Vandergrift High School - Spectator Yearbook (Vandergrift, PA)

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13 thr spectator valiant young son of hers who, in the spring time of his life had gone to fight for her and his country, I also ‘hou.,ht of his sweetheart who anxiously awaited the “sometime” when the wax would end and he would return to her and happiness. I passed on to the next one, a man, • say “man,” but he was little more ihan a boy. As I knelt over him he ■ aved in delirium. In a tremor of fear he gripped my wrist and raised his haunted eyes in pleading. “For m.v sake, Lethe, take care of the boy.” His grip on my wrist loosened; he j ut his hand to his chest and with a i roan of agony died. I pictured a frivolous young wife and a little son, the idol of this father, and prayed that ivhen the message of his death reached her that for his sake, she would take care of the boy. I bent over a mangled form—I rhrieked—and grew faint. Oh no, it could not be, yet it was—my Jim. I took his limp brown head in my arm and kissed the war begrimed face He moved. Was there yet hol e 1 He opened his eyes and gazed bewildered, then recognition gleamed in them and with one last effort he murmured. “It's alright Betty, remember it’s for our country. Then he died in my arms. It i6 those words that have sustained me and kept me from bitterness. This is what the war brought me but I do not regret it for my Jim could not have died for a nobler cause. America will soon forget now that Peace is here. “Peace” what a wonderful word, but for one whose heart is broken—there is no peace! MARTHA HILTY. -------oo-------- A SOLDIER’S DREAM. Kent Norris dropped to the ground with a deep sigh of satisfaction, if not content. There had been fighting almost the entire day. Many of his intimate chums had been wounded or killed. Throughout the entire day he had done his best; fighting, running, and screaming here and there. The fever of fighting was in his brain, and it was many hours before he dropped into a troubled sleep out on that war-torn and body strewn battlefield. Kent saw' himself and his comrades running and capturing one trench after another; overthrowing and destroying large guns; taking German prisoners without number; capturing supi lies and ammunition; killing man of the officers of highest rank; -all these things he saw and he was the leader and hero of it all. Then can e a day when many of his comrades and high-ranking officers lined up to do him honor; how the general came and pinned a medal of honor, and when last of all, he was decorated by the French with the Croix de Guerre, his joy knew no bounds. Kent was awakened by the steady firing of heavy guns; by the shouts of comrades: and by the steady tramp of the advancing enemy. He jumped to his feet, eager to join his comrades w'ho were being rapidly marshalled into something like order. Kent was still exalted in spirit by his recent dream, and resolved that he would, at least try to do something unusual; something that would bring him the love of his countrymen and the admiration and respect of his fighting friends, for Kent had been something of a joke to the other fellows on account of daintiness and dislike of anything bordering on the rough. Among the boys in Kent’s company was a college chum Between these two boys was the strongest bond of love and friendship. Neither spoke to the other in regard to these feelings but each kn ew and trusted the other. The very dissimilarity of the two probably held them together, along with the lovable finalities of each. Kent was the 1 ami ered soul of a rich New Yorker, not exactly weak, but none too strong. His chum was poor, had been working his way through college, and was as strong as a horse. Kent loved and respected his chum for his wonderful strength, mental and physical; Kent was in a measure protected by his strong comrade. During the severe fight which followed Kent found himself close to Samson, as he was jokingly called by all his company. So close were they to a truck that Kent perceived a rifle of a German pointed toward his chum.

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THE SPECTATOR 'lag with the inscription “Don't Treri On Me”. Still in this year Washington realized the necessity for one emblem for all the Colonies. Benjamin Franklin, Mr. Lynch and Mr. Harrison were appointed to consider the “National Colors.” They decided to retain the “Union Jack” of England as part of the design but changed the field to thirteen alternating stripes of red and white, emblematic of the thirteen ce lonies. The first striped flag was raised over Washington’s headquarters at Cambridge, Jan. 2, 1776, know to Fngland as the “Rebellions Stripes.” Congress appointed General Washington, Robert Morris and Col. Ross to designate a suitable flag for the nation As a result of conference with Betsy Ross it wus decided to retain the stripes hut instead of the “Union Jack the blue field with thirteen stars should be part in its place. This flag was then adopted by the United States June 14, 1777. In 1812, Vermont and Kentucky were added making fifteen stars and thirteen stripes. It was in 1814 that Francis Scott Key wrote the “Star-Spangle Banner”. In 1831, Captain Stephen Driver when about to sail from Salem Mass., was presented with a large American flag. As it was flying to the breeze he cried, “I christen thee ‘Old Glory’ a name that will now endure as long as the emblem itself”. There has been a star added to the flag for every state admitted and now we have thirteen stripes and forty-eight stars representing a united nation -all for one and one flag for all. -----------------oo--------- THE STORY OF A RED CROSS NURSE. Jim and I had been married but three wreeks when war was declared. We decided that we would give our all for our country so Jim enlisted as a private and I, as a red Cross Nurse. Being a trained nurse, I was sent to France almost immediately while Jim was kept in America in training. By some great chance we met again in Paris. Our happiness did not last long for Jim wfas soon called to the front. 12 At last my long hoped for orders came and I was called to a base hos pital near the front line trenches, awful scenes, the broken bones, Oh God! shal I ever forget those the tom flesh, the moans, the prayers and the curses of those wounded and dying men; the shrieks and wails of tjrtured wometa. and children! Oh the horror of it shall stay with me till I die. You, who have never seen it, will never know how horrible it all is. You do not realize why your boys are silent, why they are disgusted with the sweet young frivolous thing who simpers: pers. “Oh, please, tell us about the war. 1 am sure it must be romantic to be a soldier.” I will tell you why. They have in truth walked through the Valley of the Shadow of Death and some of its awe and sacredness has clung to them and it has made men of them. They have seen their Pals fall dead from the shell of a power crazed Hun. They have witnessed sights that would have caused a weak man to go stark mad but because they were strong they endured for the sake of Humanity and Democracy. Oh I could write pages but what is the use for ’tis only those who have seen, that will really understand so I shall go on with my stoiy. One evening a message came from headquarters for volunteers to go out on the field and help the wounded. I and several other nurses went. That night is indeed branded on my soul! It was dark and black—an ominous Hack. The guns and cannons thundered. The bombs burst with a deafening roar. The glare of the rockets revealed cold, white, ghastly faces with staring eyes, and barbed wire entanglements hung with mangled bodies. The ground was reeking with blood and covered with dead and dying men. We went about helping those we could. I knelt down beside a fair haired boy, bound the deep gash in his head and wiped the blood from bis face. As I looked on his handsome young face. I thought of the mother who hoped and prayed for the

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THE SPECTATOR Of course it was partly his imagina tion; but so great a love did he hold for this man, that in a moment he had made a spring and throwr him upon hie face where he lay stunned, but otherwise unhurt. But not so Kent Norris. Anticipating something whch might never have happened, loyally saving his friend, the charge from the gun shot him in the leg. fracturing his leg into a hideous mass of bone and flesh. Many weary daye he spent in the hospital, and when at last he came forth on crutches, his face bore a resigned but happy look. No honors came to him for this brave deed but in his heart he knew that he had saved the life of his friend, and this brought more satisfaction and pleasure than any honors could ever have done. MILDRED McGEARY, ’20. ---------oo-------- TRY, TRY AGAIN.” The quarter was well earned by Bobbie. Hadn’t he been a good boy all the time the company was there? Bobbie welcomed it joyously. With the Big Drive on, Bobbie thought of nothing but quarters, for quarters mean thrift stamps. True, Bobbie had an enormous big foi ler that seemed to have thousands of blank spaces for the placing of stamps and they were all yet blank. This was the first quarter which had come his way since the drive started and Bobbie placed it on the mantle beside his bank until he could purchase one of those much desired pieces of green paper. Returning soon from play, the small boy went to the parlor expecting to find the quarter where he put it. The spot where it had rubbed the dust off was still there but that was all. A rather tearful Bobbie demanded explanations and it developed that father when he Saw the piece of money laying there had slipped it in the bank. When it was explained that the quarter had a very good mission to perform, Father gladly substituted for it another quarter which Bobbie thought much brighter. Down into a deep little pocket it slipped and Bobbie staited for his 14 thrift stamp. On seeing a girl approach who was selling them, Bobbie went deep into his pocket and found —a hole. A very, very tearful Bobbie, after searching diligently for the money, necided that that quarter was not meant for thrift stamps. He went 1-ome and said little about his loss. That evening Mother, mending his coat, found, lodged in he lining, a new shiny quarter. This time, let me assure you, Bobbie put his trust in neither mantles noire ckets but held it tightly in a small clenched fist. That quarter, before it paid for a thrift Stamp, found its way be hind a radiator, back into a dark corner more than once and had several other adventures equally alarming to Bobbie, who in the end. however, pasted crookedly in the upper left hand corner of a T. S. blank ■i new green piece of paper—a Thrift Stamp. MADALENE FITZSIMMONS—’22. -------oo-------- INDIAN STORIES. While efficient Lieutenant Blane was the commander of Fort Ligonier in 1763, several parties of Indians came to the fort, claiming to be triendly. One young warrior, named Maidenfoot, was very much attracted by a young girl of eleven years, named Mary Means. He gave her a beautiful string of beads. One day in late May, Mrs. Means and Mary started to the fort, for there were rumors of Indians in the immediate vicinity. The girl wore her beads. As they were going through the woods, some Indians captured them and bound them to saplings. Late in the afternoon Maidenfoot appeared, sent perhaps to take their scalps. He recognized the beads and released Mary and her mother. Then he conducted them home in a roundabout wayr, where they met Mr. Means. Madenfoot took them to the mountains to stay till the fight would be over. Before he left them the young warrior took a silk handkerchief of the girl, and on it was worked in black silk her name, Mary Means.