Lowe High School - Towers Yearbook (Windsor, Ontario Canada)

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22 The Windsor-Walkerville Technical School Year Book ated the scene. In the flash of white light, the house was revealed as empty and half in ruins, but at least it would afford a night ' s shelter from the terrible storm outside, after my long, weary tramp across country. In the deluge of rain that followed, I ran for shelter. Kicking open the heavy door, that swung on rusty hinges, 1 found mvself in a huge hall. Evidently it was an ancient house, for all the walls were covered with black panels. 1 made an exploration of the rooms and found the house, or whatever else it was, to consist of three stories, and on each story were a large number of rooms, both large and small. About forty rickety, un¬ comfortable looking chairs, with funny little cavities attached, and one big table, with several drawers down the front was the furniture in most of the rooms. Some rooms appeared to contain chemical apparatus, but oh! how primitive it was! Still other rooms contained huge, bulky ma¬ chines that could not possibly be convenient to work with. On one room the floor was marvelously polished, and a balcony ran all around. At each end and side, there was a funny basket-shaped ap¬ paratus, and dangling from leather straps from the roof, were big iron rings. Whatever were they for. I wondered. Above the entrance to this room, I made out what appeared to he hieroglyphics of some ancient speech, and these were the letters ‘G-mna-ium.” What it meant 1 did not know, and being no scholar, 1 did not try to decipher it. 1 came upon a huge room with several wooden tables and chairs and what seemed a long wooden barrier. Be¬ hind this on long shelves, were the remains of some old crockery. Above the doors of this room I made out the words Caf—er—a. The rest of the third floor was fast crumbling into ruins, so I made haste back to the first floor. There l found a row of rooms on the left side of the main entrance for there were many entrances, and in there 1 found as comfortable a chair as the place offered and was soon fast asleep. When I awoke the storm was over and the sun was streaming in at the dusty, cracked windows. In the early morning sun the large building with its dusty dilapidated interior looked more lonely still. As I walked away, 1 turned to look hack, and fixed a picture of the place in my mind. It was like some ancient castle, grand and awful, with four towers, fast crumbling. All around for miles, were old, ruined houses, much smaller than the place where 1 had slept. Above the huge, heavy doors were written the words, “Win—or- Yalk—ille Te—ni—al Sc ol, 1922. but as some of the letters were obliterated it meant nothing at all to me. So I passed on. leaving the ancient structure.behind, pondering over what people must have in¬ habited that strange structure years ago. 1 visited the teacher in the next city and he with the “stori- optican“ showed me scenes of 2000 years ago. Before my eyes material¬ ized a lovely building. Reading the inscription. I learned that it was one of the greatest schools of two thou¬ sand years ago, and what I had thought were panels on the walls were blackboards, and the rickety chairs were desks. Turning off the machine, I ruminated, thanking my lucky stars that I had not lived in that crude age, when the process of learning had been so cumbrous. VICTOR LARKE. -o- LIFE IN FLANDERS DURING THE GREAT WAR “In Flanders Field where poppies grow!” Perhaps these few words mean nothing to you today, but less than ten years ago. Flanders was the scene of a great world strife such as had never before been witnessed. Of course when war was declared, it meant nothing to us children, and in a short time we had forgotten all

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The Windsor-Walkerville Technical School Year Book 21 perfect machine. Tin starting on the new one right away.” What to say to such a lunatic? 1 left. -o- WICKED WILLIE A Bed Time Story Once upon a time there was a bad, bold, desparate. red-headed pirate, named Wicked Willie. Now Wicked Willie always sailed the wild and stormy waters of the De¬ troit river. He was always hungry, so of course excursion boats were his prey, and everyone knows the Detroit river is the best place for ex¬ cursion boats. Well, one day when he was look¬ ing out on the sandy desert of Wind¬ sor, he spied the 44 Pontiac” heading for Belle Isle. Now as everyone knows when a boat is headed for Belle Isle it contains lunch boxes and lunch boxes usually contain food. With a great roar. Wicked Willie bounded up the steps seven at a time (there were only seven) and roared: “Ahoy there, men! Hoist the skull and crossbones, and just then a terrible thing happened. He heard his big, fat Swedish cook say: “Dot Vicked Yillic sure is vim bat man.” With a cry of rage. Wicked Willie picked him up and hurled him through the port-hole. Now, the port-hole was small, the cook was fat, so naturally he stuck. Wicked Willie sat and tried to think of a torture terrible enough and at last he had a plan. “Come here men and each take a straw and tickle his feet. The cook screamed for mercy but the only arfswer was Wicked Willie ' s mocking laugh. About fifteen minutes later they came up to the Pontiac. The frigh¬ tened passengers gazed over to the sandy desert of Windsor. No hope there. Then at the village of De¬ troit. All in vain! With great cries of terror and despair they sprang overboard. They were not all Gert¬ rude Ederles but they had all swum to Amherstburg for picnics at one one time or another and many of them finally landed safely at Puce. Wicked Willie and his crew be¬ ing left in possession of the ship at once made an attack upon the lunch boxes. One after another was opened, and gradually a look of mute despair settled over each counten¬ ance, and at last with a sad and solemn face Wicked Willie and his crew advanced to the top deck of the ship, and one after another jumped overboard. It had been an anti-kosher picnic and they had all brought pork sandwiches and Wicked Willie and all his crew ex¬ cept the cook were Jewish. So endeth the career of Wicked Willie on the thirtieth of February, nineteen hundred and twenty-seven. ISABEL MITCHELL—C2D. -o- The Prize Essay THE ANCIENT TECH! It was midnight! Not a sound could be heard. The silence en¬ veloped the country side, as did the curtain of night—dark and lonely. In the blackness could be seen, looming up blacker still a huge, lonely shape that appeared to be a building, and the trees, silently keep¬ ing watch around it made it look ghostly in the night. The sky was overcast, and neither stars nor moon could lie seen. The air was heavy with a sense of evil, as I, tramp and gentleman of leisure passed slowly down the lonely lane towards the house. It was summertime and the heat was stifling. The honeysuckle on the nearby hedges scented the night air with a heavy odour, and adding to the “spooky aspect of the place, there came a long, low rumbling. It was only the rising storm, as the wind began to whisper among the trees. The rumbling grew to a growl, the growl to a scream as the wind gathered force, shaking the mighty trees, and whistling round the house. Then thunder pealed high above, and lightning illumin-

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The Windsor-Walkerville Technical School Year Book 23 about it, and played on with our toys, blissfully unaware of the great turmoil which was tearing Europe asunder. But one day when we were in school, we were startled by the sound of the trampling of many horses. Looking out we beheld a great number of German cavalry¬ men, and. young as we were, we realized, that our town had been taken by the Germans, and that we were prisoners. This was my first recollection of the Great War. The Germans proceeded to take up their quarters in the homes of the villagers, many of whom refus¬ ing to submit to their wishes, were taken from their loved ones and made to work against their native land. Refusing to do this many of them were shot, or imprisoned. All this while, the deafening roar of the cannons, and the bursting of shells continued. Sentinels were posted about the town and the people were allowed to go only certain distances. Every day long lines of soldiers passed through our town, carrying guns, and ammunition to the Front. During the bomb raids, which were numerous, we were obliged to stay in concrete cellars, until the danger was passed. 1 remember one time when my father was taken prisoner, but he escaped by crawling through a small hole in his prison, and re¬ turned to us almost dead from ex¬ haustion. After about four years of this, we were given word to leave the town, as the allies were coming. Abandoning our beloved home we were forced to flee, taking with us only a small amount of food, ancl a few articles of clothing, tied up in a big handkerchief. My sister, and 1 brought with us a small wagon filled with a few necessities. I re¬ member well the starting. It was eight o’clock, in a September even¬ ing. 1918. and all the little stars were out. With tear-dimmed eyes wc hade our home adieu, and started out along the highway. Before and behind us, were long lines of the refugees, each carrying bundles of his property. It was a pitiful sight. to see old men and women stagger¬ ing along the dusty road, with their possessions in their arms. Tiny children hardly old enough to walk alone, trudged bravely on, carrying heavy bundles. One old man wheeled his crippled wife in a wheel barrow. About ten o’clock, we reached the home of an aunt, who gave us shelter for the night. Early in the morning, we started out again. The line of the refugees was now miles long. About noon we reached the city of Courtrai, but, to our dismay, we found that the cit y was being bombed. We sought shelter in a cellar of a large building nearby. We were obliged to keep damp cloths over our noses and mouths to protect us from the poisonous gas. Even then, many people died from the effects of this gas. Among them was my uncle. As soon as we were able, we continued our journey. From town to town, we wandered, always keeping a certain distance ahead of the scene of fighting. Once we had a narrow escape. We had taken refuge in a large house, on the edge of a little town. We re¬ mained there peacefully a week, but at the end of that time my father declared that we must move on. My mother protested, saying that we had been so peaceful that it would be well for us to remain longer. But my father was firm, and that night we set out. And it was well for us that we did. Immediately after we had left, a family of twelve moved in. The morning after their arrival a bomb shattered the house, and all were killed, hut a twelve year old boy. For over a month we wandered on until at last came the joyful tidings, that the Armistice was signed. The people of Canada well remember the joy that surged through the country, at the news that the war was over. But, to us in Flanders, homeless, and bereaved by the war, it was a god¬ send, and our joy knew no bounds. And now it is all over. May God allow no more world strife. ANNA P1NOO—C3B.