John Burroughs Middle School - Burr Yearbook (Los Angeles, CA)

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MY FRIEND ACROSS THE SEA By CONNIE CRONK I know a boy in the Navy blue Who ' s far across the sea. He may not yet be a hero to you, But he is a hero to me. For I knew him when he went to school, Full of pranks and loads of fun, Joking and clowning with the rest, And now he is firing a battleship ' s gun, For he answered the call When there was the need; From his steadfastness Let us take heed. He ' s doing his job And the going is tough; Are we at home Doing enough? CAMPFIRE MAGIC By VIRGINIA NELSON The bright orange and yellow flames of the fire licked greedly at the logs. Our small group was gay; singing songs, telling stories, roasting marshmallows and popping popcorn. As the fire slowly grew smaller, so did our group, as each fellow slipped silently away into the shadows. I sat staring into the fire, thinking there was such a feeling of the closeness of God, under those giant Sequoias; and the stars were so near that I could almost have reached up and plucked a handful out of the azure sky. As the last embers grew cold, I realized that I was also cold, and reluctantly slipped back to reality. FIELD OF BATTLE — ATHENS By GORDON RINGER Venezalos hated the Nazis with a hatred that consumed every fiber of his being. He had despised the conquerors ever since the first monocled, heel-clicking, saber-rattling German had confronted him and demanded the immediate surrender of his proud little country. His anger rose when he helplessly watched innocent hostages, fifty at a time, being led before the Gestapo guns. For over a year, he and a few of his former companions and fellow officers met in an abandoned cellar and planned for the day when the aggressors would be driven, once and for all, over the boundaries of Greece. Leaflets were distributed, and news of the war disseminated; but that was all. It was all, for the patriots know that if any acts of sabo- tage were committed, hundreds of guiltless Athenians would face a firing squad. Then the first reports of the American in- vasion of North Africa leaked through the German Intelligence. Venezalos and his com- rades decided to wage open guerrilla war- fare. They were aware that the Nazi High Command was feverishly doubling garrisons and sending supplies to the Balkans to avert a possible attack. Nazi officers began to disappear myste- riously, only to be found later, conveniently dead. Trucks, crammed with fresh troops for the Libyan front, were blown up. Bridges disintegrated under ammunition trains; in short, every conceivable method to halt Ger- man defense preparations was used. But even saboteurs meet with disaster. In Greece, as in Norway and other occupied lands, there were a few Quislings who were willing to sell out their countrymen for a few dirty pieces of silver. One night Venezalos confided a secret plot to destroy a warehouse to a personal friend. With the captain not knowing a thing about treachery, the ac- quaintance informed the Gestapo. As group of the Greek partisans huddled behind packing crates, they heard the tramp- ing of feet outside the storage house. Vene- zalos knew what had happened and ordered his companions to leave. He decided to remain and hold off the police until they could reach safety. The first unit of the Gestapo men burst through the door. Venezalos threw a grenade. The second followed; Venezalos had no gre- nade. He held the Germans off with a knife and revolver until some army guards brought a trench mortar. What the Greek knew, the Nazis did not. The room in which he was entrenched was loaded with tons of high explosives. The mortar went off; within ten seconds the area within ten acres was a charred mass of twisted steel and shattered wreckage. A few days later the Greek government in exile published a communique which stated simply yet proudly: Captain John Venezalos was killed in action, November 24, 1942. Field of battle, Athens! PAGE TWENTY-ONE

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SACRIFICE By NORMAN ROBERTS We are doing without many things now. We are doing with less canned goods, less shoes, less of everything. When we do without coffee, we release a ship to bring guns to Johnny Doughboy in Africa. Most of us are willing to help our country and allies in this way. We are glad to sacri- fice for the winning of the war. But is it sacri- fice? Would not trade be a better word? Let us consider the inconvenience of turn- ing off the lights when leaving a room, a trade for the electricity to form a bullet and doing without sugar, a trade for the pawder to speed that bullet to a Jap ' s heart. Is not the destruction of one of our enemy worth this small sacrifice? But this is not the end, for his death brings victory closer, and we may trade victory for our Peace and a Better World. Y foi-v- v . Infill MY FIRST PLAY By TED SACKETT The curtain opens and I ' m so scared I feel as though it was all a bad dream. I go out on the stage and start my lines. My knees act as though they were jelly. I don ' t know what I ' m saying, the words just come out. My head begins to spin and it seems as though I can ' t see very well. I say something and hear Don Carter laugh, and I feel all the worse. As I ' m looking into a mirror, which is part of the play, I can ' t remember what comes next. At the last moment I remember and I feel as though I had done a great thing. Then the thing I have been fearing happens. I forget my lines. My face begins to burn as I feel the horror of ruining the play and making a fool out of myself. It ' s the feeling of falling through space and not being able to do any- thing about it. Then the girl I ' m talking to whispers my lines to me. I think she ' s wrong but take the chance and say them. She was right, and at the end of the play I am very happy because everything went all right. I REGRET By PAT McCASSY It ' s a funny thing as spirit goes; It has many friends and many foes, And deep inside me I can tell, That I have done not half so well As those before me served and gave All they could to help and save The good fine spirit of old J. B., That will always be so dear to me. -■• PAGE TWENTY

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J ft ' . OW M f M ' • •••- . ' ■ . • • ■ Bo 16 i £t R.wou ! , J. B. DOES ITS SHARE Zooming through the air at about 400 m.p.h., diving and twisting, dodging anti-aircraft shells and enemy bullets, is the North Ameri- can P-51 Mustang fighter which was pur- chased by the sale of bonds and stamps here at J.B. The plane, one of the deadliest of its type, is hastening the day of victory. BACK TO TOKYO By CAROLYN ROAN Eagles are flying overhead To avenge America ' s martyred dead; Eagles, with bombs and guns to go Again o ' er the sea to Tokyo. Angry four-motored birds of war Clutching a message in each claw, A message of hate, to be specific, To the murdering men across the Pacific. Revenge, revenge, revenge, they call, Echoing the promises of us all, And ghosts of Doolittle ' s heroes will go Back o ' er the sea to Tokyo. PAGE TWENTY-TWO