Farmington High School - Laurel Yearbook (Farmington, ME)

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THE LAUREL 19 As the long white parchment roll was slipped into his hand, Iimmy Dale received the congratulations of the college president and then moved along behind his classmates off the platform and down to his seat. As he took his place among these fellows he had known in and out of college for the past four years, he wondered, rather hopelessly, where he went from here. Ahead of him sat Sandy Mathews, who had a good job as assistant manager of the factory in his home town. Beside him sat Iohnny Green, whose fathei was president of the bank. He then would step into the vice-presidency. On the other side was Tommy Steward, who had wise-cracked his way through college and was stepping into a salesman's job. What do I want to do? thought Iimmy. Through your four years here, intoned the speaker, and behind Iimmy someone moved restlessly trying to get comfortably situated for the long speech which was com- ing. Through my four years, thought Iimmy, remembering. How green he had felt that first day, coming from the quiet little town into this bustling college world. Then he had made the freshman football team and really entered into the college life. The thrill of hearing the crowd yell as he and the other fellows won the pennant in football for their college the next year. His junior and senior years passed Heetingly through his mind with the Debating Club, Iunior Prom, that home run with the bases loaded, and finally the big day. Then it was over and everyone was shaking hands, say- ing Good-bye, and Good luck, See you at the Alumni meeting. and Later as Iimmy walked toward the post office with the last boxes to be sent home, he thought again of what came next. As he approached the building, Iimmy noticed for the first time a new sign in front of the door - Uncle Sam Needs You, read Iimmy to himself. He does, does he? Well it's nice someone does. So What? He moved forward to push the door open then paused. Why not? If there was really a job for him-there were certainly chances enough for advancement-I'll give it a try any- way, muttered Iimmy moving forward ex- citedly. The next four days passed quickly for Iimmy. He filled out an application to join the Air Corps, answering all the questions about height, weight, education and so forth carefully. This he sent to headquarters and then waited. He talked the whole situation over with his parents, who agreed that it was perhaps the best solution to his prob- lem. About a week later there was a letter in the mail for him. It wasn't a long letter, but it gave him full instructions to report in one week to Tulsa, Oklahoma, where he would begin his basic training as a pilot in the United States Air Corps. The first week in Tulsa was strange. There were four hours ground work every day. Iimmy found that his college days were not over. He had classes in naviga- tion, mathematics, signalling, mechanics, and many others. He discovered that there was much more to Hying than climbing into the cockpit of a plane, jiggling a few levers and taking off. He lived in barracks with the other cadets. He had to be ready for inspec- tion at all times, salute any officer that he met and obey all army regulations. His recreation was movies, dances, U. S. O. parties and still sports like tennis and foot- ball. Finally the day came when he was as- signed to an instructor, and flying became a reality. The first time Iimmy went up was a thrill which he never forgot, and he was sure he had not made a mistake in joining the Air Corps. After several practice trips with Iimmy at the controls and his instructor just behind him ready to take over, came the big moment. Iimmy came onto the field where his instructor stood waiting near the plane. When he arrived, the instructor said, You're on your own today, Dale. Iust six words, but Iimmy knew that his success or failure as a pilot was at stake. He was conscious of a feeling of suspense, a little

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18 THE LAUREL in his mind. ':Oh, well, I can cable the story just as soon as we get there safely. What the heck am I complaining aboutl Dismissing these thoughts for the moment, he stood in the door of his worn and battle- scarred tent, gazing out into the thick, dusty heat of the army camp located somewhere in the Philippines. He reached for his sun- helmet and stepping out into the beating sunlight, made his way through the maze of tents and camp equipment towards the invit- ing green of the banyan trees beyond the clearing. A soldier with a huge white bandage en- veloping his head and right eye sat cleaning a rifle underneath the shade of one of the huge trees. As Halligan approached, the soldier flashed him a wide grin and the eye- lid of his good eye dropped comically in a solemn wink. How's the star correspond- ent today? Feeling kinda' nervous? Halli- gan's answering grin was both surprised and delighted. Didn't think any Iap could keep you down long, you old grampusl Squatting on his heels, lack offered the soldier a cigarette from a fast-dwindling package-his last. Their conversation was full of jibes at each other such as befit two very old friends. Suddenly the soldier became serious. All kidding aside, lack, are they planning to leave tonight? ,' Iack's affirmative nod brought fleeting lines of worry to the face of his companion. Sure hope you make it okay! The sun was just dropping behind the mountains when Iack shook hands with his friend and turned back into the clearing. There was a suppressed air of excitement and the atmosphere seemed to be charged with electricity. Halligan stepped into his tent, taking in- ventory of his few belongings that stood packed and ready. As he picked up his typewriter case, a white slip of paper caught his attention. Unfolding it, he read it at a glance, Tonight at 10. At ten o'clock a small party left the camp. Walking purposefully at their head was a tall, spare man whose clean-cut face por- trayed a relentless, almost grim determina- tion. At his side were his pretty, dark- haired wife and four-year-old son. There were several officers too whose erect bearing and keen faces marked them as being of the same Fighting creed as their friend and superior. lack Halligan walked alone in the midst of the few soldiers who had been de- tailed to escort the party to the shore, think- ing of many things, They made their way through the woods past the civilian refugee camp where 7,500 homeless Filipinos lived on their meager fare of rice once a day. Down through the woods to the shoreline where it breaks smoothly from the clusters of cocoanut palms. A trim powerboat awaited them in the dark, inky waters. Calmly, quietly, and efficiently all equipment, baggage, and pas- sengers were stowed away, and with a muffled roar the little craft disappeared into the shadows. The soldiers standing on shore were dark blobs against the white sand, but even their shadows looked a little bit forlorn. As the last echoes of the pulsating motors faded into silence, the figures slowly turned back to camp. No one save these few knew that General Douglas MacArthur had left the Philippines for the far-off shores of Australia. Ioan Greenwood '42, ur-r POWER DIVE EST pilot Iimmy Dale climbed into the cockpit of the new Army plane which had just come from the factory. Pulling his goggles down over his eyes, he signalled to the mechanics and the big ship quivered, came to life, rolled down the runway, and left the ground. Nosing the ship upward to get altitude for a test power dive, the circum- stances which had brought him into this type of work came to Iimmy's mind, and once more he was a senior in college on Com- mencement J'

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20 THE LAUREL fear, and a great deal of excitement. Dimly he heard the instructor tell him to circle the field twice and land. Iimmy climbed into the plane, muttered l'll need it, to his instructor's Good luck, and taxied down the runway. At first the instruments danced before his eyes and nothing seemed to work, then all at once everything became clear, and he felt as if he had always been flying. All of his instructions came back as the plane took off and he had a feeling of exultation as he set it down gently and killed the engine. After a few more practice trips, Iimmy was trans- ferred to Randolph Field, Texas. Here he received sixty hours of solo flying with in- struments. From here he went to Kelly Field, where he finished his course in forma- tion flying, received cross country flying and some work with guns. Here also he won his long coveted wings H and commission as second lieutenant. Because of his skill as a pilot Iimmy was chosen as a test pilot for the army. It was exciting, dangerous work and essential to the safety cf other pilots, but Iimmy wouldn't have changed places with anyone. He had reached the necessary altitude for the dive and pointing the nose of the ship down, he gave her the gunf' The power dive is to test the strength of a plane going at the speed of 600m. p. h. 400, 500, 525, 560, 580, and finally 600! Iimmy slowly and steadily pulled the big ship out of the dive and straightened it out. Coming down to the runway Iimmy was conscious of a feel- ing of entire satisfaction. Once more he knew a man's pride in the perfect work- manship of a huge plane. Once more he had done his bit for his country. Annette Vose '42. var THEY ALSO SERVE - - - HE Armstrongs, five in number, are just a typical American family living in a typical American town. Sam Arm- strong, the father, is a forty-six year old welder in a nearby defense plant. Mrs. Armstrong, forty-three, now that her chil- dren are all grown, spends her leisure time sewing for the Red Cross and attending First Aid classes. Ted, seventeen, is serving with the United States Navy somewhere in the Atlantic. Healthy twenty-two year old Dorothy, R. N., proudly holds the title of second lieutenant in an army camp in the South. Bill, twenty-four and the eldest, is -Bill is a decoder-But you shall hear his story. It all happened several years ago when Bill was still a student. Infantile paralysis, that scourge of youth, struck him down and left its devastating mark- crippled legs. But has that prevented him from doing his bit for his country? Far from it! Bill is a fighting man-Oh, probably no more than any other true American-but you know how we Americans are. When December seventh aroused the patri- otic fervor and indignation of the country, Bill's friends and associates immediately be- gan to join up with some branch of the service. They tried not to cast pitying glances at Bill and promised to write regu- larly. Bill smiled bravely, but then and there he vowed to invest every cent he could possibly get in War Savings bonds and stampsg for to him that seemed to be the only way in which he could help. But as time passed and Bill read more and more about the war, he began to get familiar with various jobs that such troubled times as these create. Among those attracting his attention was that of decoding messages. Now Bill has always remembered that he does not think with his legs. Bill's mind is keen and active .... During his years as a student he had displayed a special aptitude for real learning, his interest centering chiefly on foreign languages-Spanish and French. Thus Bill recognized Opportunity's knock. Immediately he began inquiries concerning the qualifications and duties of a decoder. . . . . The Listening Post on Long Island, where he is now on daily duty, is the result.