Piedmont High School - Tris Yearbook (Piedmont, WV)

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1 l l rl lit might Iiaahe 352211 worse It happened back in '16 as near as I can remember. We lived in a little village in Belgium. My father was the blacksmith. He was a big, strong man, who I am glad to say never lived to see our country destroyed. He went to the war at the first call, leaving me to take care of the shop. The Germans were steadily advancing day by day, leaving desolation in their path. Refugees passed through our village at all hours of the day, fleeing to places of safety. The Germans were only a few miles away and the villagers were hastily leaving their homes. With others I stayed in the village, thinking that we would be perfectly safe. However, one night the Germans arrived and took possession of the shop where I slept. I remained in the cold that night and got but one scanty crust of bread the next day. The soldiers were continually kicking and cursing me. I planned revenge upon one big officer who had offended me. Back of the shop was a pile of old horse shoes and I secured some of these and hid behind the forge to wait for the officer to go by. Finally, he ap- peared, alone and drunk, staggering up the street. When he reached the open door of the shop I raised cautiously from behind my, what I thought to be, secure hiding place, and hurled a shoe at his head. It landed on his forehead, dazing him for a moment. He then recovered his sense and call- ed for some men who were in a nearby inn. They had almost given up the search for me, when the dust that they had stirred up caused me to sneeze. They then found my hiding place, and jerked me out and threw me on the hard, stone floor. I lay there with the fear of death upon me. When the officer said something to the men I was pulled to my feet and my right arm was held out in a horizontal position by the iron grip of a burly private. To my horror I saw the officer draw his keen sword and start toward me. I struggled with all my might, but could not escape. My cries of terror brought villagers and soldiers to the door to see what was going on. I pleaded with the soldiers and the villagers, but the villagers were afraid to oppose the soldiers, who only grinned at me and urged the officer on. He raised the sword and as it started to descend I lost consciousness. When I regained my senses I was aware of a great pain in my left shoulder and painfully glancing in that direction I beheld what I had feared. My left arm had been cut off at the shoulder. Before I lost consciousness again I saw the face of a friend. Some hours later I was aroused by the guttural voices of men. I was rudely pulled out of bed and dragged to the river. I could not offer any re- sistance, because I was weak and faint from loss of blood. I learned from their actions and talk that I was to be thrown in the river to drown. I was in a position now that I didn't care whether I lived or died, so when the sol- diers lifted me up to throw me into the water of the cold river, I felt grat- iiied. At last they threw me and as the water closed over my head I tried Page eighiy-one

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I C4251 desperately to swim but I was too weak. I held my breath until at last I could hold it no longer and as the Wat- er flowed in through my mouth and nose I lost consciousness. I heard voices in the distance gradually louder and when I finally re- gained my sense of hearing I heard my mother say: Bring up another gucket of water, he isn't awake yet. What do you think? It was only a ream. avmhpfzn Have you ever wondered why each graduating class has its Senior play? It seems to be a well established custom, as the end draws near, for this last united effort of the class to be given without fail. Let it be known here that the chief purpose of the play is to obtain money. What money is made is used for the benefit of the school, in the publishing of the an- nual year book, Tris. Part is used to defray necessary class expenses. It can easily be understood then, how valuable are the financial returns of the play. The Senior play is firmly founded and heartily desired by the students and public. Nevertheless, another purpose is to present a worth-while play that will always remain as a monument to the work and ability of the graduat- ing class. Each particular class is generally remembered by its Senior play. Mention the class of '24 and one immediately thinks of Mr. Bob. Every Senior should feel that he is responsible in some Way for the success of this last united effort of the class. DESSIE FOX '25 ill.-il laughs Build for yourself a strong box, Fashion each part with careg Fit it with clasp and padlock, Put all your troubles in thereg Hide therein all your failures, And each bitter cup you quaff, Lock all your heartaches within it, Then sit on the lid and laugh. Tell no one of its contentsg Never its secrets share. Drop in your cares and worries, Keep them forever there. Hide them from sight so completely The world will never dream half, Fasten the top down tightly, Then-sit on the lid and laugh! Page eighty-twn