Soldan High School - Scrip Yearbook (St Louis, MO)

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.,-,K-1--.,f - -3-W' YQ, -1 ,fag - A ' 5-1--1gL:, -g-3' -rff-Y-'-T37 cottage he had learned to love. Well, we'll be men-Americans, any- way-even though we can't enjoygour Christmas at home. Let us pray to the Almighty that we may be home for the next Christmas that comes around. The sound of marching feet came from without. A gruff voice called a command. The door opened. A German officer and two pri- vates entered. The oflicer glanced at Fritz. Your prisoner? Yes, sir, answered Fritz. Leg shattered. A cold chill shot through Scotty. He turned to the window wearily and a sense of hopelessness came over him. Bring him out! commanded the officer sharply. Fritz protested in German, pointing to Scotty's bandaged leg. The officer smiled ironically. Bring him out! he snapped, speaking to the two soldiers who had entered with him. Then to Fritz: Our division is to withdraw at once. Our movements cannot be hampered with prisoners. Orders have been issued to shoot all captured men. You will immediately carry out this command. Shoot your prisoner! Fritz stood motionless. The command was not repeated. Slowly the officer drew an automatic, then lifting his arm and directing it at the American, he grunted, You die. Scotty understood now, but was helpless. Shoot, you-coward! he hissed, clenching his teeth and looking steadily into the muzzle of the revolver. But partly through love and partly through anger, Fritz interposed, arresting the ofI'icer's arm. A struggle ensued. The two soldiers holding Scotty dropped him and rushed upon Fritz who sank down, bayoneted by a fellow-soldier. Scotty's eyes blazed with hatred. He cursed and groaned as he dragged himself io his feet. The bandages about the wounded leg turned bright crimson. He clenched his teeth and hopped forward. To sink his lingers into the throat of that fiend! But to once feel the hot blood of this creature warm his hands and he would be content to die. His opponent did not hesitate, but calmly raised his gun and shot into Scotty's body. The body wavered for an instant, then crumpled up in a heap on the ground. In a little one-street town in Missouri, Scotty's mother called the little family to the Christmas dinner. When they had bowed their heads, she prayed- Oh, great and merciful Father, we thank Thee for these blessings, May Thy will be done on earth as it is in Heaven. -Harold F. Lee, 7. 17

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The man caught his hand warmly and noticing that Scotty's pulse was growing jerky and feverish, took a field kit from his pack, selected a hypodermic needle and began cleaning it. So you're one of those adventurous Americans, not satisfied with your own country, over here fighting for a foreign government. Fritz smiled good-naturedly as he said this, and going over to the cot, injected the opiate into Scotty's arm. H-m-m! Why, you must not be much over twenty-one or two, are you ? Scotty shook his head. He did not care to talk much. In a few moments the soothing effect of the narcotic deadened his pain-then he told the whole story. He was like a child now, a very small child. It did his heart good to tell all that was pent up. It was the first time he had ever confided his story to anyone, and when he had finished there were tears in the eyes of the other. All through the following night Scotty dreamed-half delirious, and several times the German was awak- ened by Scotty's: Oh, Clara! Tell me it's a lie, Clara-a lie, a lie, a lie ! Once toward morning, the German injected more morphineg then he slept heavily until daybreak. The gray light of the dawn crept in through the window of a cabin in a devastated part of Flanders and touched the eyelids of one Scotty Blake, of the Third Canadian Reserves. Scotty awoke to find a strong aroma of coffee filling the room. This refreshed him somewhat, but he was very weak, and the blood-soaked bandages were oppressive. He saw his newly-made friend leaning over a small fire boiling coffee in a pan. The German turned, and smiled when he saw his prisoner was awake. This will brace you up, he promised, shifting his position by the i-ire so that he might see Scotty. Do you know there is something about a day like this that reminds me of Missouri? I don't know whether it is the snap in the air or just the cold, gray look everything has. Say, returned Scotty, that was just exactly what I was thinking as I looked out there. Coincidence, isn't it? How I remember those winter days! Wait a minute-1et's see-twenty-second, twenty-third, twenty- fourth-by George,-Merry Christmas! To-day's Christmas-this is Christmas morning! The German stepped over to the cot and grasped Scotty's hand. Scotty thought for a moment. Yep, you're right-it's Christmas morning, his forced smile quickly vanishing. I wonder what they're doing back home right now! I suspect they're all sitting about the Christmas tree giving out the presents. There was a catch in his voice as he said this and he turned his face down to the cot. The German turned to the window and stared out across the plain. He said nothing. He, too, was thinking of Missouri, and a snow-covered 16

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AII's Well That Ends Well HE door bell of Mr. Cecil Thomas, who, in the vernacular of a Frenchman, would be termed a bourgeois of London, gave a shrill and sudden sound. It was that young Amer- ican, as he was usually referred to, and rather 'Q contemptuously, by Mr. Thomas. Jimmie Bacon was lead- ing a life of experiment, and for the past year he had been engaged in the pleasant business of trying to convince a London magazine that James Bacon stories were really unusual, and that any publisher with common sense ought to appreciate the fact and accept them. And it was some job! Mr. T homasis pretty daughter, Barbara, opened the door, for she knew only too well who it was. Bacon had come to make his customary Sunday evening call on her, and this evening he was all joy, hilarity, ecstasy. And this same evening Barbara felt exactly the opposite. Well, Jimmie, she said in affected cheerfulness you look as if you had just been presented with a hundred thousand pounds! What makes you so happy? - Rejoice, Bobby, and be exceedingly glad, for my most marvelous and phenomenal story-the one I read you last Wednesday-has been accepted, bought, and paid for! I'm so glad, was her abbreviated reply. Then she led him into the drawing room, indicated a seat for him, hesitated, and finally took a seat directly opposite her fiance. Jimmie went on enthusiastically, half sarcastic, half serious: Yes, Bobby, the dawn of my glorious future is before me! I'm working on a big idea now. It is entitled 'Professional Loafers! When that's taken we will-well-we won't have to wait any longer. I'm- Barbara was ready to talk now, and she was waiting for the oppor- tunity. Her countenance reflected stern resolution. However, Jimmie's exuberant enthusiasm could hardly be checked at this juncture. 'Tm almost certain, he continued, that within two months I will have earned enough money to buy a marriage license, Bobby! Then, more seriously, But really, Bobby, if Dame Fortune smiles on me a little, we will be married before Christmas. But what has gone wrong with you to-night? Are you feeling well, Bobby? Oh, yes-I'm quite well. Jimmie, I have something--I wanted 7! nf' ': 1 ' ., wi f . 'F' My ls 1 f rf f ' 4 ry t0- By Jove! I know what you want. War! That's the topic! Well, I have some good news for you. The French have stopped the Germans' march on Paris. I tell you when Von Hindenburg puts one over on old man Joffre, I'll eat my head! I guess Willie Hohenzollern can't cele- brate Sedan Day in Paris as he expected to. Too bad! Billy must be awfully upset. But if he'd take my advice he wouldn't expect any more triumphal marches into Paris. The days of 1870 have passed. 18