Scituate High School - Chimes Yearbook (Scituate, MA)

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14 and wave back. He then settled himself behind the machine gun and began to trim the branches around and above my head. As they became scarcer and scarcer, I decided that I might be in his way; so I shifted myself to a better place of refuge behind the main trunk of the tree. He finally stopped firing and so I imagined he had hit what he was aiming at, although it seemed to me he had used up a lot of ammunition to do it. Then a man drove up in one of those war-buggies they call jeeps. All the men piled into it, and they headed for my tree. They must be coming over to see me, I thought, but. as I am the bashful type, I decided it was time to leave. The next day ' s newspaper carried the story of an unknown sniper who was observing the maneuvers of the armed personnel at the Government Restricted Area of Hingham. Luckily, the story went on, Sergeant Boles was on his toes and this sniper was routed before he did any damage. I am still in deathly fear of a visit from the F. B. I. or the War Department. ARE WE SOFT? Rocco Foniri, ' 45 In many of the speeches of Hitler or Tojo, one or the other has said, The American people are soft; they can easily be defeated because of their people and government. Have you ever con- centrated on this subject? Would you say we are soft? Can we easily be defeated? These ques- tions are hard to answer. My opinion is that we aren ' t soft nor can we easily be defeated. Let me give you examples of Americans ' being soft. At Pearl Harbor, did we quit? At Bataan or Corregidor, were we easily defeated? At Coral Sea did we lose? At Midway did we cry? At Guadalcanal were the Marines soft? The Axis talked big then, but they wish they had never started a fight against the men like Mac- Arthur, Eisenhower, Montgomery — and countries like Poland, Greece, France, and even Holland. To those who have died for us we must pay tribute, for they fired bullets, and stopped them too. Those men fighting out there want only one thing. They want America to win this war. They want us to appreciate the values of democ- racy, life, and the four domestic and social free- doms. The Axis nations will fall because our men who landed at Ireland and at North Africa have only one thing in mind : we came, we will fight, and we will win victory. Victory will bs won by our fighting heroes because they are fight- ing to preserve freedom in God ' s almighty way. SENIOR CLASS NOTES {Continued jrom Page 5) John Billings, of the U. S. Army Air Force, who started his career as consulting engineer, lock- smith, and electrical genius at the approximate age of four. As a gesture of magnanimity, the Army and Navy have graciously allowed the re- maining members of this class of military and naval genius to finish their secondary education. A few typical reserve officers of the senior class are John Wilder. S. H. S. king of the slide rule, who plans on His Majesty ' s Royal Navy; Bob Hendrickson, five-place logarithm operator, who prefers the Coast Guard; Jerome Walsh, World War 1 strategist, who favors the Marines; and Pat Butler, the raconteur of the physics lab, who, strangely enough, likes the Army. All in all, the senior class of 1943 has proved itself the best endowed with all- ' round genius of any such class heretofore established. THE VALUE OF A LIBERAL EDUCATION TODAY {Continued jrom Page 12 How can we expect to win the next peace per- manently unless through men of this type? I do not speak of the chemist or the physicist iso- lated in his laboratory, nor the scholar hidden in his books, nor the idle, polished, college gradu- ate, but of a happy mean — a man versed in man ' s and nature ' s laws alike. If the educators of this country, and of the world, can realize the tre- mendous need for men of this caliber, the next generation will be infinitely better prepared to meet the problems of the post-war world. » Sign in a fruit store window: Fine apples. Buy now. Remember the early bird gets the worm. » A woman rushed into an elevator on the first floor and asked, Is this car going up? No, Madam, replied the operator, this is a cross-town car. » He: Let ' s get married. She: Good Lord! Who ' ll have us?

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13 THE SNIPER Theodore Holland, ' 44 IT was a da late in February and a lang of spring; was in the air. The slock was all fed and watered; so I had the remainder of the day to myself. What to do? I could fix the two flats on my tractor, or 1 might start overhaul- ing the various farm implements that I would soon be using. I discarded both these ideas as they would require far more |)atience and physical exertion than I felt up to at the time. Mournfully 1 reached for my rifle and headed for the tall timber, my only retreat at a time like this. I wandered for hours, aimlessly, drinking in the warmth and beauty of the early spiing sunshine. Then my progress was rudely obstructed by a high wire fence! How can this be? I said to myself. Who could have pur- chased this land? So I followed the barrier until the opportunity arose to creep under it, which I did without hesi- tation. I continued my stroll, stopping now and then to rest myself, as it was becom- ing quite warm. During one of these pauses, I felt a bee buzz by my head and land on a nearby pine. That ' s strange, I thought, a bee this early? Then I heard another and another. I looked on the bark of the tree, but found only a few woodpecker holes into which the bees must have crawled. As I peered into one of these holes. I felt another bee whizz by my head. Upon exami- nation I found another woodpecker hole and no bee. It struck me suddenly that someone was shooting at me, and I found myself on one of the topmost branches of the pine before I could decide what to do about it. From my perch I had a splendid view of the countryside round about. 1 saw several men, dressed strangely alike, shooting in the general direction of a group of targets about one hun- dred feet from them and situated between the muzzles of their guns and me. I concluded from this surveillance that they were target shooting. I also deduced that these men were Marines, and that the high fence I had met was the boundarv of the Hingham Arsenal, which had been re- cently expanded. I watched the activities of these Marines through the telescope sight of my gun and was surprised to see them all suddenly fling them- selves prone on the ground and turn their guns in my general direction. They must have been frightened by something in my vicinity. I peered around to see what it was, but I could see nothing out of the ordinary. Then the Marine who was obviously in charge crept cautiously to the barrack at one side of the field and returned with a long, round some- thiTig which proved to be a 30-calibre machine gun. After it was set up, he rose and swept my tree with a pair of binoculars. I grinned and waved at him and was pleased to see him grin

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15 TERRY Anne McKenzie, ' 46 TE H ledhea ERRY was is mother and father were Irish, and he was a typ- ical son of old Erin. He was happy-j; luck) , cr good- natured and frietidly, but like a true Irishman he never backed away from a fight. When he was about two months old. it became neces- sary for him to leave his family and make his home with new but loving parents. At first he was very lone- some and missed his brothers and sisters so much that all night he would keep the en- tire household awake with his cr) ing. But his new par- ents were very understanding and patient with him. When he was just so unhappy that he couldn ' t stand it another minute, they would get him some warm milk. On rare occasions they would even take him into bed with them and talk to him until he was happy and contented again. Terry ' s new mother sang in the village choir, and every Sunday before church when she was rehearsing, Terry and his dad would get into the car and ride out into the country where they would go for long walks in the woods. Terry ' s education in woodlore started very early. His dad taught him everything about trails and paths in the forest. Terry soon learned that although bees were very cute and sounded very funny when they buzzed, they should be left severely alone, because they carried a nastv little dagger that made him cry whenever he felt it. He learned all about the birds in the forest too — that they could disappear in the bushes and no one could find them unless it was a dog just trained to point and scent birds. Many, many hours were spent by Terry and his dad learning just how a little dog would go about the job of pointing birds. And it was really a very good idea, and well worth while because, you see, Terry was a little Irish setter. OUR FLAG Gilbert Patterson, ' 43 In a world of trouble, torment, and tears. There is one thing that may reduce our fears, The thought of our flag — Red, White, and Blue, That stands for democracy and freedom too. It waves on high from coast to coast. Salute it daily, give it a toast. Its sparkling colors shall always be Remembered from the Pacific to Germany. THE WITCH Forbes McLean, ' 46 High on her broomstick she does ride. With the very devil at her side. She spreads destruction far beneath. As she mutters chants between her teeth. Atop the tempest she shrieks her curse, For she is evil at its worst. Her black cat sneers with yellow eyes, As o ' er the paths, the broomstick flies. She thrives on lightning; she hides by fire. And her flames of hate go higher and higher. Her very wish is the voice of doom, As she glides away upon her broom.