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

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it 1 f IQ X 2 'fi W Neill' 1 93 ia. iii! .. A. . 'V ii . f 'lg 'if' d ll 5. gif' I? lil. 'L J 1 K 4 1 1? 'I P'-0:9 N, :J uxvlljgr ' 5, .Q . ff . . A 6,,, vx '.': Y Q' ' I 9 x f 3 'J' it F. j 4 , 'wi tw' ' 4 'v - H' vb - 42. - a 4 ' f. -4 4 c 5 'ex sl-.Q 1 .. a. I ml' ll ':l , 1 J V ' 0 AIA I 'I ,I 'z fv 15 ,. K' ,- '- -- 5 4' felis t I 1 ' x 5 'V .gi l I 5 . r 1 H 5 ' . . l 1,- 24 h 'I 'E' o E 1 0520. - . 4 Q -f-..... L af .A . -2 af Radm Alcoa! up . : 2 ,,'n'ti' :' l 2 f E 'ii - S ' u 1' - BY LAWRENCE HUNT '55 'mx Q x A Lx Jun ' ig rm' I F? , .: E '-- .X FN 'mn 2 ' I Q , '25 4 AAA N tg -A 'N Illustration by ALFRED PEPINO, '54 3 A ' ,i 3 .- V --f-'QW'- 1. . ' ri 5 V - ' 'E ah w Fl: The Hiroshima of the longbow was the ' 'xv' Ziff? l'--, A ., - Battle of Crecy in France, in the year, 1346. At 4 1 W. '. N . 've .-f' x -:ng -5 QQQQ' Crecy, a French army of forty-thousand men Q' NX, ,S . . 5' - ' .f N ' was crushed by an English invading force only ?i Q- , fx AN Q '- . , ' 'A ix A X half that large. This battle was one of the ' '-- Qfi:-L.,-'Q s MV, .. El ,N greatest military surprises in the history of - ul.. -A qi 5 M , ,14.f-GW' 55 warfare. ,sq E:-Q.-:' ... --4' ' A 5 fs ' Perma 'S' E SUALLY, WE seldom think of a bow and arrow as a weapon, rather, we think of it as a plaything. A bow and arrow can be used in various ways, but now most people use it for target shooting. However, it is used by sportsmen for hunting as well. Compared to our modern firearms, it is difficult to consider it a weapon at all. Today, it exists merely as a reminder of a rugged and romantic past. There was a time though, when the bow, very much like the one used in present-day archery, un- leashed a wave of terror among the people that was as terrifying to them at the time as the atomic bomb is to us. The dreaded weapon that opposing armies feared most in Robin Hood days was the English longbow. Seven hundred years ago, the bow made its first dramatic appearance in a battle. Over- night, this simple weapon, made of the wood of the yew tree and a piece of twine, changed England from a little unimportant island in the Atlantic into one of the mightiest powers in Europe. The event was as startling to the peo- ple of that time as the dropping of the atomic bomb on Hiroshima was to the inhabitants there. 86.. At the start of the battle, the French, as it turned out, had a shock coming to them. And what a devastating shock it turned out to be! It came when they made their first charge. In a great column, the French charged thunderingly toward the armor-clad knights in the center of the line. They gave no thought to the ranks of white-coated archers who were spread out on tl1e right and left. These poor fellows, it appeared, were armed with nothing more dan- gerous'than long sticks of some kind. They would be helpless against the heavy broads- woods and battle-axes. Only one or two of the French managed to reach the English lines, and they were promptly killed or captured. What stopped the mighty French charge was a swift and deadly swarm of arrows from the long- sticks of the English archers. With terrific force, these arrows drove through chain-mail and armor-plate. Every- where, French knights and horses were tumbling to earth. Those who were still in the saddle made one gallant charge after another. But each time, they were met with clouds of angrily buzzing arrows from which, it seemed, there was no escape. When the battle was over, more than fifteen hundred French warriors of noble blood lay . THE CHELSEA REVIEW

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to shelter those who would need shelter no more. It was a ghastly pall that covered them, made more ghastly by the fact that so many had not yet need of it. For a split second, there was silence, the awful silence that follows in the wake of a terrifying disaster. Then were heard the mount- ing cries and screams of those who held on to the remnants of life. Mangled bodies writhed and strove senselessly to free themselves from the shackles of their doom. Inside of the church and throughout the entire town, the decimated section was an inferno, horrible with the moans and screams of the victims of the blasts. Empty faces and legless bodies sought relief in their cries. The air was replete with the despair of physical agony. Father Toolin struggled to his feet, pushing aside the rubble that half-buried him with the inexplicable strength of desperation. Painfully he crawled to a mound formed by the debris. His head shrieked its pain. He wanted to join the others in the delight of crying out his dis- tress, but he knew that he must not. He had work to do. He had to help them to dissolve their despair, to give them hope. Summing up all his remaining strength, he called at the top of his voice: That was a rough one, fellows, that was rough. Let's not give up yet. They can't win. Even-even-now we can beat them. We've got a weapon they can't destroy. It was a strange voice that he heard, as though it was coming from a distance in the form of the echo of an echo. Yet something in his voice coaxed from them instant obedience. It was a voice that hushed the nightmare of their incredible dis- tress. The cries toned down to a whisper of groans. Let us pray, men, his voice commandedg let us pray. He began: O my God, I am heartily sorry . . . From the mangled and twisted bodies, tor- tured in the excess of agony, came a murmuring response: 0 my God, I am heartily sorry . . . Sobs, clenched-teethed sobs, punctuated their words. The pain in the priest's head grew worse. He could not see, but his wavering voice con- tinued steadily throughout that prayer of prayers: and I detest all my sins . . . The panic, the wild fear of the inevitable, was gone, as the uncertain voices limped in a sort of discord chant -- and I detest all my sins . . . Father Toolin sank to his knees in the final desperate effort to finish the prayer. His arms hung foolishly by his sides as he strove vainly to keep his head erect. Blood trickled from his eyes, his nose, his mouth. He spoke the last words in gasps that were wrung out of the depths of his soul: to do penance and to amend my life . . . He didn't hear the response as he fell face forward, his arms outstretched crosswise. Chap- lain Toolin's work was done. The dust settled gently over the holy place like a blanket. It was then that a shaft of soft light broke through, as though it were a spotlight, and marked the body of an other Christ, who, like his Divine Leader, had done that which was - beyond the call of duty. The ray, resplendently bright now, shone like a benediction from above on the body of Joseph M. Toolin - citizen, soldier, priest - hero for eternity! SENI0liS CAN BE SElll0llS going. My dad will be up, waiting for me with a stop-watch. Isn't it odd, I concluded as we walked out of the store, that after all these years, here we are talking about a man who has been dead all that time and was buried centuries ago, in Stratford-on-Avon. THE CHELSEA REVIEW . . fContinued from page 751 Well, you can't keep a good man down, Lump said, laughing. A badpun, I know, but old Bill, the master, is still alive--right here on the corner of 54th and City Line in Philadelphia- on-the-Delaware! And still the 'ghost' of the town, I'd say. What would you say, Skip ? ,I-skipped-it and said nothing. I just groaned. . 85

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dead on the battlefield. No one took time to count the soldiers of the common rank and file who fell that day, but there may have been more than ten thousand of them. The total number of English dead was only fifty. The longbow had won the day with a decisive vic- tory. One reason for the longbow's tremendous effect was the inevitable speed of its passage. W'ith one smooth motion, the archer whipped the arrow from the quiver hanging in front of him, swept it to the bowstring, and let it go. Amazingly enough, he could get olf more than twenty shots a minute. Thus we are told that the English bowmen could darken the skies with clouds of arrows. And it would seem that there is more truth to this than fiction. The longbow shot its arrow farther and with more force than the old crossbow. There is one credible source that maintains that the arrow from the longbow can penetrate a door of solid oak four inches thick. But the real secret of the longbow's death-dealing magic was the English archer himself. No matter how hard they tried, the soldiers of alien countries never learned to shoot it with the same skill. This is due to the fact that it took a lifetime of constant practice to develop the strength of wrist, arm, and shoulderg a coordinated strength that was needed to pull the longbow with a sure and steady hand. The English went so far as to enact laws which stated that, when a boy reached the age of seven, he was to be taught how to shoot the longbow by his father. If the father failed to do so, he was fined. Some of the English archers still used their bows in battle, long after the invention of guns, because they could fire fifteen to twenty arrows in the time it took to load and shoot one musket ball. Wlien the homeland was not at war, many English bowmen were hired out as paid soldiers in the service of noblemen in other parts of Europe. Their fame had spread far and wide, and they were in great demand. For the first time since the days of the Roman legions, the foot soldier, the ancestor of today's infantryman, became a person of military importance. The world will not soon forget the fantastic power of the English longbow that enabled England to assume a position of indisputable prominence in the family of medieval nations. W. wwfezzaazzaqmewza 1 My dear Graduates: I think it most appropriate to preface this graduation message to the Class of 1953 by extending to each of you the sincere congratula- tions of the members of the faculty. They have dedicated their lives to the great and noble work of Catholic education. Their greatest reward and their only real recompense is the realization that their efforts in your behalf have resulted in the present successful completion of your high school course, and that their influence has molded in you a new generation of hope and promise for God and for His Church. In the days that are to come, you will turn many times in kindly memory to them and to the valued lessons they have taught to you. I hope that your gratitude to them will often express itself in your prayers. THE CHELSEA REVIEW . Your graduation is at once an ending and a beginning. For many of you it will be the end of formal schooling, of classroom discipline, of lessons that must be learned, of examinations and of books that must be mastered, of report cards, and yes, of such things as detention, too. For some who go on to higher education these things will be only the prelude to the greater and more concentrated interests of college life. For all of you it marks the end of those pleasant associations with fellow students, and of all the things which go to make up life at St. Thomas More High School. Likewise for all of you it marks the beginning of a new period in your lives-a time of greater personal responsibility -of putting to use the knowledge you have gained, both religious and secular. The future will hold for each of you its share of success . 87