St Matthews High School - Samascript Yearbook (Conshohocken, PA)

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A Letter From a Rookie Dear Mary: A bugle blowing off in the distance awakened me rudely my first day in camp. Our detachment had arrived at Camp Meade at 10: JO p.m. After the commanding officer had given us a short talk, we were taken to the mess hall to rest up after the trip. Our meal consisted of coffee, ham, mashed potatoes, spinach, corn-starch pudding, and the old army stand-by, baked beans. You have to learn to like them or you do not really belong. After our snack we were conducted to temporary barracks, where we slept on army cots. My toes stuck out and were cold until the fellow across from me began to snore and blow his breath on them. I was hardly asleep when I was awakened by the noise that was going to be my daily alarm clock, the bugle. Our detachment was lined up for roll call. It was then that we met the idol of the buck privates, yes, the top sergeant. After roll call we took a shower, and well army soap is surely different from the soap Mom supplies at home. About seven o'clock we had breakfast and spent the rest of the day walking around the camp. In the evening the rookies went to the recreation hall to meet the rest of their company. The whole camp retired about 10: JO. The next morning it happened again—yes—the bugle blew at the awful hour of 6: JO, and we got up. When I think of how Mom always called me five times before I even stirred, I am filled with remorse. We had a fine breakfast and a dinner that wasn't so bad even if we did have beans again. We were then ordered to report to the classification room where we were asked all general information. Then came the much publicized ordeal of giving out uniforms. It wasn't half so bad as the movies make it. The sergeant asked me what size shoes I wore. I replied, “Nine.” He said, Don't worry, twinkle toes, your feet will swell. Take these elevens.” I received the rest of my uniform and reported back to barracks. Here we were shown the little space into which we were supposed to stow our clothes. I didn't think it was possible but soon found that it had to be, or ten hours of “K.P. duty would await me. The following morning we had inspection of barracks and lockers. It would take an army engineer months to fit my uniform into the space allotted to it in my locker. Well, I am no engineer, and I was again threatened with K.P. duty because a shirt was out of place. After a hard struggle, I finally remembered some algebra. So, I just let X equal the shirt, Y, the locker, and N2, the sergeant. I factored X and Y and the sergeant squared the locker, and if you know how my outfit got into the space you're a genius. I hear Taps, so I’ll have to sign off. If you want to send me anything, don't send baked beans. Send a cork for the bugler's bugle. Well so-long, date bait, Bill Mary Anne Ryan, '42 William Johnson, '4J Sunset The sun sm s slowly over the purple hills; its rusty reflection gleams on the drab mills along the river; the water ripples past the old stone walls; fluffy white smo e. ris-ing from the chimneys of homes nearby, disappears into the tinted s y. Soon the streets echo to the footsteps of busy workers hastening home. Another day fades into the misty past. Merrill Jacobs, '42 THE MIRROR Four

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SENIOR CLASS Seated on ground (left to right) Margaret Anne Kehoe, Helen Gaynor, Mary Ryan, Dorothy Burns, Helen Maguire, Kathleen McCann, Margaret DeMarco, Elizabeth Lawless, Jane Fincran, Jeanne Malaspina. First Row Annabelle Cullen, Richard Bren-nen, Teresa O'Connor, Emanuel Kelly, Ella Marie Fondots secretary: James Stemple, president: Rita Irwin, treasurer: Harry Cas-scl, vice-president: Doris Reed, Joseph , Reilly, Annette Aigner. x Secorlxl Row—Mary Jane Smith, William Moran. Margaret Mary Kelly, Michael $a-boe, Helen Finerai Francis O'Neill, Anne Irwin, Donald Collins, Mary O'Connor. Th;rd Row George Handrcn, James Kccley, Marie Entcnman, Anne Whalen. James Kelly, Louis Moore, Elizabeth McDonnell, Jean McGrath, John Bolger, Charles Kelly. Fourth Row Francis McGuigan, Anne Pollard, William Casey, Margaret Mary Kehoe, Frederick Delaney, Sylvester Szmigicl, Raymond Craven, Edward Moore, Merrill Jacobs, Francis Daly. Francis Hoy, Mary Hasson, Joseph Shatter, Mary Reilly, William Delaney. Absent—Catherine McGuigan. The Old Mill A silvery stream flows past'the old saw'mill. Once this mill was erect and strong; now it stands weatherbeaten and wearyThe stones of its one'time sturdy walls are crumblirCg to dust, and the winds, li e silver chimes, ring through the empty compart-ments. The aged mill, however, is never lonely, for the birds nesting in its eaves chirp to it all day long, and the broo gliding past its door brings it greetings from the neighboring• countryside. Merrill Jacobs, '42 THE MIRROR Three

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Will O' The Wisp ' I 1 HERE was much talking and grumbling among the farmers from Limerick County i- when they met at the Market Place one day, for again they had been despoiled of their choicest wares before they could prepare them for market. Said Danny Casey, “Sure an’ 'twill be the ruination of me if somethin' can’t be done. 'Tis three weeks now and not a pat of butter have I had fit to bring to market.” “A whist to you and your butter, shouted miserly Will O'Connell. There are all me beautiful cows, with no more milk nor that cobble, and he kicked a loose stone with his boot. Tis a cryin’ shame, that's what 'tis; but mark me, I'll get to the bottom of this mischief, and when I find the 'spalpeens’ responsible, I’ll lather them within an inch of their lives. Sputtering in his great anger, Will stomped over to his now empty cart and started home. Much as the farmers disliked O’Connell, who was a miserly and begrudging man, they agreed that something should be done about the trouble. Said the Widow Burke, a kindly soul, 'Tis no youthful prank that causes such havoc amongst us; ’tis the ‘Little People’ tormentin' us and there is only one remedy for it. We must all lay out our choicest wares each night so the fairy folk will not ruin the rest of our goods seekin' it. Cries of aye, and tis right you are, were heard as the farmers agreed to the widows suggestion. One offered to leave his largest potatoes each night, another his finest cabbage; Mrs. Blake would give bread; Molly Blye, jelly, and so on till each had named his prize ware. Danny Casey was selected to inform O’Connell of the farmers’ decisions, so when he passed the O Connell farm, he stopped and told the still irate farmer of their plans. Plague take the tormentin’ elves and all their like, cried he. “ 'Tis nothin' more of mine they 11 get. Yourself may give if you will, not I. 'Tis a fine stout lock I have made for me cow shed, and come sundown the bossies will be safely locked away from all thievery.” THE MIRROR Five