Kennedy Collegiate Institute - Kencoll Yearbook (Windsor, Ontario Canada)

Page 24 text:

Page 22 THIS KEN COLL, 195 4 Short Stories . . . THE GREEN-EYED RUSSIAN The Russian pilot sweated nervously as the French fighters trapped him in their formation. Indistinct crackling in his ears acompanied the challenge of Gutershafen air base, yet two hundred miles away. The pilot’s brows creased in anxiety, his eyes, kindled by trepidation to a watery gleam, emphasized his dark, emaciated features. The beads of sweat stood out on a red, rubbery neck. He licked cracked lips. “Don’t shoot! . . . I . . . escape . . . help me!” Forty minutes later the sleek Russian jet hum¬ med to a stop on the new United Nations air-base in Western Germany. The pilot’s reception com¬ mittee was imposing. Twenty-four machine-guns, two radar-controlled anti-aircraft batteries, and the base’s fire brigade lined the runway showing clearly Western skepticism bred during the Communist regime, of anything Russian. The first move was made by the intruder. Un¬ folding his massive frame from the cramped cock¬ pit, he waved frantically ' friendly greetings to the sidelines. An advance guard of four military policemen surrounded the airman and marched him with care to their superiors stationed at the edge of the field. After excited dialogue and translation, during which time he was diligently searched, the party moved i nto the Gutershafen personnel headquarters. The next morning Western newspapers and radio-broadcasts carried reports of the Russian pilot who had escaped the “Iron Curtain” and was now receiving political asylum” somewhere in Western Germany. “He had brought with him to the West, the newest type Russian fighter which Western defence officials were now studying . . .” In the Gutershafen personnel room, the huge, green-eyed ex-air officer sat in an arm-chair, eyeing everything and everyone suspiciously. Now that he had told his story once, he became stubbornly taciturn. Serge Tchaizousky—that much they knew. He had decided to escape because of hunger and the unjust cruelty which he saw around him. He realized that in the Communist regime he was but an automaton and that as an automaton, he must execute his orders with mechanical correctness or be discarded as a worn cog in the machine of totali¬ tarian efficiency. “Radio Free Europe” had por¬ trayed to him a life where individuals have indivi¬ dual rights, among them security and the freedoms of speech and of worship, from fear and from want. Still skeptical, he risked the dangers of the life he had known, and dared the ever-fearful Unknown, to seek freedom. Still suspicious, he sat amid the noise and con¬ fusion of his new situation. He decided to com¬ promise. In broken English he pointed out that he would speak only to one man and designated Colonel Alberts of France. The rest left grumbling, unwillingly. The colonel locked the door. Three hours later, Colonel Rene Alberts opened the door and handed his written statement to secretary Nolan. “I suggest,” said the former, “that we fly Tchaizousky into Luxembourg to-night.” There was, as he had expected, immediate dis¬ sension. But he stood firm, and his continued good sense made its mark on the faces of his disappoint¬ ed, covetous comrades. They all agreed that the Russian should be sent to neutral territory as soon as possible, and finally concurred with the French¬ man’s suggestion. At eleven o’clock that night, Serge Tchaizousky boarded an American transport. Only he and the officers at Gutershafen knew his destination. The plane bounced feelingly along the Luxem¬ bourg landing-strip approximately three hours later. Where it taxied to a coughing halt, the transport was subtly outlined against the milky haze of the distant city. An opaquely black sky envelop¬ ed three figures and precipitated welcome secrecy to their operations. They walked quickly, silently, the long walk to the passenger retaining gate where the glow of a cigarette preceded the appearance of a fourth figure. Like a chain reaction, the trio decomposed discharging the middle figure which quickly united with the fourth to leave the scene. Following the latter pair, one would have noticed their singular path to avoid observations. Em¬ ploying cut-backs, sudden halts and short runs, the pair finally terminated their erratic course inside a great limousine. The machine left the airport, and soon the city limits, at a moderate rate of speed. It was not until the limits had been reached, moreover, that words passed between the two occu¬ pants. “It will be another two hours drive, sir. Mon¬ sieur Poireau advises you to try to sleep.” Serge grunted. Soon his small head slumped on his huge chest and he began to snore in the gurgl¬ ing. gutteral language common to all people. He awoke with an instinctive nervous start before a small farm-house, framed in the first rays of the Eastern sun. Serge steadied himself and guided himself through the open door. “Greetings, Tchaizousky,” breathed the small fat man with outstretched hand. “Quickly, this way.” The Russian straightened, his eyes flashed com¬ prehension and his whole attitude bespoke a co¬ operation that Gutershafen had never known. He seemed earger to begin his duties in the service of the United Nations Security Intelligence. The pair marched through several rooms, all typical of the rustic Luxembourg farm-house. The library, however, offered an imposing contrast. The room was clearly intended for safety and privacy. The house had been so constructed that this room was enclosed by three other rooms and an inner hall-way. To the interested observer,

Page 23 text:

THE KEN CO EL, 1954 WHAT DO YOU EXPECT TO CET OUT OF LIFE? You will gel out of life in direct proportion to what you pul into it. WHAT RETURN CAN YOU EXPECT FROM BUSINESS TRAINING? Your income will he in direct proportion to the quality and quantity of business training that you receive and master. DON’T BE MISLED! THERE IS NO SHORT-CUT TO SUCCESS! You must he able to give the most to receive the most. THOROUGH BUSINESS TRAINING IS THE SURE ROAD TO SUCCESS IN BUSINESS ! TRAIN IN THE SCHOOL THAT CAN AND WILL GIVE YOU THAT THOROUGH TRAINING WINDS ’kM ' iedd R. J. SERVICE, Principal and Owner PHONE CL 3-4921 2nd 3rd Floors BANK OF MONTREAL BUILDING 15 Chatham Street East WINDSOR, ONT.

Page 25 text:

THE KEN COLL 1954 Page 25 these security precautions emphasized Monsieur Poireau’s importance. But Serge took no notice of minor details. His eyes were trained in self-satisfaction on the little fat man now ritually involved in bolting his library door. The greasy one turned, showed an excellent set of false teeth in an evident attempt at a grin, and wheezed: “Again, greetings, Comrade Tchaizousky.” “Congratulations on a hard assignment, well executed. It seems you had no difficulty?” “The credit is all Alberts,” said Serge modestly. “But for him I should be now in some other stupid hole.” The fat man waddled to the cocktail cabinet and produced a bottle and two glasses. “Then let us drink to your success . . . and Monsieur Alberts!” The two members of the United Nations Security Intelligence raised the crystal to their lips. “. . . And to the success of the Party,” added the green-eyed Russian. —ROD MacGREGOR, 13A FIRST PRIZE THE LAST RESORT The good-natured doctor bustled into the sick room and, immediately, crossed to the sick bed. He frowned as he took a quick glance at his small patient, but turned and gave a reassuring smile to the worried mother. As is the usual custom, the first thing he did was to take the patient’s pulse and temperature. The physician noted with alarm that the child had an exceedingly high fever. With a little coaxing, the reluctant child finally swallowed two white pills which the doctor produced. Confident that the tiny white capsules would solve the problem, the doctor left, promising to return in a few hours. However, when he retuned, not much later, he found his patient still raging with fever. At first, he was undecided as to what to prescribe now. After a few moments of thought, he took from his bag a small bottle filled with a clear liquid. The child, who was now too miserable to care, took the medicine without resistance; but this too had no effect on the patient’s condition. The doctor’s face became a study of pensive thought. He came to the conclusion that the only thing left to do was to operate, and he informed the worried parent of his decision. “Well then,” replied the little mother picking up her doll by its arm, “I s’pose we better go and oper¬ ate on the kitchen table, cuz there is more room there.” “Yeah, I guess that’d be best,” agreed the grimy, freckle-faced physician, as he popped a peppermint pill into his mouth and shoved the bottle of water into the pocket of his jeans. —JEAN LONG, 13A THIRD PRIZE HUMOUR Grade Niner: Which is the most important, the sun or the moon? Wiser Grade 13: The moon, because it shines at night when we need the light. Mr. Fox: What is the formula for water? Bill Sawchuck: HIJKLMNO. Mr. Fox: Where did you learn that? Bill: You told me yesterday it was H .O. Teacher: “Give me a sentence with an object.” Student: “My teacher is very beautiful.” Teacher: “What’s your object?” Student “Higher marks.” Mr. Deagle: “Explain the law of Universal Gravitation.” Gary Douglas: “Certainly sir, what part don’t you understand?” Guard: “Halt! Who goes there?” First Former: “Aw, you wouldn’t know me, I just got here yesterday.” Mr. Bishop: “You opened your mouth and words of wisdom came out.” John McKay: “Yea, how come, Ron?” Ron Maniacco: “My old man hit me with a logarithm last night and told me to study.” Mr. Mahon: “Have you ever noticed how fast the students leave school on Friday at 3:45 p.m.?” Mr. Donahue: “They have to, or they will get trampled to death by the teachers.” Bob Krause: “Does you girl friend know much about cars?” John Kerr: “Heck no! She asked me if I cooled the engine by stripping the gears.” Angry Father: “Say, it’s three o’clock. Do you think you can stay here all night?” Daughter’s Beau: “I’ll have to telephone home first.” Mr. Knapp in gay Paris: Garcon, je desire consome royal et imprece of pang et-” Waiter: “I’m sorry sir. I don’t speak French.” Mr. Knapp: “Well, for heaven’s sake, send someone who does.” Mrs. May: “Bob Farrow, what is your definition of a motorist?” Bob: “A motorist is a person who after seeing an accident drives carefully for several blocks.” Miss Paterson: What was the Age of Pericles?” Fourth Former: “I’m not sure, but I think he was forty.”