Troy High School - Trojan Yearbook (Troy, NH)

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42 I had to get rid of the gun and get back inside with the crowd. I looked around me. I was crazy with fear. If I threw it into the pond or among the flowers they would be sure to find it. what could I do? Suddenly I thought of something. Once before this evening I had walked down to a brick garage where the chauffer had parked my car. I had noticed then that there were a few bricks missing along one wall. As the garage was partially covered with ivy this made an excellent hiding place. The police certainly wouldn't think of looking there. ' After I had hidden the gun I very cautiously went back into the party through the front door. In this way I was back mingling with the crowd before anyone had noticed that I had gone. You know the rest. The police never found the murderer or even the motive for the crime. I've lived ten years with this terrible sin. I've tried thousands of ways to forget it but it always comes back, haunting me in my dreams, following me wherever I go, driving me mad. I canft stand it any longer. Q If you can find it in your hearts please forgive me, for you see, I was a victim of my own conscience. Eileen Wilks Gratitude ' Carolyn Lammela '46 I am thankful for this country, A home of liberty, Where men can always come and go, And seek democracy. I am thankful that I have a home, One upon a hill, Where birds will always sing a song, And winds are seldom still. I am thankful for this hallowed ground, That I can call my own, And do the things I like to do, On this land that God has sown. I am thankful for a nice, warm fire, When days and nights are cold, .Where I can sit and be content, And all my gifts enfold. '

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45 Twentieth Century Hero , Theresa LaPorte '46 The only sounds that broke the stillness of the night were the whispers of the tense nervous men, soldiers of Uncle Sam's Army waiting to carry out the commands at the exact time. hFive more minutes,H came the voice of the com anding officer. Thoughts crowded into the minds of the men. what re- sistance would they meet? would they ever see the United States again? How they yearned for a hug from Mom or a piece of her delicious pie. Pvt. Pat Fenway was among these men. Slowly his H thoughts returned to homey a cozy house situated in a small town in Rhode Island. In the window hung a star like those in the other windows along Pine Street. Where once the shouts of young- sters had been heard, all was quiet now except for the neighbors' gossip carried on in the back yards. Pat had been drafted at the age of eighteen by his Uncle, like so many other men. The first years of army life had been tough at times, but still the few furloughs he had had made for everything. Pat could picture Mom Fenway hum ing away while she did her housework, a smooth dust cap covering her silver-streaked black hair. How she would jump when Pat would sneak up behind her and give her a boyish hug. Land of gracious! You want to kill a poor soul. would be the first words from her lips. Suppose you're home for a few days. Might just as well sit down and eat the last apple pie in the house. You always do.n A smile played on Pat's face as he thought of this and smacked his lips as he tasted the pie. V Three more minutes, came the commanding voice again. A rustle of uneasiness sounded through the barge. Pat's thoughts again went to the past. He had been in the First Infantry Division for eighteen months as a Browning automatic rifleman and had gone through part of the Tunisian and all of the Sicilian Campaign. The Sicilian Campaign had been A the worst. Pat, by good fortune, escaped without a scratch, but the horrors of war came to him just the same. His best pal, , Roger Layman, had been killed by his side. Sick with grief, Pat had fought on, determined with more force than ever to repay Them. Staring ahead in the inky blackness, the coast of France appiarid like a land of horror and a residence for ghosts, ghosts o or ure. Quickly the men checked their weapons and got ready to jump on the soil of France at the given command. Almost time men for H-hour. Just one more min ------ . A terrific explosion interrupted the officer's words. All went black before Pat's eyes. The cold icy water seemed to awake him from the trance. He could see other fellows from the barge all around him, some going under the water but failing to appear again, others trying to cling to the remains of the barge. Pat tried to swim but every stroke caused a pain that brought drops of perspiration to his face. The concussion had 1