Elmira District Secondary School - Oracle Yearbook (Elmira, Ontario Canada)

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THE' ORACLE 19 from the sea covered the countryside, however, he gave the signal for more speed. He consulted his map and said to the lieutenant, '6OVer that hill, and then we crush their puny defences, then on to the slaughter of Dunk-'i He was interrupted by a roar from the lieutenant, '4Look, Herr Komman- dantl On the hill, what craziness are the English doing now . . . Cavalrylw Radio-phoning the command to halt, der Kommandant scanned the hills through the mistg he mouthed guttural oaths and demanded, '4The fools! Do they hope to stop us with that? They have white flags with red crosses on them, they are advancing to meet usg and look, they are dressed in armour, what new trick is this?,, He grinned. Give the order to advance and open fire. On came the horsemen and the tanks lurched forward belching fire. Then Von Stein's eyes bulged . . The strange company never wavered but still rode toward them. The- blond bristles on his neck stood up, he gaped in horror at the armoured leader and his men on this ghostly cavalcade. The iron mesh covering their heads framed not faces but ' ,grinning skulls. Skeleton hands shot arrows which clanged harm- lessly against the tank sides. Now they were passing through the tank forma- tion, on they went to the rear of the tanks some thirty yards distant. From the rear port through his field glasses Von Stein could still see the grinning faces and the leader seemed to be mocking him. Rage now replaced fear in this Nazi tank leader, he quite lost his head and ordered the tank xsquadron to turn and destroy this new enemy. Then ensued a strange battle, weaving in and out between the milling tanks the weird horsemen were the cause of confusion and collisions. The ghostly horsemen vanished as quickly as they had appeared. The rest is history-through this timely interruption of the advance of these crack Nazi tank divisions, the attack on a weak defence position of the British was delayed. Just before his retirement , der Kommandant faced the firing squad with glazed eyes and was heard to mutter, uThe dead rise to help Eng- land. The tank crews still speak in awed voices of the strange object they found in one of their tanks-an English arrow of the thirteenth century! -ELEANOR KERRIGAN, X THEIR BIT It was mid-winter. The wind was howling through the top pine branches and the snow was driving in immense waves over the rugged mountain sides and jagged peaks .Yet here in this raging blizzard a lumberman was wan- dering aimlessly about, occasionally raising his numb arms to pull his cap further over his ears and knocking his feet together to maintain the warmth that remained. Yes, Eric Lake, the man who had braved many a northern storm, was now lost in the furries of the gale twenty mil-es from any settlement. He had started off from a distant town with some provisions, but the gale had beaten him. At home Eric's young bride was wait- ing anxiously, and, while she listened to the crackling of the fire or the sonorous tick of the clock on the mantel shelf, she was thinking of her beloved hus- band, who had made possible this cherished home in the small but cheery settlement. Finally she roused herself with a start, as a burning log turned over in the fireplace. She turned on the battery-radio and listened for a short time to a newscast coming from Ottawa. Suddenly an abrupt announcement flashed over this station. It said: 4'An unidentified plane, believed to be Ger- man, has been spotted off the north-west part of Labrador. All look-out towers and civilians report to 'GCBCXW if such a plane is located. The north-west part of Labrador- I Continued on page 672

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18 THE ORACLE his left eye. He received it the time he was hurt in a light with our neighbour's boy. I-Ie has filled out, but remember he was only nineteen when we left. Sud- denly, remembering that her son was an escaped German, she started to weep and said, f'What shall we do? We can't give up our own son. We will keep him here! But Paul shook his head sadly, '6We must give him up. We are in Canada now and we must be faithful to the country we have learned to love? Oh, my son! my son! why did you do such a thing? Why did you join those fiendish Nazis who murder little children?7' The manis eyelids flickered and after gazing around in bewilderment, a dawning light came into his eyes, a crafty smile came over his face. 4'It is you, my mother and father. How for- tunate for me that you found me instead of the others! Now I shall be safe. Arising slowly and clutching his shoul- der he exclaimed, Heil, Hitler! I must be on my way, with your help, of course. Oh, nof' said Paul, you are going anywhere. Even if you are my own son, I shall hand you over to the proper authorities. Swiftly Wilhelm drew out a black automatic, and, sneering, said, No, you won't, my good father. First get me some food and drink. Then you will see that I get out of here safely and into the United States. With a quick motion, Paul lunged forward and the shot which answered his movement went wild. A brief struggle ensued and Wilhelm fiendishly battled with his poor old father. The shot, however, had been heard in the street and an officer came rushing in. What's it all about? he bellowed. Then seeing the Nazi he said, So we've caught you at last. You thought you were pretty smart when you gave us the slip at the station. Now we have you. Wilhelm, still panting from the fight, angrily turned to Paul, You, my own father-to think you would turn over IIOII your own flesh and blood to the foreign- ers. You are a disgrace to the father- landf' . You are no son of mine, after what you have done. Perhaps in an intern- ment camp you will forget the ways of your so-called fatherlandf' The astonished officer then spoke hesi- tatingly, 4'Your son-an escaped Nazi- and you stopped his escape? We've had you all wrong with our stupid sus- picions. Mr. Krueter, you're a true Canadian. We shall not forget this. A few weeks later Paul and his little wife sat before their fireplace once more. Paul musingly said to his wife, 6'It's strange how life works. Only the other week I was bemoaning the fact that the people did not patronize our store. Now business is twice as good and people are twice as friendlyf' '6Yes,'7 answered his wife sadly, abut we had to give up our son. I suppose it's for the best, for he'll learn nothing wrong where he is, and he won't be a danger to his fellow creatures. KNO, and I am awaiting the day when he will come to his senses and all others like him. Only then will the world be a good place in which to live. -MARGARET LUTZ, XII . THE CAVALCADE 0F DEATH ffunior Prize Story j From ,Bergues flowed a steady stream of iron monsters, on whose sides were painted the new cross that was to rule the world-The Nazi Swastika. In the leading tank, der Kommandant Franz von Stein gloated- uFrance is no more, the English swine are on the run and soon we will drive them into the seag next comes the invasion of England. Der Kommandant had just received in- formation that his tank groups were in an excellent position to advance and crush the defenders, who were holding the position to cover the retreat of the men on Dunkirk beach. . It was early morning and the fog

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20 THE ORACLE LAURENTIAN SKI TRACKS K Prize, General Prosej A One doesn't usually like to be rudely awakened at six o'clock in the morning by this salutation, uGet up or youill miss the train. It was, however, neces- sary to rise at six oiclock in. order to catch the ski train at seven- thirty. After thinking this over, I hauled myself out of bed, dressed, and made my appearance at the table. Breakfast over, we put on our ski equipment, slung our skis over our shoulders, and started for the station. Early in the morning positively nothing stirredg that is, unothing except those all-too- venturesome skiers, who go up north and break their bones hurtling down- hill. - This was probably what people were thinking about us and the many other skiers who 'Gwent northv at every oppor- tunity. However, what did we care, as our boots scrunched down the fresh clean snow which had fallen the night before. The station was ammed. Everywhere there were skiers, skis, rucksacks, sun- glasses, in fact all the paraphernalia used by the modern skier. One of our friends specialized in gadgets and it was a joy to see him playing with each and every one. To buy a ticket one had to have ingenuity as well as courageg only the fittest survived this rush and scramblf? Tickets however were secured for the three of us by our combined efforts. Then someone shouted that the train was coming. There was a train coming all rightg as it drew nearer it turned out to be the '4Quebec Express , not our train at all. In a few minutes another came puffing in from the south. New Yorkers scrambled off, bag and baggage, to make connections for uthe North , 'porters were left behind, as the traditional skier must shoulder his own load, and they liked it too, these young Americans. There was another delay until our train was finally sighted. It arrived eventually, full of skiers, peer- ing out the windows, others frantically gesticulating to their friends as they hung out the ends of the cars, they had double seats reserved! What an air of spontaneity there was about it all. MKing Care Freev reigned-colour ran riot, costumes were fearful and wonder- ful, ranging from the Eskimo to the smart Tyrollean ensemble. The ski train consisted of old wooden coaches. Since these were light the en- gine could pull a train of about four- teen cars. On the return trip gas lights were used for illumination. We serpentined around Mount Royal, swinging up North through miles of snow to the hills. We loved the chang- ing scenery: the white spruces, the birches bent by the winter winds, the habitant houses which seemed to have grown out of the soil, all banked and blanketed in snow. The train slowly pulled upgrade following the meander- ings of the Riviere du Nord and soon we were at the station. We struggled into our knapsacks and got out through the door, some skiers making their exit by way of the window. Skis waxed, we were now ready for a cross country trip along trails leading far from the road, through woods and iields, up hill and down dale. Outside the train the air was crisp and cold, and the sun shone on the snow which reliected the light with mil- lions of tiny sparkles. Whips cracked and bells jingled as the sleighs drove away up the hill in this small Lauren- tian village. Cozy in the sunshine, it nestled under its snowy cover. The little houses of hand-hewn, squared logs, whitewashed, with trimmings of yellow- green or the traditional French blue almost bumped each other as they squatted on the edge of the road. For you must know our Habitant is a sociable fellow, given to jolliiication with his uown folk . Over each door was a plaque of St. Christopher, the patron saint of travellers. On the highest knoll in the village stood. the church, religious and social