Loyola University Maryland - Evergreen / Green and Gray Yearbook (Baltimore, MD)

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for two days i)arsc all Iho verbs in the first two lines of Mr. Deinos- llienes’ ‘De Corona. ' And is Fr. Henry Me. still torturing the minds of America ' s prides and hopes with sines and logarithims and equations and atomic weights, as in days past, when “still we gazed and still our wonder grew that one small head could carry all he knew?” So Baltimore didn’t have the old Gold and Blue on the court this past season to show her how hasket-hall should he played. But the reason for it does her proud — her hoys are playing in a more serious game, and with the same good sportsmanship. Here’s luck and good wishes to the High School youngsters who are upholding her past traditions. And Mr. Lapsley is still on the job, proud in his guardianship of the service-flag. Well, in view of his new dignity, I can forgive him for the many times he “bawled us out” for disturbing his afternoon siesta by ringing the main door hell. The fair sex, too, you say, bless their hearts, are doing their hit in the war game — just another manifestation of the benignant spirit that Loyola fosters. And oh, don’t we all thank them — they’ll never know how much their caressing hands have lightened a gloomy face here and raised a drooping shoulder there. Seven 3 ' ears sinee I “pulled out” from the old college. Honestly, it doesn’t seem that long, Father. But “time will ehange most any man.” I know all the Fathers are anxious to hear how we are faring, now that we are no longer of Loyola’s brood, at least not sheltered by her ])roteeting wing. No need to worry — the ideals she nurtured in our souls have not faded, nor has the example she set us been dimmed. Events that have happened sinee we first “horned into the service” are still fresh in our memories and I suppose we could have quite a “pow-wow” on army life if we could well get together. Well do I recall the day when the first 40 per cent, of our district entrained at Philadelphia, amidst the blare of hands and the sorrow and gladness of sobs and cheers. “Butcher, baker, heggerman, thief, doetor, lawyer, Indian chief” — all were there. This fellow with a New Testament in his hij) pocket, another a pack of cards and the next one a half ])int. Yes, quite a conglomeration was the first 40 per cent. With a final shrieking of whistles and peeling of hells and waving of liandkerehiefs, we ])ulled out from the Chestnut St. station and at last were on our way to the much talked of cantonment. Outside of hand wavings and sliouts to take the natives as we dragged through station after station, and sj)eculations as to what camp life would he like when we got tliere, and the ([uelling of a few boisterous sj)irits, whom final imhihings (frcHjuent and large because they were to he the last for a rattier indefinite period) liad made over patriotic, or garrulous, or jiugnacious — outside of all this — the trip to Meade was uneventful. 10

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(HeiJroduced.hij courteau of Baltimore American FATHER ZIEHLEK SAYING MASS FOR A GROFF OF LOYOLA BOYS AT FORT COVINGTON, BALTI ilORE not “soft stiitf” — we feel that you’re really with us, that “Loyola isn’t forgetting them.” And that magic word “late-slip!” In a wreath of smoke I can picture two or three “last minute-men” hopping olf a St. Paul street car, as it slides hy the Monument street entrance, take three steps at a time and just reach the B. V. M. statue as the old cloister clock dongs nine. And all the crimes that were charged against the traction com- jiany must have made Ananias turn over in his grave as we filed hy your desk and told of the blocks and .wrecks and hroken switches and short circuits that the trolley othcials never seemed to hear of. And I wonder if ntiu know who holds the record for using the same late-slip the most times, when some ahsent-minded Father or “Mister” left it in his desk during recess, thereby placing temptation in the way of youth. “Not much information to give about the old jilace” you say. I don’t suppose it has changed much since the days we spent there- new faces, pcrhajis, hut the same sweet environment, the same old siiirit, and the same high ideals. Ah, yes — there is no Father K to wake you from jileasant day dreams of last night’s doings at the Social Club, Avith the casual remark, the while he very calmly jiolishcd his s])ccs, “So-and-so, I haven’t heard the dulcet tones of 3 0111’ melodious voice 9

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Wc detrained just as dusk was falling and under the lead of a vei ' y impressive-looking lieutenant of Military Police we started the two mile liike through the camp to our assigned barracks. And that tramp in the dark behind a very able pace-maker, with our heavy suit-cases and bundles, through dust six inches deep, brought forth caustic remarks not altogether complimentary to our Secretary of War and his able statf, bordering even on insubordination had we been better versed in military law. By eight o’clock we had been checked in, hurriedly searched for camouflaged liquid refreshments and other contraband articles, issued a blanket and mess kits, and had stowed away a much needed meal, our first in the army. Then we were shown to our bunks and started to swap talk on first impressions. And will I ever forget the first night? If it could only he staged it would run a year on Broadway. Sleep was impossible; the night was very chilly and with a thin straw tick underneath and a light blanket for a cover the bunks didn’t feel over comfortable. A running comment was kept up till after midnight, when the barracks sergeant, an old-timer from the regulars thought he would take a hand in restoring order and hollered upstairs for the crowd to shut up: “No one can sleep with you bunch upstairs jabbering away all night.” And then a harp by the name of Mike Roche, who had yet no profound respect for army discipline, shouted back, “It’s too had about ye.” The sergeant was good na- tured and considerate and let Mike off with two days K. P. (Kitchen Police), hoping that he would soon realize that the non-com is entitled to some respect. And, by the way, a good story is told of “Lights Out.” The barracks arc supposed to l)e in dark- ness at 9:30 P. M. One night after “Taps” had sounded the lop-sergeant noticed a liglit in one corner of the room: “Pul out that light down there,” he ordered. “That’s the moon, sergeant,” came tlie answer. “I don’t give a what it is — put it out ( ' AXlill)ATE MUUltAY SWEEXKY 4tli (Jfficers ' Training Caini), Anniston, Ala. 11