St Thomas More High School - Utopian Yearbook (Philadelphia, PA)

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. . I 66 UST TAKE a look at him, you might think he was the only one in the school who could swim, said Luke. Worst of it is, he is-at least, the way he does it, Luke continued glumly, contradicting himself. Three other voices, equally glum, agreed with a sad, Yeah! The four school chums were standing by the side of the indoor pool. It was the pride and joy of Washington High. They saw Tommy Phillips streaking through the water like a Hsh, out-distancing all the others. It was the annual swim-meet between Washington High and their arch-rival, St. George's High, who was now trail- ing way behind in points. They watched with mixed emotions. Their school spirit finally over- came their dislike of Phillips, who was hardly the shrinking violet type. He was the best all- round athlete of the school and made certain that everyone knew it. He was a walking self- publicity department. The boys cheered, but they did so only because the school had won. As usual, he wins, said Dan to the rest of the fellows. Did you ever see him lose at anything?', asked Bill. I know I never did. He has already won the five events he was in. I'm not jealousg it's just that he's so conceited about it. What can you do with a guy like that. He's good. He knows it. But, holy cow, what a stinking snob he is. Yeah, as usual he wins, said Little Lou, who was always repeating somebody, and this makes his sixth. Little Lou was the only freshman among them, the rest were seniors. Sounds like they're teaching math to the Frosh this year, Dan remarked. The four boys watched Tommy receive his trophy from the judges, then they turned away and walked back to the locker room. Tom- my came in a few minutes later. Upon seeing them he smiled and said, Won't these amateurs ever learn that they can't match wits with a professional, indicating himself. After we THE CHELSEA REVIEW . BY FREDERICK F. FILBERG, '53 leave, how about coming over to my place for some ping-pong? Maybe one of you could heat me at that. Tommy's sarcasm was like a lash as he whipped their feelings raw. The boys were stunned. They looked at one another in astonishment. How could anyone be so utterly swell-headed? 'It's become such a habit, our losing, that it doesn't bother us anymore, said Luke grimly. The others grinned, appreciating Luke's timely touche to the fullest. Tommy's face fell. He saw his barbed remark missed its target. For the moment, he was speechless. For the boys, it was a moment to treasure. At that, Little Lou spoke up and remarked, 'ilust once l'd like to see you lose, and l'd surely laugh my head off. Well, you can't laugh oil what you don't have, you little punk, and that includes the rest of you, said Tommy scornfully. Maybe if you'd go out for a few things yourselves, you wouldnlt have time to be jealous of my wins. Guess if I lost, I'd be a great guy, eh? l'd be in your class then. You'd like that wouldn't you? A Sorry, Tommy, we wouldn't be able to come over anyway, said Luke, because my brother, Frank, is bringing home a friend from college for a few days. He's coming over here first, though. Maybe we'll have more time to enjoy our laugh later on! Luke little realized how soon that moment would come. Don't bother givin' him a reason for not going to his house. I wouldn't be caught dead there, Bill said. '4Come on, let's go. With that, all four turned their heads to- wards the two young men who had noiselessly entered by the gym door and were walking to- ward them. Their faces brightened up consid- erably as they recognized Frank Brannon, Luke's older brother. Obviously, their arrival was a welcome break in the strained atmosphere. Sparks were flying in all directions and could ignite into anything, unpleasant to be sure, in a jiify. ..69

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launch went down the side, hitting the bright blue water with an audible thud. The frogmen then appeared on the deck garbed only in a pair of swimming trunks, a face plate, an oxygen mask, oxygen tanks, which were strapped on their backs, and a dagger. The sacks of dynamite were being carefully lowered into the boat. The Commander appeared on deck with Waterman. The Captain wished them good luck and returned to his bridge. Got it, Bill? You leave in five minutes at 0755. Take your boat through Green Gong. It'll be back at 0915. That'll give you twenty- five minutes for swimming to and from shore and forty-five minutes to set the stuff. Take it easy and good luck. The Commander climbed down the rope ladder into his boat. The lines were cast off and the boat sped away. Spray spread over the sides, and stung the skin of the men so severely that they were forced to crouch. A strip of land came into view at the horizon. It loomed larger as the small craft hurried toward it. They could see explosions on the island now as the big ships unleashed their fury. They were only five hundred yards from shore when Japanese shore batteries began to fire upon them. The Com- mander stuck his head up to see where Water- man's launch was, but a nearby burst sent him into his crouching position once more. Want a Chiclet? The Commander couldn't see in the crowded boat who offered it to him, but he took one anyhow. They were only three hundred yards from the beach when the motor launch swerved suddenly making her course parallel to the beach. The Commander sat up and prodded some men. Mermaid Two Team, check out! Dutch's team stood on the side of the boat as the men, one by one, slid on to a rubber raft, which had previously been lowered and strap- ped to the side of the launch. From there, they rolled over into the swiftly passing water. A'Mermaid Three, check out! The same procedure followed as Pop's team left. Mermaid One Team, let's go! The Commander's body felt as though he had fallen from a fast freight onto a gravel road. The water swirled about his head, and his eyes 68.. saw only a mixture of bluish-green water with passing air bubbles. His lungs gasped for air. He fought his way to the surface. After what seemed an eternity, his head broke water, and he drew in deep breaths of air. He watched the other men just passing over the side. There were Doubleday, Dial, Gardner . . . An explosion sent the Commander back beneath the waves. When he arose, he immedi- ately looked for the boat. Oh no! No! What once had been an elusive motor launch was nothing more than a rubble of wood, metal, and flesh. There were still some packs of TNT on board before the explosion. He swam over to the wreckage, and saw two heads swim- ming toward him. There. Who are you? Two frightened young sailors swam to the Commander. They were breathing fast. One had blood dripping from his forehead. Doubleday - and Dial - sir. 4'See anybody else? I-saw-Gardner go-under. I-couldn't -get to him-in time. Okay, Dial, let's head for the beach. We got work to do. 6'Sir, we won't have time to set charges and to set fuses, too. The Commander stared at Doubleday. He was right. Three men were to set the charges, and two were to set the fuses. They needed more men if they were to set time fuses. But the time fuses were with Craver, who was killed on the boat. Yet the area had to be cleared because the Marines' main force was to land at Blue Bell. He had to explode the charges somehow. He looked at the two men and spoke softly, Take care of the charges. P11 set the fuses. Let's gof' They put on their masks, and began to breathe the oxygen from the tanks on their backs. They swam for the beach. Soon they came upon a group of concrete blocks, which were only a few inches beneath the surface of the water. Doubleday and Dial set the charges while the Commander tended to the fuses. The mo- ments dragged. When they had finished almost all of their sector, the Commander gave them the signal to surface fContinued on page 731 . . THE CHELSEA REVIEW

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Sensing the tenseness of the moment, Frank breezed into the group calling out a cheery- Hi, Luke--fellows. I want you to meet a good friend of mine-Arthur Kelly. Art, you now are looking at the hope for the future, properly branded by good old Washington High. Don't examine them too closely, he warned in the loudest of stage whispers, they're not pedi- greed stockf' You can say that again, Frank, and louder. The pedigreed-bull--is to the rear, Dan said heatedly. '5Sorry, Mr. Kelly, nice to know you. Same here, the other boys intoned. Art Kelly chose to pass over Dan's caustic remark without comment. Come on, guys, can that 'Mr.', what am I, a grey beard? Art's the name. Glad to meet you fellows--in spite of Frank's recommendation. And you, too-Bull -bowing to Tommy. But Tommy was in no mood for a gracious reaction to Kelly's humor. He scowled at him. Wise guy, he muttered aloud, folding his arms across his bare chest. Sorry, no oH'ense intended, I was just kidding. Tommy, thinking over the awkwardness of the situation and realizing how awkward, too, the two visitors must feel, nodded an acceptance of Kelly's apology. Even he felt the sincerity of the cleancut, virile college senior. He just wasn't the wise-guy type, and Tommy knew it, as he stood behind the other boys who were sizing Kelly up. He grudgingly admitted to himself that Kelly measured up to all the requirements of a fellow who knew how to handle himself. He was a big man, yet not with an out-door kind of bigness. Broad shoulders, trim waist, well- built and lithe, tall and good-featured, about twenty-two, they thought. His handshake was vigorously firm. Little Lou winced at his turn. Gosh, he said, shaking his hand to stimulate the circulation, gosh, he repeated, looking with frank admiration at Kelly. Tommy relaxed and joined the group. What's this? Frank asked, glancing in Tommy's direction and seeing that he was still in his trunks. Swimming meet? Who won? We did, the boys chorused. They mean-I did, Tommy corrected. Well, ah, when you win, you win for every- body here, don t you? Kelly inquired. I guess so, but I don't get that 'we' stuff. 70. They couldn't win a prize in a crackerjack box. How about you? You look as though you should be interested in sports. You're older, too. These guys think that I can win only in my own age- class. I'll beat anybody that plays my game- anybody, do you hear? He turned and faced his fellow-student, his face contorted and his voice shrill with anger. Take it easy, fella, Kelly said. You don't have to prove you're a champ, just-be one. Well, I am one, see. But it seems that I got to prove it every time to these weak sisters. Look at them. They don't have enough wind to blow a football up. Tommy was beside himself, venting in one outburst all his resentment of their treatment of him. He hadn't planned this. He knew that he gave his hand away. Now he was more furious with himself because he had revealed how much their coolness had bothered him. Hoping to save face, he gave his attention to Art Kelly and asked him what sports he was interested in. Oh, I like most sports. Play a little of each in season, I guess, he said quietly. Nice big gym you have here, he continued, endeavoring to change the subject. Play tennis? Tommy persisted. I know it's not in season, but we have a good court in the gym here. Want to-beat-me tomorrow and make your friend's friends and relative happy and contented? How about over here tomorrow after school. I understand you're going to be around for a couple of days. What d'you say? O.K., Tommy, Art said. Maybe you can teach me a couple new plays. I'm always willing to learn, you know. It's a date then, Tommy stated. You're all invited to be present at this match. Bring your cryin' towels with you, you'll look more at home. He slapped his towel tightly around his neck and glared at his school mates. Then without another word, he turned on his heels and went into the showers. Kelly whistled softly, Quite a boy and very temperamental, too. The boys chuckled as they discussed Tom- my's violent reaction. Never figured I'd ever see old sure-foot off balance. Boy, did you see his face? Luke asked the group. Yeah, Bill agreed, his gander was really . . THE CHELSEA REVIEW