Milbridge High School - Light Yearbook (Milbridge, ME)

Page 20 text:

16 THE LIGHT SCHOOL I wandered slowly to Millbridge High That stands so erect in the town, When, suddenly, I saw a crowd, A group, of boys and girls standing around, Out in front and on the steps Talking and laughing, full of pep. Continuous until the bell does ring And calls them into the room, They go to their seats by a broken line All settled and are quiet soon: F ifty-two students when all in their seatsg The three teachers looking very neat. The pupils beside them, but they Ready to take the attendance, Oh, such a cold, cold day! Books are open but in pretension: They gaze and look with little thought, Knows to one what joy this has brought. For then, in the classes they sit In vacant and pensive moods, Then all of a sudden the bell is hit And breaks the solitude, Day is ended with heads full of knowledge, So in the future they might attend college. -Yvonne Davis, '46, HOMEWARD BOUND On the frosty morn of December twenty-second at La Havre, France, more than two thousand G. I.'s became overwhelmed with joy as the name Queen Mary in large, luminous letters reflected upon their faces. Two or three weeks of impatient waiting for transportation to the U. S. A. had elapsed as they paced the floors and poked coal fires. Now as soon as we could board ship we would be going home to stay. I feel justified in saying to stay, for each and every one had done his duty and served his time as tnie Ameri- can soldiers will, so Uncle Sam was rewarding us with the well-known point system, which gave us all a release. After being arranged on ship, some of us were put on K. P. durty and I was one. When I say I, Johnnie Blink is the name, but just call me Blinky. Trying to settle down to work, my mind drifted back to the simple, white wooden crosses stretched for miles on a lonely hill which rep- resents the valor, skill and gallantry displayed by young boys like myself. For some unknown reasons their life had not been spared. Maybe, I thought, they have joined a happier and better world rather than coming home crippled or dis- figured. It all seemed logical for an instant, then other mental pictures Hooded my mind, such as reprisal attacks, days of near starvation, days of anguish and hostile guns which maimed my many friends. My brows cast shadows of scorn and odium at these infusible thoughts of the brutal enemy. Shaking and trembling, I knew this never would do so I cast the qualm of anger aside and resumed my duties. Insomnia was my chief problem that night so I went on deck where movies were shown to entertain us. Suddenly, without any warning a severe storm approached. Our ship was tossed about by the violent waves like paper boats. This brought back memories of my childhood days when Mom would soold us as I marched in with the neighborhood boys to play war with our paper boats, tin soldiers and guns. Now I had experienced it all. My attention automatically came back from the past to the future and I stood at the bow of our ship drenched through and through as a monstrous, obstinate wave bounced upon me. Pensively, I moved before the second one came that would have swept me off the deck. Day after day similar to this one rolled by with many so seasick it made no difference what happened nent. Another incident which I must reveal appears rather humorous now but annoying then. One might attempt to take a spoonful of food and unfortunateely it would go sliding by but just in time to get that mouthful from his neighbor's plate. When that strenuous journey was about half completed I remember hearing three shrill gun salutes from our ship. Later I leamed a Captain had died and was buried at sea. On the thirteenth day, as I was on deck gazing into the clear blue sky, I heard someone force- fully shout, Yes, sir, she is still and always will be waiting for us. We had entered New York Harbor and as he said the Statue of Liberty offered us a hearty and inviting welcome. It cer- tainly gives any veteran a wonderful feeling to get a first glimpse of the Statue of Liberty when retuming from overseas duty. -Arletta Ray, '46.

Page 19 text:

TI-IE LIGHT w 1 SENIORS Back row--Ysonne Davis, Mary Strout, Alana Strout, Elaine Ray, Martha King, Helen Ray. Second row-Alton Strout, Douglas Eldridge, XVilliam Edes, Richard Pinkham. Front row--Arletta Ray, Madelyn Str-out, Delvine Sprague, Vera Helen Freeman. STRIKES Since the war our people are greedy, To have more money to help their needy, But strikes never are the way To secure positions and higher pay. The soldiers of this war were brave, And for us their lives they gave. People of this nation should Forget these strikes for their own good. -Martha King, '46, BUY VICTORY STAMPS Although the war is over And victory we have won, We cannot say with a true heart That our job is completely done. There are still many tasks to be finished. So don't lag on the way, Go to your post office daily And buy a stamp each day. Thcy're not war stamps now, But victory stamps they're called. Bc a good investor And don't let your country fall. The money you are now investing Will help bring the boys back, So keep the minute man flag flying For thc country which you'll never slack. -Helen Ray, '46

Page 21 text:

TI-IE LIGHT 17 IUST ANOTHER RAID At a lonely base somewhere in the Pacific, a group of impatient men were gathered around an Army jeep. The night was dark, the only light being the moon, which was barely visible behind the rolling clouds, but sometimes it escaped from its prison long enough to cast ghastly shadows on objects below. Before this silent group of G. I.'s stretched a long, narrow strip of charred, brown earth. They appeared to be expecting something. No one spoke. Each seemed absorbed in his own thoughts. The mosquitoes were very busy, but their victims did not seem to react as they should. Then, the omnipresent silence was broken. He,s probably out hunting for some more Zeros to play tag withl' Iohnny'll be in when he thinks of his roast chicken and cream piel said the commander of the squadron. When all were devouring their K Rations, johnny never failed to discuss his home in Maine and the wonderful chicken dinner his Mom pre- pared. From the general conversation, one gathered that Johnny was the favorite of the squadron. His troubles became the others. Although he was the most daring and had shot down the most planes, johnny always managed to come in from a mission, his prized possession, Lily-Belle, sometimes minus a wing or a wheel. It's coming-it's the planef' As the roar of a plane was heard, shouts of joy filled the night air. Then- Quick, everyone! That's no American plane, those are Iap fighters! The boys lost no time in reaching the foxholes. The first bombs tell. it was a direct hit. The lower end of the air field became a thing of the past. Damn those yellow rats! Iohnny'll never get in now! Don't be too sure of that! Look! The Iaps just don't shoot down their own men! A Jap fighter was rapidly descending in a ball of fire, illuminating the sky as if a searchlight had pierced the blackness. Five planes were seen by the amazed spectators in the foxholes. One was an American fighter! johnny wants his roast chicken! shouted the boys, joyously. Never had his friends seen such a performance nor would they again. Dodging in and out, Johnny managed to cause a collision between two of his ufriendsf' But the final victory was not for johnny. Intense in his courageous deed, Johnny and his Lily-Belle became a direct target for destruction. All was still after the crash. The Iaps, satisfied to have shot down the enemy of the pilots of the rising sun, flew calmly away, buck-teeth show- ing through a malicious grin. In the foxholes no one uttered a word. Each bowed his head, knowing in his heart that Johnny went down in glory, saving the lives of his friends. It was just another raidl -Vera Helen Freeman, '46, SORROWS OF A HEN-PECKED HUSBAND Constant confusion reigned throughout the Hinklefoot household. Since early moming of this particular day in early April there had been an unceasing number of mishaps, some amusing and others on the slightly serious side. Of course, when one lives in a topsy-turvy house like this one, a person would look for almost anything to happen. So, as is true of the first warm day of any spring, one 'thought was lodged in the brain of Mrs. Hinklefoot-spring housecleaning. And to make matters decidedly worse, her husband, the obedient Archibald P. Hinklefoot, was asked to solicit his services. Did someone say he was reluctant to aid her? That's putting it very mildly indeed. He acted flippant about his refusal to her so to keep everything going smoothly but on the inside he was seething with anger and chagrin. She knew perfectly well I was planning to go brook fishing with Veesie Peabody today and still she asks me to tie on one of those dilly looking aprons of hers and beat rugs, take down curtains and-yes, I wouldn't be a bit surprised if she asked me to wash themf, wailed the dejected Archibald as he trudged from room to room, obeying his wife's orders. Oh, Archie dear, run up to the attic and bring down that picture I put there last spring, or Rush out in the kitchen and get me a pan of clean water, or Take this chair out into the garage, and similar commands were ringing an unending echo throughout the house.