University of Wisconsin Superior - Gitche Gumee Yearbook (Superior, WI)

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Barbara Sherman seated at the little mahogany desk in her room wrote slowly and thoughtfully, pausing now and then to glance at an open letter lying near. As the end of an hour drew near she finished writing, folded the sheets of beautifully engraved pink paper, put them in an envelope and addressed it: Mr. Jean Bouchaire, 5 Rue Maude 5 Saint Denis (pres') Paris, France. Barbara then picked up a calendar and carefully put a tiny check on a Wednesday which occurred just four weeks after the last check. “Four weeks, then another letter for you Monsieur Jean. Do 1 write often enough ? Once a week, once every Wednesday! But poor little Tommy, how neglected he has been. Just a note now and then hoping he was safe and stating how busy I am.” But now, after a year. Tommy was coining home again. A glorious Tommy, who had fought and fought, but who had finally been sent home disabled with a broken leg. His nurse had written while lie was in the hospital, that the leg had been badly crushed, that it would eventually be all right but would take a long time to mend. And he was coming that night. 11 is boat had arrived but would be held in quarantine until six that evening. He would then be free to drive out to her. Barbara arose and walked over to her dressing table. She pieked up two pictures and smiled as she held them together for comparison. “You Jean, decidedly French with your dark hair and eyes, and Tommy so American—light wavy hair and blue eyes. Both soldiers much alike, vet really how different!” She carefully replaced the pictures and turned again to her desk. From a little drawer she took a handful of letters, then crossed the room, switched out the lights and went down stairs. As she entered the large drawing room, Barbara saw her father sitting on the large beautiful davenport before the grate fire, reading a paper. The only light in the room came from the shaded lamp on the table just behind him and from the fire in the grate. “Good evening, father, what’s the news? Mr. Sherman looked up quickly and smiled. He put the paper aside and affectionately drew his daughter down beside him. “Where in the world does my little Bab keep herself lately? Is it still the Red Cross?” It certainly is. only much more. All day we’ve been making bandages, oh, just stacks of them and to-night there is to be that wonderful benefit party at Mrs. Reynolds’ new home, but of course I couldn’t think of going since we expect Tommy. Dear old Tommy, I wonder if lie’s changed? I’ve been so excited all day that I could hardly work.” Mr. Sherman smiled and said: »2

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e JUNIORS. President .... WILLIAM GEBO Vice President - - HELEN ORVAL1) Secretary and Treasurer - GERTRUDE WADE At the first meeting of the Junior Class, which was called by Mr. Merrill in January, the class elected their officers for the year. These officers have proven their metal and have aided the Junior Class in pulling together for a successful year. A social committee consisting of Helen K. Murphy. Madeline Mclntcer, Edwin Nelson, Albert Butler and Ludwig Anderson was also elected at the first meeting. Soon after the first class party was planned for February twenty-first. Later Ernestine Boll and David Smith were chosen as class representatives for the Gitchc staff. The class closed their activities for the year with a party which was just as successful and well attended as their first one.

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“I sec by the paper that bis boat is in. He’ll have a lot to tell us Bab, and I admit I've been getting very anxious myself. Let’s see, it's just seven-thirty— well, lie ought to be here in an hour.” “Oh. yes, in any hour anyway, unless lie has car trouble, so we’ll wait right here and I’ve brought down some letters that I thought you would like to hear parts of. You see Tommy and this Frenchman, Jean, arc very great friends, fought side by side. And, while Tommy was in Paris in the hospital, Jean was able to visit him when he was on leave. Well some way. Jean got mv address and wrote begging me to answer. So what could I do. I ask you, father? You see lie is a poor lonesome soldier, who has been fighting for four years, and so I sort of adopted him to see if I couldn’t cheer him up a bit.” Barbara picked up one of the letters and said: “Oh, this is a darling, do let me ready part of it. It was one of the first.” ‘Dear Miss Sherman—How delightfully surprised I was when the postmaster came this morning bring ing me a letter from my dear American friend. It was with very great pleasure that I learned that a nice young American girl was willing to accept to correspond with an humble French and alien ’Poilu.’ ’ “Poilu, Poilu, what a strange word. How do you suppose it’s pronounced, father?” “Why, I haven’t the slightest idea, dear.” “Well, never mind. I’ll go on.” “‘It’s very kind of you to think, notwithstanding the great distance which separates your country from the battle-field, of the poor soldiers who arc fighting for the right cause. These arc not ungrateful to the affectionate testimonies that you and your numerous friends send to them. They arc willing to die to avoid you to know the German villanics and if they arc still fighting like lions, it is with the. only hope that after the battle, they’ll find some charming young lady, such as Miss Sherman, gay and smart, who will do their best so that the ‘Sammies’ should forget this awful war which has upset the world. “’But that’s enough about war now isn't it? I’ll introduce me to you—Jean Bouchairc, actually corporal in the colonial artillery. In peace time somewhat explorer and commercial in Africa (Ivory coat) to.precise. Born in Paris, twenty-three years old, a great devil of six feet, American looking, very thin and shaved moustaches. I have black hair, brown eyes, black eve-brows, white skin and white teeth. He is not a very wicked boy and loves very much the little misses. I don’t sec anything else to add. Do I please you thus? “ ‘Now, you asked me to tell you about my country, about this splendid France, which is the world’s home. What eulogy should be better than the one your own people coming over here to give to this country. It is only wonderful. “ ‘My parents are living in St. Denis, a small place next to Paris, where I regularly spend my holidays. I love my home-very much because it stands between water and an immense wood and also because it is at so small a distance from Paris, (the light town).’ Well, that’s enough of that one, but here’s another. “‘Dear Barbara: I received two letters yesterday and the New York post cards, of which I am very pleased. I did not know your city was so large, and I could not help laughing when I had a look at the high houses, what a marvelous observatory post it should be for the next war. “ ’I wish I was your chum and you take me every opportunity you have for a ride in your car all around New York. How nice it would be, at least for me. “ ‘My great pleasure when I go to Paris is to take a taxi and ride all around the city; of course, you'll be the chauffeur, and I want my place near the chauffeur. aa