Troy High School - Trojan Yearbook (Troy, NH)

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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

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58 when he came to, and his brain had cleared, he found himself the captive of the Gestapo near the outskirts of his home town. A coarse voice ordered him to stand against the wall As the Gestapo no longer had time for prolonged torture, they were forced to resort to quicker methods. Limply, Franz raised himself from the ground and proudly placed his shoulders against the wall. He neither saw nor heard his captors for the dream of the first surge of the Allied assault-crossing his bridge flooded his brain. The shot of a pistol resounded in the turbulent air and the lifeless form slumped to It' the ground. - It's Either Too Hot or Too Cold Howard Moore '45 , Ass't Janitor s either too hot or it's much too cold: Although the furnace, is really not oldg And It' You To You But You You You The The The but And when it gets warm, I still am toldg s either too hot or it's much too cold. wake up and get up at six, the schoolhouse, the furnace to fix, throw on the wood, you throw on the coal, the steam doesn't rise, though the furnace open the drafts, you shake the ash, open the doors, to the radiators you dash, turn on the steam and to your surprise, locked up steam, begins to rise, thermometer is stuck at twenty-two, degrees above zero are very fewg after an hour, it begins to get warm, the job is done for this one morn, Soon the bell rings, and the students come in, And But llIt, they talk of the games they lose and they when they speak, I always am told, s either too hot or it's much too cold. , isn't old, wing