Evanston Township High School - Key Yearbook (Evanston, IL)

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WHAT HAPPENED Jack Hubbard TTt was raining. It was pouring. The rain - - dripped off the brim of his campaign hat as he moodily plodded through the mud and water to headquarters. His new boots were covered with mud, and his uniform was soaking wet. What was the use? Here they ' d been in this training camp for almost a week, and nothing but rain, mud, and more rain. To- night he was on guard, and was on his way now to receive the orders. More mud, more rain, then he stamped up the stairs and into the pleasant glow of the warm orderly room. The men snapped to attention, but he didn ' t notice them. He went right on to the desk of the officer of the day, and made an effort to throw off his downcast mood. He came to attention and saluted. Sir, Lieutenant Anderson Gray reporting as new commander of the guard. He received his orders, saluted and did an about face. Then with a shudder he hunched his wet slicker up higher on his shoulders, and with head down, faced the rain again. Gray looked ahead and in the distance saw the feeble glow of the guard tent, and plodded on toward it. He had nothing to look forward to but a long, dark, miserable, uneventful night on guard, with nothing more exciting than the change of shifts every two hours. Three hours later everything seemed to be running smoothly. He pushed aside the flap of the tent and entered. He pulled off his slicker, and his muddy boots were tossed into the corner. The warm blankets felt good. If he could only stay in them forever — but in several hours he ' d have to go out into the rain and darkness again. Then he faded away into the land of dreams, a soft bed, warm sheets, and a soft pillow. Suddenly the lieutenant sat up. Had he heard a shot? Yes. There were two more the danger signal! The alarm! He glanced at his watch. It was two-thirty. He had slept three hours. He could hear the sergeant turning out the other relief. He pulled on his wet boots, struggled into his slicker, and buckled on his pistol belt as he ran toward the alarm. He saw a flicker, then it grew into a flame. The arsenal was on fire! Fifty thou- sand rounds of ammunition, keg upon keg of powder, thousands of dollars ' worth of Government property. He would be held responsible. If he could only reach it in time to stamp it out before it gained head- way. He noticed that it had stopped rain- ing. No help from that source. He ran faster than he ever had before. If the flames reached the powder and ammunition, it would blow the whole camp off the earth. Hundreds of men would be killed or injured. He hurried on! He was there! He plunged through a smoke filled room into the next. There he saw the flames lick- ing their way along the floor. He stamped, beat at them! The heat was terrific. He couldn ' t stand much more. His numbed brain kept repeating, Beat them out, beat . . . them . . . out . . ., and then darkness. Lieutenant Anderson Gray awoke. Where was he? Why were his arms, head, legs, all bandaged? He looked around. The camp hospital, that ' s where he was! He began to remember — a fire, the arsenal. An orderly entered. Gray asked, What happened? Did it blow up? No, sir. When they found you, your body was smothering the last flickers of fire. You saved the camp, sir. The lieutenant glanced out of the win- dow. It was raining again, but he didn ' t mind now. It seemed that the rain was cheerful now. He had done his duty. Page Twenty-two

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Back Row — Gordon Wildes, Russell Cullison, Webster Goodhue, Herbert Gardner, Russell Pelton, Donald Parsons Front Row — Mr. Runge (Coach), John Fugard, Joseph Shapiro, William McCurdy, Charles Woodruff SENIORS ON THE RIFLE TEAM Off and on during the past four years about fifty seniors have taken advantage of the opportunity to become good shots by trying for the Rifle Team. Both civilians and Corps members have made their bids for places. Of the ten boys who tried out in their freshman year only one, Joseph Shapiro, made the team. Three more fellows qualified in the sophomore year, so that there were four 1930 representatives on the team then: Shapiro, Baughman, Parsons, and Woodruff. In their third year almost the whole team was made up of juniors. These same fel- lows kept up their excellent record during the senior year. Through their skill in shooting and their enthusiasm for the sport the members of the Class of 1930 who have made the Rifle Team have probably made a larger con- tribution than any other one class to the enviable record of the team. At the close of this school year the Rifle Team is to be dis- continued as an independent activity of the School, and is to be absorbed by the Mili- tary Training Corps. It is with much satisfaction that the present senior members of the Rifle Team look back on their excel- lent training and their many victories in national matches for which Mr. Runge, their coach, deserves much credit along with the Rifle Team. Page Twenty-one

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THE GIRLS ' GYM There is no place in all the school more dear to me than the girls ' gym. I have spent the happiest times there. The friends I have made within the precincts, whom I wouldn ' t have known otherwise, are the truest and jolliest friends I have. But the gym itself: I remember the chill of it on a damp or cold day, the towels set under the holes in the leaky roof, the row on row of empty seats on the balcony star- ing endlessly at us, at our formal marching, at our dancing. The new gym is sunny and there are only two leaks in the roof, but it, too, on dark days is cold. Who would ever forget the locker room, noisy with the clang of steel doors, echoing with the shouts of happy girls, silent dur- ing the long hours when the girls have gone? Then there is the doctor ' s office with its white table and medicine cabinet, its files and desk, and its two white beds. In fall you see us, long lines of girls waiting for physical examinations; in spring there are only a few who wait, a bit frightened perhaps, to see the doctor. Mrs. Orr rules supreme in the storeroom. Here are the balls, big and little, hard and soft. Here are nets and ties, bows and ar- rows, raquets, and mats and the poor banged-up piano. What a lot of fun we had there, last year, with some one playing away and the rest of us sitting on what- ever was available, such as the desk, a crate or the piano itself. Last of all there ' s the gym office. From two tiny rooms, one the doctor ' s, which had housed the department for nearly five years, there are now two large, roomy offices, one belonging to Miss Maine and the other ruled by Miss Maxham and Miss Flader, secretary. Miss Cutler ' s domain and desk are down- stairs, in her own private gym. Such is the gym! The fields — one for hockey, one for archery, and one for soccer — are north of the gym. There are tennis courts, blistering hot in summer and just right in fall and spring. There is a baseball diamond off in one corner. Oh! it ' s the grandest place in the world — the girls ' gym! -Gertrude Fox Page Twenty-five