Pickering College - Voyageur Yearbook (Newmarket, Ontario Canada)

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The Voiyageur nj gan ,I George 'Thurber' McGowan T WAS a hot, sultry, mid-May afternoon. Johnny Forsythe sat in the hard A, chair behind his desk, trying hard to give his full attention to what the teacher was saying about the beauty of Shakespeare's writing. The heat and stuffiness of the classroom numbed his senses, however, and he sank lower and lower in his seat. Still Johnny tried to pay attention, but it was of no use, and finally, giving up the effort, he closed his eyes drowsily. The hum of voices and the click, click of chalk on the blackboard first faded, and then it seemed that the sounds grew louder and louder, until they rose into the excited shouts of men, and the roar of diesels. - - - - c'Lieutenant Forsythe, sir, cried a sailor, Hperiscope to port. Sheis surfacing, sirf, Grabbing the wheel of the lVl.T.B. Johnny swung her in the direction indicated. HMake ready torpedo tubes, he yelled. Seconds later a voice came back, ulieady, sirfi 4'Fire Onef' ordered Johnny, then almost immediately, uFire Twof, HNice timing, sir,', exclaimed a junior ofiicer, 'cgot her right amidships. Youill be decorated for this, probably at the palace by - - -f' iiJohnny. will you please sit up and answer my questionf' said the teacher for the second time. Oh, - - - uh, sorry' mumbled Johnny, jerking up, MI, - - uh, well, - - er, - - that is. NNever mind, Campbell, you answer the questionf, The student rose and began giving a long answer, and Johnny slumped down, the hum in his ears growing louder again. 6'Colonel Forsythe will see you now for few minutes, said the pretty C.W.A.C. at the desk, to the gentlemen of the press. Flocking into the inner office, they fired questions at Johnny with the rapidity of a pom-pom gun. ul-low did you win the Victoria Cross? - - - Are you going back? - - - When? - - - When will the war end? - - uGentlemen, please! said the cool voice of the colonel, G4What I did was merely in the line of duty. It had to be done and l was the one to do it. Nothing spectacular. l have no views on the War. l am a busy man. Good daylw They left immediately. 64What a day! muttered Colonel Forsythe, MI would much rather be back in Italy than on the staff here. However, orders must be - - -. HForsythe, will you please pay attention heref, cried the angry teacher. Again Johnny jerked upright and studied earnestly for a few moments, but he soon succumbed to drowsiness and slipped down in his seat, while the sounds of the classroom died out and the humming voice increased. ' 22

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The Voyageur - - - - uThat,s Dr. Forsythe, the world famous surgeon, said the President at his annual ball, as Johnny strolled by. The hum grew louder still. A headline proclaimed: Torsythe, greatest lawyer of our day, appointed to Senatel' 6'Forsythe plans bridge to span Atlantic! i p,. 'Torsythe revolutionizes the world of mathematicsf' The hum became much sharper and strongerg slowly Johnny realized that a bell had been ringing. He opened his eyes to find the classroom deserted. Picking up his books he sauntered out of the door. . usome dayf, thought Johnny, as he strolled down the street, hsome day I'm going to be a great manf, ' pm .- f. Tudor-Hart . GIGNAC WAITED. He stared down the Boulevard expectantly. examining each passing face with an eye trained to observe without being con- spicuous. Of little interest to M. Gignac were most of the passers-byg the booted ones, who seemed to make a continuous effort to appear natural, with tilted forage caps and loud conversation that shocked the cold and empty streets of the dead city. M. Gignac was an island of mufti amid the green uniforms that surged about the cafe-those uniforms that strove to ignore the terrible loneliness of the invader in the land of the ffait aeconiplif M. Gignac lazily followed with his eyes each of those whose footsteps were heard approaching down the lane of trees. He was very interested. but very nervous. Although he had been in this game for months, these jobs always made him nervous. The risk was great. He always felt stagey and strained when the time cameg everyone's eyes would be on him. He feared that something would go wrong . . . that someone might be caught . . . that someone would talk. Looking about him he found little reassurance in his surroundings. That sergeant over there, leaning against that tree: what was he doing? Waiting for something? Or someone? Perhaps the same man. Nl. Gignar was impatient. Why wouldnit the man come and get it over with? He wished he could leave the horrible job. Perhaps this would be the last one. But he had hoped that last time . . . and the time before . . . and the time before that. He was an oldish man now: he simply hadn't the nerveg he couldnit stand the strain. He had to stop this worrying. It was dark nowg the soldiers passed under the streetlamp and entered the cafe to drink away their loneliness. They would notice how nervous he was if he didn't pull himself together. There was someone now. He was pausing under the lamp to light his cigarette. M. Gignac was nervous as a catg he started when the match spluttered as it was thrown into a puddle. The man dropped something and 23