Far Rockaway High School - Dolphin Yearbook (Far Rockaway, NY)

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EXPENDABLE BY DAVID I-IoF1-'MAN Ill fff LONE Q 1 Q 5 Six words stood out on the front page of a large metropolitan newspaper. 'tUnited States Forces Retire on Luzonf' The sun beat down without mercy on the fox holes and slit trenches. Now and then a Japanese sniper,s bullet would whine over the head of an unwary American. The Japs are gaining on us. Prepare to retire to rear positionslv The order was passed from mouth to mouth, from slit trench to slit trench, from fox hole to fox hole. It was an order which was very often heard, perhaps too often. Break for the road! At the command, figures of crouching men darted up. The earth around them was being hurled high into the air. They made for a road that was impassable on both sides. When the last man had reached the road, an officer addressed a subordinate. Cover the road with a machine gun. Hold them off for as long as you can. Per- haps it will be a few minutes, or an hour, maybe . . . well, anyway, hold them. Any questions? S8

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,- ' KID STUFF fav '95 TX. BY DAVID SEGAL Q f I'm not excited. I'm perfectly calm and collected. just because my face is purple -well, how do you like mothers who bring five-year old children to concerts, and park them next to you? Ihad expected to spend a quiet, restful evening until I saw faim there. He had a martyred look on his face that spoke of deep inward suffering. Later in the evening that look was transferred to the audience immediately surrounding him. During the first number he was rather calm. He just kept time to the music by banging his heels on the back of his seat. That would not have been so bad if he had kept time accurately. Or even inaccurately! But, no, his diabolical mind conceived of a far more hideous plan. His time was almost, but not quite, accurate. It was just enough off so that you were brought up with a start after every measure. He kept this up so pugnaciously that finally I found myself wondering who was wrong, the Boston Symphony Orchestra or my young neighbor. In the middle of the next number, which was a particularly heavy one, he asked his mother fin a loud, clear voice that reverberated through the hall, and awoke the man sleeping in the last row of the second balconyj Where's the drinking fountain? Half the audience screamed Shhhh, then the other half shhh,d the first half. By this time the boy had climbed through the aisle, gone to the rear of the hall, climbed back to his seat and Whispered, I can't find it. His mother got up, showed him the way, then returned and sat down again. Shortly, but not quietly, the lad returned. Then came the intermission. What a look of rapture spread over his face! Time to go home? he asked hopefully. I took a sadistic pleasure in watching his face fall when he learned that his suffering was only half over. Durin the second half he chan ed his tactics, and contented himself with 'ust I g 1 u g I u I being bored and chanting in a low monotone, Time to go home, time to go home? Soon his unfortunate neighbors were wishing with all their might that it was time to ,, go home. At long last his mother looked at her watch, bundled him up, and yanked him off. Now I could listen in peace. I slumped back and comfortably prepared myself for the joys to come. At that moment Dr. Koussevitsky lowered his baton. The con- cert was over. P S7

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Yes, sir. When do I rejoin my outfit? The officer did not answer. It became apparent to Private First Class Johnny Hil- ton that he was expendable. He was to hold his position for as long as Heaven per- mitted. His was to be the supreme sacrifice. Private Hilton settled behind the trigger of his .30 calibre Browning machine gun. Good luck, fella, his commanding officer sputtered, trying to clear his throat at the same time. Good luckln In a few moments johnny's outfit was gone. He was alone, alone with his machine gun, waiting for the first enemy to appear. He was alone with his machine gun and his thoughts. I never thought it would end this way. Here I am, P. F. C. Johnny Hilton, ex- pendable. It looks as if they won't come for quite a while. Nothing to do but wait. I wonder how Ma and Pa and all the other folks are doing back home. Might as well read their letter again to quiet my nerves. I'm getting jumpy. Let's seeg where did I put that letter? Ah, here it is. Mom wrote this part. I could tell her writing anywhere. She writes that joey is due to graduate from high school. It won't be long now before my kid brother is the best doctor east and west of the Mississippi! I-Ie's got what it takes . . . The birds were singing, yet there was something strangely sinister about the whole scene. Overhead, there wasn't a cloud in the sky. Now and then a multi-colored bird would flash over the treetops, winging its way to its nest. The beauty of nature was everywhere. Private Hilton knew that this scene was soon to be blotted out. His thoughts again wandered . . . There's nothing like a letter from home. Home, that sure sounds sweet. I sure miss the gang at the corner drug store. Barty, Mel, Lenny, Marylin . . . Marylin's brother, my best friend, killed at Pearl Harbor when those yellow devils . . . That was the reason I enlisted. I was so burning mad. At first Mom didn't relish the idea. I guess it was because she lost two brothers in the last war. We talked it over almost every night, and soon she came over to my side. Private I-Iilton,s thoughts were interrupted by a sharp rustling in the under- growth. There, silhouetted on a rise in the road was a surging, bobbing mass of men. Fixed bayonets glinted in the sunlight. Johnny's finger inched toward the trigger of his machine gun. His sights up, he squeezed it. The late afternoon sun cast weird shadows among the palms. The atmosphere was peaceful save for the spasmodic roar of a machine gun. Soon there was complete silence. Six words stood out on the front page of a large metropolitan newspaper. United States Forces Retire on Luzonf' S9