastes so much that
he would never have money to buy
a thing like that. Besides, the store
missed 52,000 from one of the cash
registers last week and no one but
Mr. T. G. Farrand the' First had a
key. Since he was out of town, I
guessed that young Tom must have
taken the key and stolen the money.
When I accused him of it, he knew
he was trapped, and if you hadn't
interfered, he would have killed
me." . X
By the time they reached Helen's
home, a heavy snow was falling and
it was after midnight.
"Helen, do you know what time
it is?" Harry questioned. , -
"No," was the reply, "but it must
be pretty late."
"It's after midnightg it's now
Christmas Day. Merry' Christmas,
darling!" he said as he slipped a tiny
diamond solitaire on her finger.
"Merry Christmas, . Harry!" she
whispered with her heart in her eyes.
fContinued from page 311
"That's Helen, Mickey's wife. She
just came to town and when -we
found that out, I told them to stay
here until we could find a place for
them. That is 'all right isn't it?"
"Of course, George!
"Those spies will be tried in a few
days." - I
,'-'Oh, please, may I go to the trial?"
NGO? Why, Ellen, you're going
to be one of our prize witnesses!" -
So you see, Dear Diary, this'isn,'t
forgotten and I' won't be able-fto.
trust my memory, I'll hayeleitmall
I - '
After everyone else has
down pat in you. - ' ' fi
Heavenly days! Now I liavelto
Helen and. Mickey an,iapartm,entlf.
Page 38 text:
was ag , . . - Q -ef -1
fill ti.-fiqwffftgf ' ':f.-Q1:w.?T-11-is.-ff 1
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them with those who are near and
dear to him. That would be in a
farther future, a quieter time among
familiar things, when grass will
spring from the earth as if it' came
from some boundless source. He will
wait for it, knowing, it will be his, for
as he had known the face of America,
he knows now her heart and her
Suddenly hewas brought back to
reality and he smiled to himself as
the ripples on the beach seemed to
echo-"My Old Kentucky Home-
A HEAVY curtain of smoke arose
as the fog of early morning lay
like a blanket over the bloody battle-
field, where watchful men were try-
ing to penetrate the soupy atmos-
phere about them. No sound was
heard except the distant thunder of
anti-aircraft at the front and the
closer groans and cries of -the woun-
ded. In the trenches and behind the
lines, medical men were moving with
quick efficiency as the stretcher
bearers carried in the slightly wound-
ed cases which could be patched up
under fire. The more seriously
wounded were carried back to the
hospital, if possible, or treated as
best they could be under the present
conditions. As the smoke slowly as-
cended, the firing began and soon
the noise of machine gun and rifle
took the place of the death-like quiet-
Like the bouncing up of a jack-in-
the-box when the lid is raised, a huge
red setter leaped from a distant shell
crater and made his way quickly but
carefully across the field in the 'di-
rection of the front trench. On his
back was strapped, a small leather
case containing a message for the
lieutenant in the trench. The dog,
sensing that his appearance was a
goodtarget for snipers, ran as close
to the ground as possible. At inter-
vals, if the shooting became extreme-
ly difficult to dodge, and if he were
near a foxhole, he would drop into
it until the shooting slackened and
he was able to proceed amid slighter
disturbances. Within a few feet of
the trench the force ofan exploding
hand grenade near-by, knocked him
down andlcovered him with the dirt
that had been torn from the earth
with the explosion. He lay for a min-
ute beneath the debris, not hurt, but
only stunnedg then with a final burst
of strength he ran for the comfort-
ing shelter of the trench, which he
He was exhausted, and as the mes-
sage was removed from its case and
an answer written, he lay on the
hard dirt floor of the trench with
his chin on his paws, and let his
mind wander back to his home.
He had come to the family as a
tiny, silky red pup with long ears
and big paws. They called him
"Casey,," not for the famous Casey
Jones, but because that name seemed
suited to him. He was, you know, an
Irish setter, though at first everyone
doubted it. But as he grew older, he
became slim and graceful and indeed
lived up to his name. His face, long
and well shaped, had a proud, arro-
gant, rather superior look and his
eyes were alert and watchful. His
ears never dropped, even in scolding,
but held themselves erect defiantly.
His hair was silky and thick and of
a rusty reddish color. His tail, long
and forever wagging, resembled the
plume of a fashionable lady's hat.
Casey was loved by-the family and
all who knew him, yet he was feared
and respected by the dogs and cats
of the neighborhood. For it was his
joy to fight with the dogs or 1'un the
cats up a tree. But if he were scratch-
ed or hurt in some way, he allowed
no one to doctor him. He was his
own physician and healer. Above ev-
erything else, Casey loved hunting.
Just the removal of the shot gun or
twenty-two rifle from the closet
would send him into hysterical bark-
ing, and if the words, "How about
it, Casey, let's go hunting . . . ?"
were spoken, his joy was limitless. He
could roam through the woods for
hours, never tiring, treeing squirrels
or chipmunks and chasing rabbits or
even cows, if he could find nothing
betterq Finally arriving home again,
wearily but triumphantly, Casey al-
Hazel Muller, Post Graduate
Build you castles in the air,
Plant your thoughts with flowers fair,
Pave your roads -with sbining truth,
Start your life in dreaming youth.
ways carried' in his mouth one ofthe-
prizes, which he proudly lay before
Then one calm Sunday evening
the peaceful life came to an 'abrupt
end. The United States was at war
with Japan. The men and boys every-
where were joining some branch of
the service. Two from Casey's family
went, one never to return-and then
they decided to let Casey go, too.
The next six months were the most
difficult in Casey's life. He was
taught, not to be loving 'and gentle,
as he had been at home, but to be
suspicious of everyone. He was
taught to run under heavy fire, to
jump over deep ditches and high
walls. For the first time in his life
Casey also learned what it was to be
hungry and thirsty. But he survived
the rigid tests and landed smack in
the middle of trouble, spelled
His train of thoughts were inter-
rupted with the placing of the mes-
sage in its case on his back. Once
more he began his slow progress back
over the field. His former thoughts
of home were far away and he con--
centrated only on getting back to
his shell hole. But halfway over,
lady luck deserted him and a bullet
hit him in the chest. And, amid in-
tense pain, he seemed to gain a
strange new strength and reached the
safety of his original shell crater.
After removing the message, the men
tried to ease his pain, but he would
have no part of that. I-Ie looked at
them solemnly, then with a sort of
apologetic look on his intelligent face,
closed his eyes never to reopen them
again. Of the men standing around,
more than one had a tear in. his eye
and a lump in his throat for their
faithful friend who had given his life
to successfully carry a message.
In a small plot, beneath a tiny
mound near the hospital, lies the
body of the courageous setter, and
over the grave on a wooden .slab
these words appear:
"He's dead. Ohl' Lay 'him gently in
the ground ,
And may his tombgbe by this verse
Here Casey, the pride of all his kind,
is laid 4
Who fauned like man, but ne'er like
man betrayed." .
Betty Burch, ,'45.
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