Sarah Dix Hamlin School - Epilogue Yearbook (San Francisco, CA)

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N O T H E R endless night creeps slowly down upon the silent jungle growth. The dark, mouldy steam presses ever loser to the hot earth and twists and turns through tor- tured trees, thick now with buzzing insects. Another moonless, maddening night somewhere in the Pacific! An eerie tenseness seems to pervade the murky atmos- phere. All the unknown wraiths of the jungle melt into shadows and slip silently from tree to tree, as if trying to hide from some unearthly foe. The stars above, the only source of illumination, seem to be a hazy red, as if foretelling the bloody battles yet to come and mourning those gone by. The thick mist suddenly drifts back from beneath one tree, as if pushed away by some great invisible hand. It discloses a huddled man, pressing his face into the slimy mud to strangle cries of agony that shake his tom and bloody form. Who is this man? Iust another soldier who was willing to die for his country. But to die like this: to lie for three fiery days and three sleepless, haunted nights, without aid, and, worst of all, without the strength to reach the pistol that lies there taunting him? The thoughts that pound in his brain are strange thoughts. Through the delirious hours he cries, sobs out his defiance of his enemies and his love for life. But he has now a greater love for death. If God would only send him death! Another choking scream racks his body, and he presses his face deep in the slime and beats the ground with mangled hands. Oh, God, why can't I die? Why? What have I done to lie here, dying inch by inch? Please, oh please God, give me death. I've never asked you for much in my life. I know I haven't been as religious as other fellows I've seen, but you know how I feel in my heartg how I'vc uttered silent prayers to you and thanked you when they were ful- filled. I've fought for what I thought was right, and they'll never know what happened to me out here. When it's over, I'll just be a pile of rotten bones and a rusty dog-tag, buried under mouldy earth and dripping fog. The soldier hadn't heard the slight noise, the soft whispering of a leaf tumbling down, and the tiny, sharp, metallic click. I-Iis ears were too tired we-up - --141-' f i -A 'N Snmttuhtrt in tht Datitit