Troy High School - Trojan Yearbook (Troy, NH)

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56 Somewhere In Europe Somewhere on a ba Beverly Brown '45 ttlefield in Europe last month it was Germanyg last week it was Franceg today it's not quite sure --- is an American G. I. Joe, typical of his brothers in service. This G. I. Joe has been in combat long enough to know the horrors of war and the loneliness for his folks back home. - Is it any wonder that the thoughts of G. I. Joe turn to home whenever he is not doing his utmost against the Jerries? The most frequent times they had together and memories are of his folks and the good the simple pleasures which are missed so much now: the corner drug store where the gang used to hang outg the ball park where he play and how she cried when he r before going O. C. S. Cover One of Joe's most in which he carries picture he keeps in his blouse pock All these remembr feeling into Joe's heart ed his first baseball gameg his best girl eturned to camp from his last furlough the choppy seasl. ' treasured possessions is a small folder S of the things most dear to him. This et over his heart. ances of home put a sick and lonesome . He, like thousands of others, longs for the day when he will be returning home and'once again will be able to enjoy all he has to sacrifi The next best thi moment of the dayg when eac piece of home. News of'how over their rival: news of s hood playmate now somewhere puppiesg and, news from his thd the Joes closer to home This G. I. Joe is The Sgt. stands before them Denillis - Ayers - and so o found its owner. Joe turns who have not been forgotten. for news of home remains un this is the spiritless sold to the folks back home! it 91- Pic The apple shone lik The old shoe creake ce now to make this world worth living in. ng is mail call. This is the happiest h hears his name called and receives a the high school basketball team triumphed 1s's new boy friendg news of his child- in the Pacificg news of his dogs new girl--all-these bring home closer to Joe anxiously awaiting his name to be called. and calls out: Richards - Gray - Taylor - n until the last letter and package has away sadly and walks from his buddies quenched. This is the heart-broken boyg ierg for he received no mail today--thanks -I6 it 'L 'L -X- turesque Speech e the top of a bald man's head. d like an old man's voice. Eleanor Howe '45 His loneliness is multipliedg his thirst

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57 The Last Assignment Elizabeth Hallock '45 Groping cautiously through the underbrush past the menacing German pillboxes, the old man thought of his wife who had been tortured in a murder factory for refusing to reveal information of an escaped British prisoner. He ' thought of his daughter who had been sent to a concentration camp because she was the wife of a Jew. He thought of his only son who had never known freedom but had willingly become a gear in the Nazi machine. Finally he thought of his own name, Franz Hauffner, which was at the top of the Gestapo's long black list. For the last month he had been hiding from the Gestapo, living and sleeping in ditches, rivers or whatever he could find. Even in the pitch dark, the rugged ground he was now treading was not unfamiliar to him for it was here that he had played the strenuous games of his youth. At last he arrived at his destination - the destination, a bridge which stretched its long arms over the powerful Rhine River, separating the land of the Allies and the Germans - the bridge which would save time and lives'of the Allies if it could remain intact. Since the Allies had recently made a new offens- ive, the once agressive Germans were now retracing their steps back over the bridge in disorderly retreat. The course was unmistakable to Franz. Earlier that day, he had watched the men laying the explosives to destroy the bridge when the German Army had succeeded in recrossing. It was than that Franz had decided to save the bridge at any cost. a As the trucks were racing past him with no lights any- where except for the explosions, there seemed to be little possibility of his being revealed to the sentries. when he reached the first charge of explosives, he cut the wires and with a passionate surge of energy, he shoved the dynamite Wiul all his might into the river. The roar of the long distance guns, the grumble of the trucks on the bridge, and the moan of fighters above, muffled the splash. The muscles in his arms weakened, his hands were cut and stiff, and piercing shots of pain raced through his back. Only with his tenacity of purpose and the miraculous aid of God, he was able to complete his task. Slowly he dragged his wearied body as far from the bridge as possible, then he dropped in exhaustion. When the first glimmering rays of dawn showed above the Eastern horizon, Franz saw that his resting place was a clump of clutching brambles and that he had crawled about one hundred feet in his desperation. Voices nearby startled him to wakeful- ness and he lay flat on the ground just in time for two Germans strolled past him. Peering through the bushes, he saw in the distance a tiny line of the advancing Allied patrol and all around him was the German Army in lively withdrawal. Suddenly a blow on his head blacked-out his senses. ' A