Scituate High School - Chimes Yearbook (Scituate, MA)

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19 TO MARKET TO MARKET Virginia Hefjei nan, ' 44 riundrtds of women milliii}; arotmd All on the very same enand bound. Tall, short, fat and thin. Today at ten the meat tomes in. They ' re waiting for the meat! With the passing hours grund)lings are heard As the c rowd await the sounds of the word. Suddenly a shout rises above the din The call is heard, The meat is in! Friendship ' s forgotten, politeness is gone. The main thought is to get waited upon! Give me some pork chops! I want some beef! I don ' t care what I get — just give me some meat! The meat ' s going! After pushing, pulling and jostling about Some desperate ones find themselves left out. They turn to get fish, which they really scorn For they must eat, and the meat is gone! BY THE DAWN ' S EARLY LIGHT Joan Rouleau, ' 43 It was a biting cold day in February, in the early morning to be exact, when we started for our destination. Our car finally stopped in a dark alley, so dark that we were forced to pick our way csu- liously across the intersections and narrow streets, which were still slippery and wet from the dew. Others chose to ride all the way to this destination, crowding and jamming traffic in a deadend street — but then this was no time to think of traffic regulations. The screech of brakes, the toot of horns — these were the only audible sounds in that somber darkness which held r.n equally somber signifi- cance. Leaving the car, members of m) party stood by a telephone pole, looking up at a tall stone build- inn; Avith long narrow windows, which seemed so forbidding then that it reminded me of a prison in the days of the French Revolution. Gradually a sharp wind started up. To avoid it we stepped back into an enclosure which ap- peared to be a garage entrance, but even here we had to be on the watch for excited drivers backing up carelessly. People kept coming and standing in groups around that building — boys for the most part, from eighteen to twenty years of age. Some Stood with their parents, some wiih their girls, and some, alone. Here and there a match flared up, and then only could 1 discern the expressioirs ol imj)atience and uncertainty on the faces of these bo)s, who gradually drifted up the front stairs and through a heavy door, a door which seemed to be leading them to another world where they might expect almost anything. A low sobbing drew my attention to a small grey-haired woman who was staring across the street, watching the big door open and close. She lighted a cigarette which she puffed at nervously, and when this was gone, she lighted another and another. Another car parked beside the curb and an- other mother was left in tears; and I tried to multiply the grief of this comparatively small gathering by that of the millions all over the world. Then a member of our party made his fare- wells, and anxiously started across the street and up the stairs to the door, where he turned to wave again, opened the door, and disappeared. By this time streaks of red appeared in the sky — the dawn of a new day, and the dawn of a new life for that group of Air Corps Cadets who were leaving the Armory that memorable morn- ing. THE SERVICE STARS Ted Dunne, ' 45 No stars that shine up in the skies Can shine so brightly in my eyes As those which hang in our window panes On traveled roads or country lanes, In stillness — for the boys away In every land and distant bay On every field and distant sea Fighting — to bring home Victory. THE MOST UNFORGETTABLE CHARACTER I HAVE EVER MET {Continued from Page 16) Yeah, I know, he replied calmly. Well, I ' ll see ya. He popped into the side of the building. Sure, so long, Star, I answered to the blank wall, as I dashed along. When I finally realized I had no reason for running, I slowed down and joined a crowd occupied in looking up at the top of a near-by building.

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18 ers. They also had to oversee the two hours of evening work, and to keep order in the dormi- tories. Naturally there were popular and un- popular prefects as some would be strict and some easy. I remember one time when a boy was given three strokes for talking to the boy behind him in class. Speaking of strokes, the only person who was allowed to give the stick was the head- master. He certainly didn ' t lack practice, for in the thirty-two years that he was there he gave an average of six strokes a day. I remember one day when he gave a total of a hundred and ten strokes to different boys. Besides being our head-master, he was also a J. P. (a Justice of the peace), in the city of Ely. He always used to give us the choice of paying for a broken win- dow or having the stick, his penalty being usu- ally five strokes. In the two and a half very enjoyable years which I have spent in America, I have found that the schools present the most striking contrast in the lives of the two countries. ONE IN A THOUSAND Roger Zollin, ' 44 The reason, Dacey, that I ' m sending only one plane is that I think that in this case one plane will have more of a chance of completing the job and returning than a whole squadron would. Flight Officer Kennedy of the U. S. Aircraft Carrier Astoria was speaking to a tall, lanky pilot wearing the uniform of a U. S. Marine. I understand that fully. Sir. Your chances of returning, went on Ken- nedy, are one in a thousand. The enemy cruiser which is moving toward us is the newest type that the Japs are building. If it gets close enough, this carrier will be done for. If it ' s possible for you to drop the bomb that ' s stowed on your plane squarely, that cruiser will be blown sky high. The bomb is of a new type, two hundred times as deadly as anything we ' ve got yet. All the charts and data that you ' ll need are here on this table. You take off in ten minutes. Good luck, bud, and God be with you. With that Kennedy turned and strode from the room. Pilot Dacey looked after him; then he turned and began studying the charts which lay before him. He made several notations in his note book, gathered up several of the charts, and walked out to the flight deck. Before him stood rows of mighty planes, all stored neatly so as to conserve space. Slowly he walked down the deck to the foremost plane, the motor of which was turning over slowly. Climbing into the cock- pit, he put his charts in their case and fastened his helmet. Glancing across the deck, he saw the signal flashed for him to take off. Checking his instruments, he waved away the mechanics and slowly slid the throttle forward. The mighty plane seemed to take on new life as the motor roared. He began moving slowly at first, but rapidly gaining speed, he raced down the deck. Swiftly the end of the carrier moved up to meet him; then suddenly it was gone. Rising quickly in tight spirals, he climbed high into the air. When the carrier was a mere dot on the surface, he banked to the west and sped on his mission. One hour passed and then two, and slowly far away he spotted the enemy cruiser, a dot on the surface, moving slowly in the direction from which he had come. Ducking behind a friendly cloud bank, he flew on unseen. When he again emerged from the clouds, he had banked around and was moving in the same direction as the cruiser. Gripping his controls tightly, he pushed them forward slowly until the cross-chains of his dive-sight split the tarket. Down, down his plane plunged with the propeller screaming like a thousand unleashed demons. Suddenly dirty black puffs of smoke began bursting all around him, as the Japs, now fully aware of the danger, sent shells rushing skyward to welcome the on- rushing plane. Oblivious of the deadly fire, Dacey never wa- vered. Increasing air pressure gripped his throat, wrists, and heaving chest in a vain at- tempt to crush the life from his body, but the enemy cruiser remained fixed in his sights. Larger, larger it grew — closer and closer it came with each lingering second — expanding like some evil monster until suddenly its massive form seemed to fill the cramped cockpit. Swiftly Dacey ' s hand moved to the bomb release and the plane, its lethal load of death released, swerved upward in a shrieking arc. A moment of agonizing suspense — then the huge steel mon- ster was gripped by an expanding mass of dense black smoke and flames. Without lingering to watch the sea drag the stricken ship down into its depths, the plane climbed back into the sheltering clouds and dis- appeared. Then turning. Dacey sped swiftly toward his rendezvous with the carrier, his task completed.

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20 ONE THOUSAND SQUARE FEET Maria Mansfield, ' 43 One potato has 500 calories, three carrots equal one and one-fourth onions, fertilizer at one dollar per fifty pounds, three hours at 60 , carry one, drop the remainder and multiply by three equals — one wonderful headache for Mr. Ransidd and three jars of string-beans for Mrs. Ransidd. The front yard was undoubtedly the best place for the garden, Mrs. Ransidd decided, and then she told Mr. R. He agreed readily after he had picked himself out of the corner for the third time, and set to work making his plans for the Great Ransidd Victory Garden. But the Ransidd front yard was quite a little short of 1000 square feet; so the only thing that could be done was to remove the front porch. When this was done, a slight job that required three Mack trucks and a steamshovel, the front of the house sagged three feet and Adlibb, the family cat, had been deprived of her hiding place. Mrs. R. had firmly believed that the beautiful elm trees in front of the house would be an addi- tion to the garden, giving not only life to the plants but also shade to the industrious farmer. She found out. however, from a gardening ad- viser (three hours on Sunday, double time, $18.76) that the trees would be anything but a help. Mr. Ransidd suggested they hire some men to cut the trees down, but looking at Mrs. Ransidd ' s determined chin I and fist ) , decided that he could do it in the afternoon, after the office. Sweetie. The next day Mr. R., armed with a Boy Scout hatchet sharpened for him by his better three- quarters, attacked the larger of the two elms. About eight o ' clock that night he had succeeded in practically chopping it down. Hearing the ominous crackling noise which heralds the felling of a tree, he ran for cover. As he picked him- self out of the stone wall, he saw the large tree fall against the other. Then both of them fell on top of the house, and the chimney was no more. Well, that job ' s done, Mr. R. said, and walked into the so-called house, leaving Mrs. R., for once, speechless. Now the land was all cleared; nothing was left to be done but to dig the ground and plant the seed. Mr. R. called the best contractor in town and asked for his price to dig up and culti- vate the land. The contractor ' s vice-president in charge of earth-worms answered the phone and said in a surprised voice, Are you kiddin ' , Bub? Every contractor in town is doing war work. Get a horse! And Mr. R. found this was true. He couldn ' t get anyone to dig the garden for him; so he went to his wife and said, Sweetie, that settles it; I positively can and will not dig up the garden myself. The next day as he was digging up the garden with a spade, he made a discovery. When the contractors had built the house, they had used the refuse — concrete, old lumber, paint buckets and rags — as filling for the lawn. Then they had put earth over it, and no one knew of the buried treasure of 1189 Grove. No doubt this was a Godsend at the time to the contractors but it was not exactly helpful to the R ' s. Mr. R. carried everything over to his neighbor ' s woods, everything that is, except the body of a 1917 Ford. Mr. and Mrs. thought it was a brilliant idea to leave it in the garden and plant squash vines over it. After the hole in the front yard was filled with crushed diamonds and powdered rubies sold under the name of loam. the plant- ing started. The usual things happened: too much sun, too little ditto; too much rain, too little ditto; neg- lecting to take off the paper package before put- ling the seeds in; dogs and chickens, insects and rust, all had their little fun; and of course every- thing came up one-half the size of the pictures in the catalogue. But the one thing that flour- ished was the Ford ' 17 a la squash. It really was a majestic sight; its vines and tendrils spread all over the garden, and everything else was under its shadow. Neighbors gathered around to see the large green mound with the yellow blossoms. In fact, the block warden happened to be passing by one day and noticed the wrecked car. Ah, ha, he said ( to himself of course, no one ever really says ah, ha ) . This will raise our scrap to our quota of 300 tons. Mr. Ransidd, I ' m afraid you ' ll have to sacrifice your squash vines so that we can have that car body. When they came to take the car away, the vines of course had to be ripped up, and with them came practically the whole garden, except some hardy spinach plants. There was a dead silence in the R. household on the farming subject until one day Mrs. R. said, Terbuncle, dear, don ' t you think it would be nice if we raised a few chickens and a pig? » » Golfer: Well, after a round with me. how do you like my game? Caddy: It ' s okay. I guess, but I still prefer golf.