Maynard High School - Screech Owl Yearbook (Maynard, MA)

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THE SCREECH OWL 11 hallucinations or feeling the after-effects of his recent experience. Surely he must be going insane, for he knew the lighthouse had been abandoned for years. Why then the mysterious light flashing on and off? In his weakened condition, did he dare investigate this myster- ious light or should he wait for a rescue party that was bound to arrive sooner or later? His thoughts were stopped short when he heard a voice, a very curt commanding voice, speaking in a foreign language. The startling realiza- tion came to him — it was the German language that he heard. There were Germans in the lighthouse, and they were sending code by the flashes of light from the tower. How many were there? Did he dare to capture them? There was a sudden thud as he slipped and fell on the slippery rock. It was so loud that the Germans overheard and came running out of the lighthouse, fourteen of them all told. As the lone survivor picked himself up, he grabbed for his gun, which he knew was useless because it had been soaked thoroughly by the salt water. When the Nazis saw a man coming toward them they raised their arms and yelled in broken English, Ve sarrender, kamerad!” The American, shocked to the extent of speech- lessness, just nodded his head in the direction of the nearby lighthouse. The Germans filed through the door and lined up against the wall. Evidently they thought they were going to be shot, for one young sailor yelled, Don’t kill us! Ve vill dell all! Ve surrender, ve your kamerad. The lone American just looked, gritted his teeth, and, keeping one eye plus his gun on the Germans, he commenced to search the room and the rest of the lighthouse. It was then he discovered that the Nazis were out of provisions and that they had mount- ed in the tower a powerful light run by small batteries collected from flashlights. Upon fur- ther questioning of one of the men, the Ameri- can learned that the Germans’ submarine had been hit about two years ago. The only sur- vivors were those he saw before him. They had been living in the Jagged Reefs Lighthouse ever since and subsisting on seagulls, fish, rain water, and what provisions they had managed to steal from the fishing village when they formed raiding parties and went ashore. On stormy nights the men turned the light on in the tower and flashed code out to sea, hoping that some German sub or ship would pick it up and rescue them. Just as the German finished his story, a whistle could be heard in the distance; it was a Coast Guard rescue ship in search of the Navy demolition squad. The lone survivor ordered one of the Germans to flash the tower light on. Upon seeing it, the rescue ship came to investigate and found the American sailor holding the Germans at bay with a useless gun. As in all happy endings, the hero, who was in this particular story the lone survivor, re- ceived a medal, and the mystery of the light at Jagged Reefs Lighthouse was solved. Shirley Bain, ’45 None But the Wandering Mind The door of the auditorium swung open and in we all flocked, spreading in all direc- tions in order to secure our places. Not par- ticular, of course! Just a certain row, certain seat (by the radiator where it’s warm), and by a certain friend. That’s not being too particu- lar now, is it? Whoops, somebody just dropped his books in this mad rush. Pick them up, fellers; its your duty. It’s a fast moving world, that’s sure. It seems that way right now anyway. Is everybody happy? Mr. Mullin has put up his hand, and an- nounced that the Lord’s Prayer and salute to the flag will open the daily exercises. It certainly has quieted down ! Mr. Mullin is now intro- ducing Doctor Butler from Boston University. He is a neat-looking man of about forty-five years, and has a gray suit on. It looks very good with his black hair. I can hear him dis- tinctly right now. He has a very good speak- ing voice. I’m laughing because everybody else is, I guess. Laugh and the world laughs with you. Say, does that proverb fit in there?

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■I II ■! LITERARY. I II II The Light at Jagged Reefs It was one of those ancient structures, the type that is so old no one knew just when it was built or who built it. Crumbling slowly but surely, rock by rock, the Jagged Reefs Lighthouse still stood like a sentinel on guard perched precariously on a solid sheet of rock that jutted out of the ocean. It had been va- cated three years ago because the fishing smacks no longer brought their loads of fish to the small port of Harwich. Many tales had circulated among the super- stitious fisher folk about Jagged Reefs Light- house being haunted. Many times when a Nor’easter lashed the waves of the Atlantic into mighty sheets of water and turbulent whirl- pools, more than one fisherman had seen a light from Jagged Reefs flash on and off as if guiding mythical fishing smacks to their home port as it did in the days of old. This had been going on for many years, but the good fisher-folk were too easygoing and too superstitious to interfere with the supernatural. Then came the war, and the small coastal town became overnight a busy port with a large naval base. An expedition made up of a de- molition squad was sent out to investigate Jagged Reefs Lighthouse. Their orders were to demolish it and survey the small area of rocks to determine whether it could be of any further use in building a lookout tower. When the party was halfway to its destina- tion, a squall descended with a great rush on the small craft. Instantly the boat was tossed to and fro like a tiny match box caught and trapped in a giant whirlpool. All was lost, for the gale was too strong and the boat capsized and sank. Out from the depths of the ocean emerged one wretched survivor, who clung desperately to a piece of driftwood. In the distance through the torrential rain he could see faintly the Jagged Reefs Lighthouse looming gaunt and spectre-like above the tempest. With a final spurt of dying energy the lone survivor pushed on toward the reef. After a few min- utes of swimming against the strength of the waves, he attained his goal and pulled himself up with great effort onto rain-soaked rock, im mediately lapsing into an exhausted stupor. The storm let up and night descended. The lone man, still caught in the clutches of a death-like sleep, finally awoke. Too weak to move, he just lay there and gazed into the starry heavens as if thanking God for his de- liverance from such a horrible end as had befal- len his companions. A cold spray of salt water drenched him to the skin; he became chilled and numb from the cold. So, with waning strength, he turned on his stomach and commenced to crawl up the rock to the lighthouse. There would be shelter at least from the bone-chilling spray, if not from the biting cold. As he glanced toward the lighthouse, he realized it was the first time he had had a good look at the famed Jagged Reefs. It was constructed of gray fieldstone and banked with concrete. At intervals of about ten feet could be seen gaping holes that had been presumably at one time windows and at the very top was a huge circular, dome-like piece of which the roof had partly fallen away. When the waves crashed on the rocks, they threw a spray on the sides of the lighthouse, causing the stones to glisten in the pale moonlight. All this to- gether gave Jagged Reefs a very eerie appear- ance. The lone survivor was walking now, and he headed for the door that was slightly ajar, swinging back and forth with a creaking noise. Then it happened. Just as he started to push the door open, the whole reef was illuminated by a beam that blinked on and off in the lighthouse tower. The survivor drew back, alarmed by the sudden brilliance. He crouched down beside a boulder and watched the light as it cast its rays over the ocean. The poor wretch thought at first he was suffering from

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12 THE SCREECH-OWL Stop thinking, Ardelle, and listen to the good advice Doctor Butler is giving you! Funny he doesn’t wear glasses. He’d look more like a teacher. I’m laughing again! I feel silly. Oh yes, thanks, I’ll have a piece of gum.” Poor Doctor Butler is trying to talk, and peo- ple are still walking in — students from out of town. He doesn’t seem to be getting impatient though. That was funny! He just remarked that something new had been added. I wish that tall girl in front of me would stay on one side of her seat. Every time she shifts, I shift to the opposite side. It must look funny to see us all shifting at once all the way up the row. No, I didn’t go to the show last night. Did you?” Here come some more students. Poor Doc- tor Butler. Yes, he is interesting.” There is one of those new jackets. I think I’ll buy one. They are advertised in Jordan’s for $16.00. I’ll have to save $2.00 more. Whoops! There goes the bell and Doctor Butler has just sat down. I’m clapping for all I’m worth. Everybody is flocking over me. Yes, I thought it was very good.” In fact I thought too much. Ardelle Kane, ’47 Killing of Caesar While preparing my oration about the pas- sage of a law dealing with sanitation in Rome, little did I realize what a sight I was about to see in the course of a few minutes. Since I knew of the banishments of Metel- lus’s brother, Publius Cimber, there was no doubt in my mind why Metellus had gone for- ward to Caesar and had fallen on his knees be- fore him. However, it did bring a question to my mind when both Cassius and Brutus went forth also. Before another minute had passed, there were seven men standing around Caesar. In their talking with him, I came to the con- clusion that something was wrong. Then a thought crossed my mind; it was the Ides of March. Terror filled my heart; but then I thought it was silly to be so superstitious. Suddenly I saw Casca rise and rush toward Caesar, followed by the seven others. There was a great deal of confusion, and everything was hidden from my eyes as the white togas of the men blotted out the scene. I rose from my seat, and, to my horror, below the statue of Pompey lay Caesar, lifeless. My mind went blank. I didn’t know which way to turn. After a brief pause, I saw Brutus come be- fore the Senate. He told us not to be alarmed, for Rome had been freed through the death of Caesar. Upon hearing these words, I left immediate- ly for my home, too shocked to realize that I had witnessed the assasination of a great man. Albert Goodrich, ’47 Nothing Will Stop the Army Airforce The white clouds flashed past a rocket-armed P. 51 as the pilot climbed for altitude, heading toward the sun. The blue sky dotted with white clouds seemed quiescent in the morning sun. On every side of his pursuit ship, bombers and escorts had their nose point- ed upward to gain altitude. This flight of planes had been ordered to bomb one of the Jap-held islands in the Pacific Ocean. Radio si- lence was ordered because they wanted it to be a surprise raid and only in emergencies is the rule broken. As the planes left the coast and flew out to sea, they were attacked by slick, highly-maneu- verable Zeros, with a large red circle painted on each fuselage. The bombers stayed on their course, while the fighters broke formation to engage the enemy. Two Zeros came diving down on Lt. Bob Nolan, who brought up the rear to guard the bombers from a sneak at- tack, which the Japs use the most. Small streaks of flame could be seen shoot- ing out of the enemy’s wings, and the bullets began to chip Bob’s tail. Bob pulled the stick