Quincy High School - Goldenrod Yearbook (Quincy, MA)

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Editorial 3ht ifli'muriant Since the close of hostilities, mam varied suggestions have been offered as to what form of memorial Quincy High School should establish for those men— our friends and classmates—who paid the supreme sacrifice. One student is not capable of deciding upon a fitting and effective dedication. I bis project is so important it needs the best in ideas from several pupils who, themselves, should solve the problem ol a fitting memorial. In general the suggestions have been plaques and statues. William Guyctte suggested that a new pony should be erected, to take the place ol the old one. which is cracked in several places. The pony has always been a symbol to the students ol Quincy High—and even more so to those who’ve gone. Is it necessary that this memorial be built by the hands of men? Would not having it built in the hearts of men be even more potent? This sentiment was very adequately and simph expressed In Ruth Fandel, when she said. And now as you lie with your buddies, some ol whom died for a way they never fully understood, you wonder if back home they‘11 remember, because that’s all you ask them to do is to remember—those who gave their lives. Laurice Haynes believes that the best type of memorial would be a scholar- ship which would enable a boy or gill to enter college for earnest research ami study. Now. in this atomic era, the need for intelligent men and women is pre- eminent. II this country is to remain at peace with the other nations ol the world, it must have the support of every man. woman and child. Onl through education of these people will future wars be avoided and a lasting peace obtained. The best conceivable type of memorial today is one which will prevent another memorial tomorrow. M aI REF.N Mot ETON The boys and girls of America today must face an unprecedented problem in education, an enigma—How to get into college? The nation’s institutions ol higher learning are and will be overcrowded with returning veterans, high school graduates, and their wartime enrollment. It is only just that every ex-serviceman be given a fair chance to make good in college if he so desires. This means that some ol the high school graduates of 1946 simply must wait, for a brief period, at least. There are outlets to the solution of the question. Many of the veterans who do enter school, will doubtless abandon theii plans for extended education aftei a not too lengthy stay in college. Room lor more young men is being made in some co educational institutions by drastic 01 complete reduction of the feminine enrollment. This, of course, in helping to supply the answer to the male dilemma, is adding to the female predicament. It means that girls’ colleges will have an augmented entrance list to handle. Concerning the possible additional question as to whether or not 18-year olds will be inducted into some form ol military service either by peacetime con- sci ipiion oi compulsory legislation, the outlook doesn’t seem too dark. The gov- ernment may have to be satisfied to secure the necessary forces by the voluntary enlistment of young men. Many boys intend to enlist for a one and a half or two year stretch to gain G. I. privileges upon discharge and to pass over the time between high school graduation and college entrance. The veteran must come first today. Where there is room, the more worthy civilians rale second choice—the others will have to wait. Paul Goode

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PVT JIM OVERMIRE. JR 67458. U.S.M.C. During the moonlit night the transport packed with fighting men, fighting equipment, moved and zigzagged its way through the smooth Pacific waters in convoy; men were about the decks, talking, joking, laughing, in groups, in pairs— passing awa time in the best manner. Time was free and plentiful now; before long it would end for some. Laurie Sherman and I had just finished arguing. Now we stared into the night, at the stars, and at the moon. I still thought that combat wouldn't be too tough; anyway, with faith in yourself and in your own sacred beliefs, you could go through, and maybe even do a few heroic things, make day dreams real. Laurie. I knew, was different. How foolish and even cowardly his opinions seemed, to me—his not wanting to see action, his constant fear of sudden death, his hoping never to go in. . . . Well. Laurie, you just wait and see; it won't be too bad. And anyway, that's why I joined the Marines—to get some action; maybe soon I'll get that chance. I muttered almost angrilv. He would never see my point of view, so what was the use of talking to him about an operation. We changed the subject, therefore, and were back on the same level—talking and planning our good times to come on our future dates, the old get-togethers of our crowd, and the hell we would raise when we got back home. You see, Laurie and I were real buddies, both from Grant- ville; being buddies, it was easy to pass away the time talking- radio of the desperate Jap resis- tance and of the high casualties among our men. seen a few planes shot from the sky, realized the huge fues were actually our own fuel and ammunition dumps. Yet no orders had come for us to go ashore; instead, confusion was throughout the ship, and men peering through binoculars, watching the tiny dots that were our men on shore. A regi ment of experienced Marines on board had left earlier in the morning, but I was only a replacement, one of many. It seemed tough to me—seeing the others go to the island while we stayed behind and waited, waited as if all and every- body had suddenly forgotten our presence. Combat was still for me fighting the enemy, heroes and gallant battles, fear unheard of on the front lines. But why. I wondered, had the veteran Marines who had left earlier this morning been so still, so disinterested; why were there no jokes, no laughter, no horseplay? Probably there was something I hadn’t learned yet . . . but no. the feeling surged through me again. As I waited, the order, Move out,” would not come soon enough. We had watched the smoking island where the beachhead had been established and advances pushed inward, heard over the talking until we both decided to ' hit the sack.” P page sixteen