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

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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

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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'

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1f-:+-a-n-R-..-an--r.f.f5aw' :fair-+fffl5Q1f: ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' - ' ' ' ' : ?25-'l5P?f'Y5f1? 5f57iff5f5!'9f5ff'ifi?ffi Q5 +01 is LLM.-f, L? 1- 1 5.753475 Liifiisffiwih.-V2.1 :'.-x'-'1f'lTi?'!'.if'51'i?'S.2H lg 'if' i '7 'Z' 1 '. 1?Mfi?:?'- 57941 li ,Q -L :Al , ff-'VE 7 14 , ., 4 . , f ' e9'Ef::3, iE?:4i.1 1?s:g- 5f',,.'1.'-U gi 'cf gg Y-y-1 if - 3 as-I-1:1 '- 9? ' mi- , V .f .1 ip ?' Wziiifj -! pretty bad. Better lay off a while and oome with me. This loneliness is going to get the best of you. What say? McMann: fsighingj Ch, no, I don't want to leave this place. Cook: Don't want to leave this barren, goodfforfnothing place! Why, man, you're simply throwing away the best years of your life. It's this eternal silence that's gotten on your brain. Better sell out and cofme with me before it's too late . McMann: No. Cook: Oh, for Cod's sake, be reasonable, Mac. This hovel and a few hundred head is no excuse for your burying yourself here. I'11 lay over a few days to give you time to sell out. You can't go on like this forever. C'mon old man. I'm dying to get among humanity again. McMann: No. Cook: Oh hang it all! Why not? McMann: Oh, Steve, I can't go home, my father thinks I'm dead! I may have been a fool, but I wouldn't be so low as to bring dishonor to Dad or break his heart because his son, because I Qhe breaks off and pauses for breathj. When Uncle Sam declared war, I was afire with enthusiasm and was eager to reach the front. I went over with the very Hrst ship' load of American soldiers. We were rushed right into the firing lines. My very Hrst night I was put on as sentinel and out there under the stars by myself, with fighting going on over on the West Front, bombs ex' ploding in midfair and showering everything with deadly fire, with the roar of machinefguns in 'my ears, the breeze blowing to my nostrils the stifling odor of gunfpowder, of burning fragments, of charred bodies, there came over me a horrible feeling. I tried to shake it off, but it haunted me constantly. I had to kill! Ch Cod! I had to murder my fellowfmen! All my hatred, all my enthusiasm had vanished. They were like brothers to me. iMac jumps frenziedly to his feetj I had been sent over by America, our U. S., to take human life, to help mow down men like cattle! I, with my own hands, would do things that would separate families forever. I would cause mothers to weep and wives to cry out in frenzied agony for their husbands. I would have to crush out life that the Almighty God had intended for some purpose. Those men were like brothers to me. I could not kill my father, and I could not kill them! When we charged the foe that night, I deserted. iMac drops exhausted into a chairj I could not go home and partake of the blessings of my country when I