Polytechnic High School - Caerulea Yearbook (Long Beach, CA)

Page 29 text:

LITERAQEIIIIIIIII l I I lllllllllll IIIIIIIHIIE3 What's your name? Argue, Anson ,l., I informed him. The corporal flashed a smile of approval and promptly issued me the best bag he could pick out. You'll find your puttees inside. Bost, he continued, addressing sjomeone at the other end of the hall, put down Argue, one barrack' ag. Argue, one barrackfbagf' repeated the person addressed as Bost. Check, said the corporal automatically. Taking my new incumbrance, I shouldered it up the company street. As I passed the orderly tent again, I saw a line forming. The men in this line seemed pleased and eager. What's the line for? I demanded of one. Rifles Better hurry if you want one today. I hurried, indeed I ran to my tent. Taking the barracksfbag by the bottom I dumped the contents out on the floor. Hastily I fumbled for the puttees, and with slight regard for looks, I donned them. In a trice I was at the end of the line, waiting for a rifle. I won't bother with a long tale about a long line. Let it suffice to say that I reached the head in due time. As before, I handed a slip to a soldier at the door, who introduced me by reading from it, Argue, Anson J. I stepped smartly into the room. A figure, bending over a box, straightened to hand me a rifle, generously daubed in grease. U, S. Army magazine rifle, calibre 30, model 1903, he droned. U, S. Army magazine rifle, calibre 30, model 1903, came the monot- onous answer. One bayonet, scabbard, and belt, droned the first. One bayonet, scabbard, and belt, came the echo. Check, said the first, and I was ushered out with my hands full of my newly acquired artillery. Arriving at my canvas domicile, I dumped the armament on the floor and proceeded to wipe cosmoline, the substance, very greasy, with which my rifle had been coated, off of my hands. A boy who had been sitting on a bunk in the back of the tent, unnoticed by me, came forward and offered his hand. I guess we're tentfmatesf' he said. My name's Brown. 'Tm Argue, Anson I. I returned cordially. You mean, Anson Argue? he queried. Check, I affirmed. Shakef'

Page 28 text:

9 24 CAERULEA 25 IIIIIIIIIllllKIIIIIIIIIIIIIHIIIIIIIIIHIIIIlllllllllllllllIIIIIIIHIIHIIIIIIIIIXIIIIIIIIlIIIlIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIHIIIllIIIlllllllllllllllllllllllIIIllIllllIIllIIIIlIIIlIIIllIIHIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIlIIIllllIlIIllIIllllllllllllllllllllllf It looked like a department store at a closing out sale. No attempt was made to please the customers. Say, you ought to have seen the breeches they handed me! The company fatfboy and I traded and each of us had a good fit for the other. But let's get back to the story-I have to get the pants before I can trade them. Soon my name blared forth. I hurried, forcing my way through to the counter. Watch me, instructed the clerk as I reached the counter, and began laying out clothing, calling each part by name, and marking it off on a slip. Is that right? he questioned as he finished. HQ. K. , I affirmed briskly. Check, he muttered to himself, and then aloud to me, Sign here. With my bundle under my arm I struggled back to my tent. Quickly I donned the long desired clothing. But I found a 'moment later, to my disgust, that I had no leggings. My heart boiled within me to ind that I still had some more stray clothes to chase down, after that tediously long line, those humiliating questions, and that long walk back to my tent under that cumbersome bundle. I've got to have leggin's, I reasoned. 'Tm going to make a kick and get them. I bustled down to the orderly tent. I ain't got any putteesf' I blurted to the innocent orderly sergeant. No puttees? he asked. Yes, no puttees, I afhrmed. Well, tain't none o' my businessfl and with a shrug of his shoulders he turned and went inside the tent. I stood for a minute stunned by this reply. Then sticking my head inside the tent, I asked, Where will I get them? That's your business, not mine, came the growling return. Well, maybe it is, I thought. L'I'll find out if I have to pester the whole company. Darn the whole business! Conquering this momentary wave of rebellion, I assailed a nonfoom. It happened to be our supplyfcorporal. Where can I get some puttees? I-Ie looked me over casually. Got your barracksfbag yet? No, I acknowledged. 'Come down here, then, he said, leading the way to a messfhall. The messfhall, at present, was used to store barracksfbags pending their issue to the students. The corporal stepped inside and dropped behind a desk.

Page 30 text:

P A ,W glgmiy DOBCOEIHEIYQ NAIQISDON f . TIME: Present CHARACTERS: McMann Cook Gardiner Allison SCENE: The scene is the interior of a rude log cabin on the plains of Argentine. Only the bare necessities are in evidence. The room shows that it has been a home with a cosy, open firefplace. Now everything speaks of neglect. A spirit of loneliness hovers over the place. The fire blazes feebly in the grate. Over it is huddled a solitary figure. As the curtain rises, McMann is seen bowed over, his head in his hands. There is utter silence for several moments, during which he remains motionless. A rap is heard at the door. He sighs and rouses himself, but before he can rise the door is opened and Cook comes in, dropping his bundle in a corner. Cook: fwarming his hands at the firej Lord, what a night! The wind from the hills is devilish cold. Thank Cod, I'm leaving this place. Came to tell you 'adios', old chap. McMann: Quitting the plains for good? Cook: Yes. Can't endure it. Nothing to see. Nobody to talk bo. This past year out here has been hard as hell for me. Don't see how you've stood it here so long. McMann: Five years tomorrow that I first staked here. Cook: Five years! Lord, I like your grit. Five years of herding on these plains. Not a soul within ninety miles till I landed here, and now that I'm leaving, you won't see a man till spring when you go down to fetch grub and more gritters, though goodness knows what you're figuring on doing with them all. McMann: fdisconsolatelyj So you're trekking tonight. Well- you never were much for these plains. So it's all for the best, I suppose. The place will seem kind of lonesome without you, old chap. Where are you headed for? Cook: I'm going back home! Back to the states, Mac! I'm through with these Codfforsaken places. I want to get back where there's honest' tofgoodness people, where there's men and women instead of QI-Ie stops to study Mac critically as he shuffles over to the woodfbox and brings an armful of wood and throws it on the firej I say, Mac, you're looking