Greenville High School - Trojan Yearbook (Greenville, PA)

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SENIOR YEAR BOOK Literary THE ZERO HOUR. I recently met one of the finest living examples of American spirit that I have ever had the pleasure of seeing. Before the war he was a clerk rising to he sure, hut not an extraordinary man in any sense. Over night he became a soldier by means of the draft. He was taken overseas ami with little preliminary training, was put into active service in the trenches. He was so severely wounded that it was necessary to amputate one leg. At the present time he uses an artificial leg and has acquired such skill that most people never notice it. This pleases him for he is a modest lad and does not like to he questioned and it was only after long, hard questioning that I got him to tell me the following story. “You probably know what my life was like tip to the time of my call for service. I was an average clerk in a big office making a good salary and spending it all on a good time. And right there, sir, is one of the benefits of this war. We will have learned to save. When my call came, I was as surprised as anyone. I hadn’t been paying much attention to the papers and it seemed then as though the government had its nerve, asking me to join its army, but I went, I am glad to say. It was not long till I arrived in France. I had now begun to take some interest in the war and was seriously doubting my ability to kill a man. Not only that, but 1 doubted if I would have the nerve to leave my shelter and risk my own life. But the ten minutes in that front line taught me more than the last ten years of my life had done before. “About two o’clock on the morning of August 12, word was passed around that we were to charge across No Man’s Land at five o’clock. Between two o’clock and five, every man revived his whole life, past and present, and his chances for a future. Some were nervous and shaking, afraid to trust themselves to speak; others worked themselves into a rage the better to keep up their courage. Some kept their minds off the coming danger and so presented a stolid countenance and a steady hand which was a great help to us. I was one of the ones who could not control their thoughts ami I actually believe that but for one thought, I should have gone mad; that thought was that behind us were hundreds of thousands of men ready to take our places and that behind us all were millions of our countrymen only asking for an opportunity to help. There was the great comfort that we were not alone. I mentioned it to some of my comrades and it seemed to help them for at 5 a. m., the zero hour, when we went over, not a man hung back. “After that it was easy. The thought of our countrymen backing us up. trusting in us and believing in us, was sufficient to establish a morale which was hard to dispel. I, myself, went over three times and was not afraid.’’ “But how about your wound! I asked him. “My country can have this other leg any time she needs it,’’ he replied. ALBERT JENNINGS. Thirty-one

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SENIOR YEAR BOOK A NIGHT ADVENTURE Two tired, disappointed young men stood gazing down the street car track at a glimmering light that grew fainter and fainter, as the five o’clock ear sped on through the dense timber tract to Portland twenty miles distant. The two companions were Oscar and Vincent McGarthcy, who had been tempted by the fine October weather to take a day’s outing in the timber. They were brothers and both from the east visiting their uncle in Portland. The day had been spent in target practice and exploring the great forest. “Well, isn’t this luck?” said Oscar. “To be in sight of that car and then have to wnlk the whole way home.” “Don’t think of that. I’m dreadfully tired now and the only thing left to do is to stay here all night,” was his brother’s reply as he picked up the lunch basket and started down the bank. Oscar followed rather reluctantly. The dark, frowning forest looked as foreboding to him as the twenty mile tramp to Portland. Soon they came to a place where two or three spruce trees had fallen together; their tops lodging against each other had formed a small pen. “Well isn’t this luck?” said Vincent. “Here is our cabin.” Then he parted the branches and crawled under the shelter. “Why here is the softest bed of spruce boughs. 1 don’t care now that we did miss the car.” “But,” said Oscar, “don’t you remember Uncle telling us about a man who was chased by wolves out in these woods last winter? He built a fire then and was able to keep them away till morning, but we couldn’t do that at this time of the year.” “We have five boxes of shells left and with them I can stop all the wolves in Oregon as fast as they want to come,” said Vincent. So Oscar yielded the point again and said he would take the first turn watching. Hut when he had wrapped himself up snugly in his blanket and propped his back up against a spruce bough, his head soon began to nod, and after a few useless attempts to keep awake he fell sound asleep. However the boys were reminded about midnight that they were not sleeping in a Boston flat. Oscar was awake first and hearing low howling sounds far and near all around him, was not long in rousing Vincent, Even while they tried to decide what to do the branches of the shelter began to shake as one, then another of the animals began to leap on them. “They are timber wolves,” said Vincent, “and the sooner we let them know what we are the better. You go to that end, part the branches, shoot several times, and then climb up on top. I’ll do the same at this end.” When the boys peered out through the branches of their shelter the night seemed to bo full of little balls of lire, but a few shots scattered them, and when the boys met on top of the shelter nothing could be seen of their enemies. They believed they were out of danger, but in less than an hour the hungry, howling animals returned in larger numbers than before and showed less fear. Only by firing rapidly in a circle could the boys scatter the band. About every hour tin wolves returned and at four o’clock in the morning the boys ran out of ammunition. Hut as the first ray of light appeared in the eastern sky, the wolves disappeared, and never before had Oscar and Vincent been so glad to see morning come. As the two companions boarded the first car to Portland and settled down in a seat to enjoy the ride, Vincent said, “Well, I guess we can tell a real Western story now, too.” And Oscar agreed that they could. FRED McGAREY Thiitjr-two