Farmington High School - Laurel Yearbook (Farmington, ME)

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24 THE LAUREL The stranger, on getting within speaking distance, inquired, Are you Samuel Brown, the owner of this place? They call me Iudge, was the curt reply, for the Iudge was not yet entirely restored to good humor. I'm a government agent trying to esti- mate the crops this year. You've got a great farm heref' he stated. The Iudge had climbed down from the wagon and walked around to Bill's head by this time. I'm glad to see you use horses and don't depend on gasoline for your power, con- tinued the visitor and added approvingly, You,re certainly doing your share to win the warf' The Iudge spoke up then. That's just the trouble, he said. Don't seem to me I am doing much out of the ordinary. Lots of times lately I have figured maybe I ought to leave the farm and work in one of these fac- tories as everyone else is doing. The stranger thought a moment looking around over the carefully handled farm- lands as he did so. Did you ever hear, he began, the statement by Secretary of Agri- culture Wickard, 'Food will win the war and write the peace'? The Iudge nodded. Yes, well- said the agent, climbing into his car, you're doing your part and if more people did the same, we would be bet- ter off, so keep on with the good work. And say--maybe you'd like to go around with me next week. You know this section better than I dof' He drove out of the yard and the Iudge went about his chores. That night, after devouring Betsy's baked potatoes and early peas with a little more relish than usual, he started through the shed into the barn to do the night chores, whistling as he went. From the shed door, the Iudge looked over his domain proudly for the Hrst time that year. As he turned to go to the barn he stumbled over an old red paint cang this gave him an idea. Now how did that go-H he muttered, fumbling around in a pile of odd paint' brushes to find one that would scrape the little remaining paint out of the old can. Food will- Food will win-oh, yes, that's it. By this time he had found a suitable brush and a piece of old board off the kin- dling pile. This last he squared up with an axe and headed once more forthe barn. When he reached the barn doors, he stopped, laid down his equipment, and started to work. M-O+T-T-O, he wrote first in the center of the board at the top. Then work- ing laboriously with his scanty paint and old brush he began, in large capitals- F-O-O-D I'-then, in smaller size, w-i-l-l w-i-n t-h-e w-a-r, a-n-d w-r-i-t-e t-h-e - Cand Hnally in capitalsj P-E-A-C-E peace. After finishing the last he sat back and observed his handiwork. Picking up the hammer and nails ne had secured from his tool box, he stood a ladder against the barn door. Over the top in the center of the barn he placed his board, then, after fastening it solidly, he climbed back down and surveyed his work. For several minutes he stood there reading it over to himself. Food will win the war and write the peace. By golly, I am doing my part, he exclaimed, and pick- ing up his milk pails he trotted off to the tieup whistling. Lois Cohoon '42. YTD' PETER SWENSON-Fireman ETER SWENSON walked slowly down the narrow cobblestone street by the waterfront. As he ambled along with his hands thrust in the pockets of his heavy jacket, his mind was occupied with a vital question. And, in connection with that question, he could not keep the events of the previous month from rushing back into his Peter felt that he would never thoughts. forget the experience he had been through then. It had happened while the oil tanker Northern ,' was steadily making her way through the rough Atlantic a few days from port. Peter was a fireman on the North- ern, and like the rest of the crew, had been

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THE LAUREL 23 personnel, rigid requirements in education, conduct, intelligence, ability to concentrate, alertness, zeal, and loyalty, plus careful schooling in which we do our utmost to make every man to a degree self-sufficient. End quote. In conclusion if I were to set down a list of those old-fashioned virtues that still hold good, it would read something like this: honesty - industry - resourcefulness - courage - good manners - adaptability - dependability and hard, hard work. Ieanette Gould '42, YT' BEHIND THE. LINES T has been said that it takes fifteen people behind the lines to keep one soldier in the lines. These fifteen people do a great many varied jobs. They make the ships, tanks, and planes, they build the machines and produce the raw materials to make them, they transport them over wide lands and broad oceans. One of the most humble yet most necessary war occupations is that of the farmer. He must feed the soldiers in the front lines and feed the workers behind the lines. Mine is the story of such a farmer. Iudge Brown picked up the reins with a Get along there, Bill 5 whereupon the disgusted horse ambled down the road at a slow trot, but Bill wasn't the only disgusted one that day, for the Iudge, whose real name was Samuel Ieremiah Brown, was com- pletely disgusted-completely and thor- oughly disgusted. When the Iudge, usually of good temper and naturally jolly, got roiled up he really went on a rampage. Now, as he slapped the stubborn horse with the lines to get him out of the slow walk he had quickly fallen into after the first burst of speed, the Iudge kept muttering, Ninety dollars a week! Ninety dollars a week! Well, what do I care! Samuel Brown, more often called The Iudge by his neighbors, not because of any relationship to the court bench, but because of his knowledge of everything in general, was the owner and sole operator of a two hundred acre farm, that is, he was-but at the present time he was also the foreman, hired hand, and chore boy. His son, Samuel Brown, Ir., had joined the air corps the year before just after finishing high school. The Iudge took that as it had to be. He wanted young Sam to be a success and aeronautics did seem to be one of the most promising fields. Of course, the Iudge had hoped that by now his son and heir would be running a corn-planter insteadx of an airplane. But he was proud of his son's part in the war effort. The war effort. That was what got the Iudge. He didn't seem to be helping in the least himselfg and he wasn't fifty yet, cer- tainly not old enough to be put away on the shelf. The boy had left in the spring, the hired man had left in the fall. Iake, that was the hired man, had considered it his duty to go to work in the ship yards, and now he was getting ninety dollars a week- more than the Iudge could pay him a month. Sometimes the Iudge had begun to wonder if it was all patriotism. As he pulled into the maple lined drive- way that led to his farm buildings, the Iudge scanned the road behind him and remarked to Bill, There hadn't ought to be so many cars on the road if the farmers can't get enough gasoline for their tractorsf' Bill flicked an ear. The tractors are necessary on some farms. Even this last remark didn't bother the staid Bill anyg he knew his master was too proud of good horse flesh to worry about tractors and the Iudge's next remark was his usual explanation, Well, the gasoline that will run the neighbor's tractors would run an army tank. What tha- This last was caused by Bill's abrupt halt at the corner of the house. The Iudge soon saw the reason for the in- terruption in the progress to the stable door, for parked in the middle of the driveway in front of him was as new a car as there is the Iudge thought, wondering whom they had for company now. A quick glance around showed him an official look- ing stranger walking down his cow lane.

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THE LAUREL 25 eagerly looking forward to reaching America again. It was hot down there in the engine- room, and the men, stripped down to the waist, glistened with sweat. But the work seemed much easier and the men were con- tented, for they were glad to be near home again. An instant later, however, their thoughts were abruptly interrupted by an unexpected tragedy. For at that moment the seaman on watch shouted a dreaded warning. He had caught sight of a long narrow shape skulking be- neath the surface a little distance from the tanker--a submarine! Hardly had the sound of his voice died out when an ominous white line began streaking toward the ship. When the torpedo struck, the explosion shook the men from their positions and left open a gaping hole near the rriiddle of the tanker. As Peter scrambled up the ladder, he heard the officers shouting orders and the hurried footsteps of the men as they rushed to obey them. The sight of the deck astonished Peter, for everywhere was twisted debris, and the whole ship was slanting at an un- natural angle. Above the general confusion he heard the bewildered cries of those hurt in the explosion and the rattle and splash of the lifeboats being put over the side. Peter took his place in the last lifeboat to pull away from the tanker, which was set- tling fast. As he looked back, he saw the bow rise high in the air-hesitate, and then dis- appear from sight. ln the meantime a new peril arose to threaten the survivors-the oil which had spread over the sea had caught Fire and now swept in all directions in angry, crackling flames whipped up by a rising wind. Peter could not see the other lifeboat, but when he heard the desperate shouts of the men, he knew that they had been unable to escape from the fire. The next morning as light spread over the restless, tossing water, Peter and his few companions were picked up by a destroyer on patrol duty. But that had all happened a month ago, and now, as Peter walked along by the water- front, he tried to erase those memories from his mind, for he had an important question that he must decide on at once. As he walked along, a bold sea breeze slapped his clothes about him. Down by the dock, a ship was making ready to put out to sea. There was a small commotion on the deck, and Peter saw that the Ameri- can flag was being run up the mast. In- stinctively Peter paused. It was a symbol that stood for the ideals of the American people- freedom and justice for all.', It was an emblem of loyalty, courage and de- termination . . determination . . . Then and there Peter found the answer to his question. With a lift of his shoulders, he turned into a nearby building. A few minutes later he stood in front of a desk looking down at a paper before him with a satisfied feeling. He knew he had decided his question the right way. On the paper were the names of men who had signed up as seamen on an out-going tanker, and at the bottom of the list, scrawled in generous letters, was the name- Peter Swenson, fireman. VALEDICTORY Members of the faculty: The graduating class of 1942 appreciate the guidance and help you have given us throughout our high school years. From the time we took our places in the Main Room as bewildered freshmen until now, you have been more than teachers to us. We feel that you are true friends. Your kindness and interest will always be a source of in- spiration to us. I join my classmates in ex- pressing sincere regrets at changing our pleasant association. Classmates: We have been looking forward to our graduation for four seemingly long years, but now that it has actually come, we realize how quickly the time has passed. From here on we shall no longer be a group. As we separate, each to his own way, let us bear in mind the most important lessons we have