Petersburg High School - Missile Yearbook (Petersburg, VA)

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l Circle the Old Dominion By William Puryear I ESIRING the adventures of travel and yet wishing to have a feel- ,qpg 9 . . . . . :gugglgi ing of security, both financial and physical Calso driven by pov- ertyj I conceived the idea of enlisting in the Civilian Conserva- 2 tion Corps. Now wait, I know exactly what you are thinking, that I really meant that I wished to cultivate the technique of consuming alcoholic beverages, to develop the art of casting the ivory cubes with the black dots, acquire the ability of producing royal flushes from the fifty-two articles of that game of chance, or learn to mas- ter the vocabulary of cursing. That, my friend, is your and the other four hundred's idea of the C. C. C., and that's where you are all crazy. I de- fend it because I have belonged to it, I know by experience and you know only the one-tenth of it that you see on the streets. To begin with it was one of those hot and sultry summer mornings in '36, when the scorching sun sent its first searing rays of white heat penetrating to the very soul of mankind, when the blistering concrete walks combine with the reflecting glass windows of houses to form a glar- ing scene of eye-torturing humidity. An eye glass case, tooth brush, pencil, torn blue shirt, faded brown cotton trousers, and green shorts completed my lavish wardrobe. Twenty-six negroes and six white boys comprised the little social group that met at the court house to await transportation to the recruiting office in Richmond. The negro-owned bus with its colored driver finally arrived, the six white boys and twenty-six colored boys piling together into it. With windows closed the stuffy bus soon reeked with a musky, nauseating odor that stifled and choked. I didn't mind, I felt lost and forlorn anyway. If you have never left home with only twenty-five cents in your pocket, and no food in your hand, and not knowing your des- tination, then you cannot comprehend my emotions. I guess the other five white boys felt just as bad, for they were not very talkative. Only one of them had I ever seen, the others had never met one another before. From what I gathered from their sketchy speeches one was an orphan who had left his aunt g another was also an orphan who had no relatives and had been forced to make his own way in life since he was twelve. The third boy fthe one I knew slightlyj lived with his father and step-mother, his mother having long ago passed the great T H E M I S S I L E Page seventeen

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But who e'er saw the like of such a breast, 'Tis only proper then, that I repeat, Right- right, right-right, Right here! Men's Vanities have long my patience triedg I cannot fathom one who deems he's dear 5 I would not mar my race with foolish pride. Wait-harken now! Methinks someone is near, Right- right, right-right, Right here! My Piano My piano is to me A lovely little maid Who listens, oh so patiently, To everything I've said. Then in echoes soft and sweet My words return again. How tenderly she does repeat I-Ier confidante's refrain. It is to her I often go To ease my lonely heartg I know she'l1 comfort every Woe Before I can depart. Even though my heart is free And lighter than a feather, To her I go and share my glee So We can laugh together. To tell her all my woes and joys I touch her with my hands 3 Then I hear her gentle voice And know she understands. Pagesixtew THE MISSILE

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divide. The fourth boy was very rough and hard, a remorseless type who had served time in the State Reform School and city jail. The fifth lad was from Hopewell. He said that he was compelled to work to send his little sister to school and support the family. The sixth, of course, myself. The negroes appeared to be of the lowest kind, both mentally and morally. We arrived in Richmond and spent the greater part of the day at the recruiting office, uncertain still as to our next move. Here our first charity on the government was a fifty-cent lunch in a nearby restaurant to each man. Sometime that evening we were placed on an electric car and taken to the railroad station. A special train with two cars only, one for the negroes and one for the six white boys, took us to West Point, Va. At West Point we boarded a boat that plies the Chesapeake Bay to Baltimore, Md. Coincidentally, it was the same passenger boat that burn- ed up this summer on the Chesapeake. It burned exactly one year from the day that I traveled on it. To think of it more seriously, had I been born one year earlier or enlisted in the Civilian Conservation Corps one year later, then I would probably have perished in the Hames. My voyage up the bay took place in the twilight and night. I had hardly been on the boat an hour when a steward requested us to take our dinner before the rush at six o'clock. Even at this early hour several ladies and gentlemen sat at tables around us partaking of food. One of the boys wore a coat, and as the rest were in shirt sleeves he proceeded to shed his. The captain, who was entertaining several ladies, walked over and discourteously told the boy to don the coat, that ladies were present. He also made a remark to the effect that he ought to have known that filthy rodents of the gutters would not have the decency to possess a coat. We took it as a joke and smiled. After dinner we all went on deck to View the James River scenery as we had not passed into the bay yet. The boat stopped at numerous docks to take freight and passengers. Night found us six forgotten in- dividuals still sitting by the rail with the salty spray blowing in healthy gusts into our faces. The last stop we made that night left a melancholy mood in my mind, and a lingering remembrance still returns to haunt and choke me. I stood alone at the rail watching the deck hands loading vegetables, and the mill- ing country folk that had come to meet the boat. A dance hall was built out on the water. Many happy and carefree couples danced to the melody of a hit song of that season. As they laughed and smoked Page eighteen T H E MIS S I LE