Scituate High School - Chimes Yearbook (Scituate, MA)

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21 READY FOR ACTION Ethel Mollis, ' 44 BILL sat in liis fatlier ' s ollicc in ihc chair opposite his father ' s desk. Father and son sal firim and silent. Bill had just graduated from high school and like so many other young men of his day and age. he wanted most of all to join the armed forces of our country instead of continuing with his education. He had come to his father for advice. As they sat there, the older man ' s mind wan- dered back to a scene that had taken place ap- proximately twenty-five years ago. Twenty-five years is a long time, he pondered while looking at his son, the very picture of himself in his youth. He remembered his own feelings those years ago when our country was in a similar crisis. His thoughts carried him back through the years to a group of boys standing on the high school steps. The topic of conversation was their plans after graduation, the long-anticipated event which was to take place within a week. The first in the group to speak was Harry. Well, fellows, you can plan on seeing one less of the gang around after graduation, he said. Is that so? replied Pete. Do you mean that you ' re going to enlist? But you ' re not old enough. I know, the former answered, but I ' m sick of this town — no excitement or anything. At least if I could get into the Army, I ' d have plenty to do all the time. I got a letter this morning from my older brother and he expects to leave for France within a few days. I ' m not going to be left out. By the time we get drafted, the war will be all over! That ' s true, all right, but just how do you intend to enlist? They ' ll guess your age! ex- claimed Bill Hackett, one of the younger mem- bers of the group. Oh, you just leave that to me. Any of you fellows want to come along? Why hang around here when you could be doing your country a real favor by enlisting? Who said we ' re too young : But that would be against the law, one of the others argued. Well, isn ' t that just too bad? How about it. fellows, are you going to be sissies? You aren ' t afraid, are you? Yes, that was the way it had happened. One out of five boys thought he would be smart, and pretty soon he had the others thinking that they could be heroes in a short time. The day after graduation, three of the five visited a recruiting office and somehow managed to enroll in the United States Army, innocently signing up for many bitter experiences over which they would have no control. Bill ' s father chuckled as he recalled those days of training, — days when they had to get up with the birds and often times before them, and go marching, marching, marching with heavy packs on their backs; days when they tramped through mud, water and rain; and days when their feet almost cried out for rest. He remem- bered also humorous little events, such as the hours they spent with the sergeant who had hay fever and sneezed at the most absurd times. Then how could he ever forget the feeling in the pit of his stomach the day their boat pulled out of New York Harbor bound for France. How the crowd had shouted and cheered their farewells! Perhaps it was then, for the first time, that the three boys began feeling less elated by their venture. However, it was too late to give up then. No, they would have to go on, no matter what the outcome might be. The outcome was not pleasant. Bill was the only one of those young men to make the return trip. There were months of bitter fighting; there were days when they almost died of hunger; there were the endless hours of marching for which they had been preparing back in the States. How could he ever forget seeing those brave young men fall under enemy fire and his own feeling of insecurity, wondering if he would be next. Those who were not killed — but that was too dreadful to think about! Yes, he recalled all these things and many more. Still, how could he say that he was sorry for joining the services when he was too young. He had admitted to himself more than once that if he had a chance to re-live his life, undoubt- edly he would do exactly the same thing. Bill turned to his son and studied him thought- fully. What did he see there? A perfect speci- men of American youth. A perfect example of the type of young man that we see today in uni- form. He himself had had no father to turn to for advice in those days of the last war when he was a young man. What could he tell his young son? How could he advise him?

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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.

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22 Finally he spoke, Bill, my son, you know that Fve talked very little about my experiences in the last war, and you can imagine why, but I can ' t blame you for wanting to go. I can ' t tell you that the best thing for you to do would be to continue your education and to wait until you are called. I don ' t believe in telling you that it ' s your duty to go into the army, either. As I see it, the decision must be left entirely to you, as I think that you can be depended upon to choose wisely and to perform whatever duty you undertake faithfully and to the best of your ability. Two weeks later a little family stood in New York ' s Grand Central Station bravely saying their good-byes. The young man had made his decision. Like so many other young Americans of this genera- tion, he was going away to learn to be a soldier. Like so many other )oung men, he was ready to sacrifice everything, his life if necessary, for his family, friends, and country. Just as his father before him had gone away to fight, so was he going; and just as his father had returned unharmed, so might he return unharmed from the horrible clutches of war. FROM THE CLIFF Paul O ' Neil, ' 44 My house is situated on a high bluff, overlook- ing the cruel, proud North Atlantic Ocean. It is midwinter and everthing is covered with snow and ice. As I listen, I can hear the sea crashing against the ice on the shore. The gulls, high above me, are circling and veering in the open. Their pitiful shrieks can be heard the length of the cliff. They hover there above the storm waiting for scraps that the sea may wash in. In the distance a honking is heard. Looking to the North, I see in the distance the wild geese. They come in long, even, V-shaped rows. They are so majestic, it is hard to realize that there are those who would lie in wait to massacre them. But the leader is wary, and he leads his flock far offshore where, riding the crest of swirl- ing waves, they have a safe berth, safe, that is, from the range of the hunter ' s gun. A loud report is heard from the marsh. Mo- ments later a duck is seen flying out of the fen. He is seeking refuge far out in the cold raging ocean. As he flies out, you can hear him calling plaintively for his mate. But he will call in vain. His mate will never stir again. For this time the crafty hunter was rewarded. The hour is growing late and I turn homeward. Before I go, I turn and take one last look at the ocean. It seems to mock me as it comes crash- ing and booming on the rocks beneath. Generations pass, countries are changed. Great men come and go. But the sea always remains. It seems to say, I am eternal, as it comes charg- ing in, crashing, swirling and booming on the barren shore. A TYPICAL AMERICAN Barbara Allen, ' 43 Tom is just an ordinary guy Who ' s working for the LI. S. A.; He answered the call and said goodby Then started on his way. He finished his basic training And then he sailed away, Not knowing where he was going Until that certain day. Now he ' s stationed over there Fighting for folks back home; He knows they ' re waiting somewhere Over the sea of foam. He is a typical American Who has a job to do; And like a thousand other men He will see it through. Someday he ll be back again Back to the land of the free; The world will be at peace then And forever it shall be. » Louie: Say, what becomes of a football player when his eyesight fails him? Curtis: Why, they make a referee out of him. Pat was digging a well and had it down to a considerable depth when he fell in. Pat, Pat, called his wife, looking down, Is it dead you are? No, answered Pat, but I ' m entirely speech- less. American: We ' re becoming too cocky. What we need is a good licking. Englishman: Oh, yes, yes, indeed. American : But there ain ' t nobody can give us one.