Warrensburg High School - Hackensack Yearbook (Warrensburg, NY)

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Page 24 THE HI-ROCK of place, and the gas detector mars the beauty of the lawn. But what is this compared with sights of other schools? In Russia, China, and in England itself many schools are now no more, and my own dear school in London is just a heap of bricks and rubble, but my mind is wandering and I must come back to the present. I hurry into the cloakroom, shed my beret and blazer and hurry into the hall for prayers and notices. I take my place in the long rows of girls, approximately 300 duplicates or my- self—tunics, blouses, ties, and all. Very dull it must sound, to you young Americans, but then again very typical of England. Prayers having been said, near and dear relatives having been prayed for, the day's events—if any—having been read, the usual polite greetings having been exchanged, our begowned head-mistress takes her graceful exit, and we file out, into our various form-rooms. Our forn-meeting then takes place. Red Cross money, savings stamps etc., having been dealt with, we journey to our first lesson. Owing to our school being so over- crowded, we use an old deserted building for our lessons. Al- though it is dark and very cold in winter, nobody grumbles, because we know that we are comparatively lucky. Having waded through the various Theorems of Pythagoras and the mysteries of I rigonometry, we drift mechanically into the next lesson, which is on the English classics and Literature, and so on until break, when I seize an opportunity to read my letters. The first is from my father in the R.A.F. whom I learn is well, and very busy flying. The second is from my cousin newly ar- rived in Algiers, who is well, very sunburned and anxious to get in the fighting. I sigh a little after reading the letters and try to settle down to lessons once again, reminding myself that I have to sit for a public examination quite soon and must study hard or swot as we say. Lunch time comes at last, and I cycle home and swiftly dine from a small ration of meat and other vegetable concoctions. It is the night for our Girls Training Corps to meet so I have to change into my uniform—navy skirt, tie, white blouse, and navy forrage cap and once more bid my mother good-bye and return to school—more eagerly this time— decked with hockey stick, boots and all. We play a match which is a swift hard battle, and ends in a draw. After play- ing, fresh energy seems to have been made, and we all chat- ter, laugh and hurry back to school to chemistry, and then more subdued to hear a lecture given by a Russian woman on her country. This dynamic woman addresses the hushed audience, and we sit intrigued in her powers of narrating, and I myself am fired with Revolutionary ideas for improving school and society. Many questions are asked her, and I, rather timidly at first, ask her questions and then put at ease, discuss several queries with her and enjoy myself immensely. But our discussion is rudely interrupted by the familiar wail of the siren, and we all file out to the shelters, where we carry on with our discussion. The air-raid is without incidents apart from local gun-fire and distant bombs. We cheer lustily when the all-clear sounds, and make our way to our various homes. Our G. T. C. meetings take place in the school building, and all girls are eligible from fifteen to seventeen or eighteen, if for some reason they are exempt from military service or war-work. We have canteen first, and tea and cakes can be bought very cheaply. At 4:30 P. M. sharp we get on parade, have prayers, and hear several notices about the present meet ing. We then separate into companies under N.C.O.'s and put forward suggestions for future meetings. We are told that it has been arranged for us to do farm work soon for five or six weeks, to assist the farmers: we are all very enthusiastic and look forward to it. We then have our weekly morse lessons and send messages to each other. Our Sergeant Major then arrives, and gives us a stiff drilling, and we go for a five mile route march. We certainly are relieved when we return to our head- quarters for an Aircraft Recognition Lecture qiven by a boy in the Air Training Corps—our rival corps. We learn with horror that we have a big exam next week on what we have learned and I mentally note to brush up my little knowledge of Aircraft. The meeting ends with another parade and dismissal, taking the salute. At this point in every meeting I always get a queer, proud feeling at belonging to a very primitive service, bui one with such true aims of remaking the better world of tomorrow. But I suppose I'm just a little too sentimental. I linger a little while to chat with friends, but suddenly re- member my homework, and hurry home. I shut myself away in my den. and attempt to solve the mysteries of Algebra anJ French grammar, but do so with the aid of Glen Miller's band. Gradually I lose myself in a sea of dreams, of what my re- latives dotted all over the globe are doing, if they are safe, of my friends I have not seen for three years and if they have forgotten me. Also what you boys and gills in America are doing, and if you differ a groat deal from us, sometimes envy- ing you and your lives, but for all tha, I love my country an J what yours and mine both stand for. And a: I make my way wearily to bed, I dream of the time when vra. and sufferings are over throughout the world, and peace is once more re stored ,and men can sleep undisturbed. But until that day, we will continue to live our war-distorted lives and thank God for what we have, and pray for courage, and so on to VICTORY. Sylvia Thomas'' Lost 1931—A happy wave of excitement rippled through the crowd. The prizes were to be given out now. Mothers' faces brightened: children leaned forward. They waited eagerly, triumphantly confident. Breath-taking silence—the President was awarding the prizes: Mr. dames Brown—first prize in sciences. The crowd clapped acknowledgingly. Miss Sydney Granier—first prize in high school art. A young girl arose from among the graduates. An ill-fitting, flimsy dress draped her slender figure like a weeping willow. She was poor; she must have struggled to attain this night. The President had a soft spot deep in his heart. Keep this for Good Luck, he whispered. Always, he added. Into her hand he dropped a shiny ten-dollar gold piece. The crowd politely clapped. 1935—It was just like any art museum in any big city. Today as the dark cars drove up to the long, white buildinq, there was success in the air. Fifteen young people felt it especially. Fifteen young art students who had attained the highest honor of Brette Art College—displaying their master- pieces in the Art Museum. Among these fifteen, th-ee were awarded prizes. Mr. John A. Grafield won first honors with his Mountain Brook : Miss Sydney Granier, second, for her Onward,' and Mr. Samuel Dugritzi third for his Inspira- tion.” 1937—The Honorable Sir Nelson Bronte, noted visitor from London was entertained at several parties given in his honor. Sir Bronte honored the society of Atlanta by his attendance at the weekly Social Dance held at the Rainbow Hotel. While in Atlanta his portrait was done by the rising young artist, Miss Sydney Granier. Miss Granier s work was very popular with the Atlanta society. 1940—Mr. and Mrs. Richard J. Bendit, recently mar- ried in Atlanta, spent a few weeks in New York City. Richard Bendit is the son of John R. Bendit, Steel King. Mrs. Bendit was the former Miss Sydney Granier, well-known young artist. 1942— The funeral of John R. Bendit, owner of Universal Steel Company, was held yesterday. Many prominent persons in business and society attended. Richard J. Bendit, only son of the well-known man, was the heir to the Bendit fortune. 1943— Lost Ad: Lost within last two weeks—ten-dollar gold piece on gold chain. Dated 1931. Lost somewhere in City or vicinity. Reward raised to $1,000. Box J3 101.- —Anne O'Connor

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THE HI-ROCK Page 23 At last Saturday night had come. Bobby's mother and father were having a party that evening, so as soon as he was sent to bed, Bobby began to make his preparations. He got his food and put it in a bag; put his money in his pocket and took one last look around. I hen he almost took off his clothes and went to bed as good boys should. He did waver a little and decided to leave a note. He found a small piece of paper and began to write, I'm going some place where I can have a dog and some boy-friends.” Now we find Bobby climbing down the ivy outside his window. One step—two steps—three steps. Will I never reach the bottom? Whoops! I almost fell that time. I mustn't do that; they would hear me and I'd have to stay here. Nine steps—ten steps. I must hurry—I must—I must! It I take much longer. I'll be caught. Suddenly as he was thinking this, his hand slipped! It was rather hard hanging on to the vine and the bag, too. He tried desperately to hang on, but he was help- less. His other hand slipped, and down he went! His parents and the guests came running when they heard his scream and found him lying still and white. They grasped the situation quickly and carried him into the house. His mother ran to Bobby's room to get a blanket and saw the note on his dresser. She was very touched by his wish for a dog and friends. Then and there she promised herself to be belter to her only boy. —Julie Rounds Inside The Fortress There were solemn looks on the young pilots' faces, as they filed out of the ready room” onto the field, where their big, beautiful B 17 E's were warming up, getting ready for the 'take off. Tough assignment today, eh, Harry?” remarked Squadron Captain Jimmy Smith, as he strapped himself into the pilots’ seat, right next to his buddy's. Yeah, we're going to see a lot of fireworks before we hit the old cot tonight,” replied the young co-pilot. Jimmy slowly pulled the throttles out, and the big plane rolled down the field, and climbed far into the foggy sky, on its way to hit the objective hard. Gee, I wonder what mom is doing now?'' exclaimed Harry, wishing this war were over and he at home again. Probably getting ready to go shopping with my mother, answered the captain. This conversation was interrupted by a quick message from the rear gunner who shouted over the telephone. Fifteen enemy Focke-Wolf’s coming in fast!” Man battle stations!” cried the captain to his plane and !o the others in the formation. In a flash the fortresses were ready for the foe. and the reply of the different crews was not in words, but from the sharp repor-i of machine gun fire, as they opened up” on the enemy. Simultaneously, when the guns began spouting their deadly hail of tracer bullets, twenty millemeter shells began dropping through the cabin in Jimmy's fortress, damaging the interior, but fortunately not injuring the men or vital equip- ment. How many did we get?' asked Jimmy to the pilots of the different squadrons as soon as the enemy planes departed at a rightful speed. The nilot of the last plane, who watched them fall onto the once free fields of Belgium, reported six were shot down and four were damaged. Almost as quickly as this episode had started it had ended, and soon the monotonous drone of the motors re- assured the crews that they soon would see the target. Gosh. I wonder if Alice is still being bothered by the 4F salesman? If only I were back home. I’d soon have him un- fit for class I0Z,” said the co-pilot in a vengeful tone. Jimmy answered in a soothing voice, Now. I wouldn't worry about her, because if I know Alice, she can take care of herself very well.” We re getting quite close to the target, captain! So keep your eyes peeled for danger, exclaimed the navigator. All set with your bombsight. sergeant?” remarked the watchful pilot. Hold on! We're going upstairs!” shouted the pilot to the crews. Soon the planes leveled off at thirty thousand feet, and immediately continued quickly along. Then the bombardier phoned the pilot and calmly said, I'm ready to take over, sir. O. K. What do I do?” came the quick reply from the squadron leader. Commence diving at a forty-seven degree angle—hold her at that angle—bombay doors open! These were the first commands, and as Harry finished pushing the button which released the huge doors, the most important command was issued. Release bombs! There was a piercing whistling sound as the deadly blockbusters raced toward the target. It was a most important target, for there, below the mighty fortresses were the brist- ling factories of Berlin. Then there was a series of earsplitting explosions as the mighty weapons came to life and delivered their loud and important message. Silence reigned on the return trip as all thoughts were turned to those loved ones of the crews. —Ralph Foster An English Girl's School Day Some time ago several boys and girls from our school began a correspondence with boys and girls in other countries. Among these was Dorothy Brooks, who has been writing for two years to a girl in England. Below is a letter written to Dorothy and the others of her class telling about an average school day in England: To my friends of Warrensburg— MY DAY My average day I'm afraid doesn't make very interest- ing reading, but I will endeavor to portray a real picture—one typical of many girls my age today. So having prepared you for this very ordinary narrative I will begin—naturally enough —at the beginning of my day. when first I greet the morn. It is 7:30 A. M. and time to rise, so rather reluctantly I spring out of bed, pull back the heavy black-out curtains, bathe in my 5 inches of water— which is one way of saving fuel and water—and dress speedily. I then make a cup of tea for my mother who has a hard day's work ahead of her—she does part-time work, as thousands of others do. in a munition plant. After breakfasting of National Bread, a very small ration of butter, and the inevitable English cup of tea. I put out the salvage, kiss my mother and sister goodbye, and start out, books, satchel, bicycle and all for school. Much to my pleasure I meet the post-woman at the gate who hands me two letters. I stuff them in my pocket and set off for school, which is only a little more than a mile away: I cycle past the old familiar places, and finally come to the crossroads, one road of which leads to my home. London, and all that I loved, and is no more. The roads are minus private cars, and now convoys of army trucks and America's own Jeeps stream along the roads. But here I am almost at school, which is a tall white- stone house, with a lonq gravel path and tennis court, looking so pre-war and peaceful, but as I near it. the netted anti-blast windows come into view; the anti-blast wall seems oddly out

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THE HI-ROCK SERVICEMEN Page 25 Our art classes have made great progress this year under the supervision of Mrs. Edward Lipowicz. The seventh and eighth grades both had large art classes. In Representation I there were six members who continued on into Design I. There was only one pupil in Representation II and Design II. Me- chanical Drawing is entirely made up of boys this year. The seventh grac'o have done soap carving which turned out very well in most cases except for a few broken legs or arms on their carvings. One of the main projects of the year was the drawing of large pictures in chalk. Some of these were displayed on the ar, bulletin boards in the lower hall. The seventh grade ended the year with portraits of girls done in crayon on wallpaper. The eighth grade started the year by learning perspec- tive. This was followed by Christmas cards made by linoleum block print. Then they cut out designs and stenciled them on regular wallpaper. In spite of a few casualties of cut fingers, ,hc project turned out very well. They ended the year by doing crafts such as wooJc.i bracelets, rings, trays, dishes and candle stick holders. Aside from the required problem in Representation I and Design I, leather wallets were made by this class. At Christmas, thev made either large winter scenes or Christmas scenes in chalk. They have also made posters for various events. The one lone pupil of Representation II and Design II this year is still the lone wolf. In Representation II photographs and pictures were done in the mediums, pencil and also pen and ink. Designing silverware, a magazine cover, posters and costumes were all completed in Design II. Silk screening was also tried. Leathei work was the only craft project in this class. Oil painting occupied two weeks around Christmas time. The art work in the grades which is the regular pictures and holiday projects was very well done this year. As the art course continues year after year, the children are coming to look upon it as fun and not as a terrible task which must be done under the teacher's watchful eye. They have found that encouragement instead of rebuke is given them by our gracious teacher. We are all very sorry to lose Mrs. Lipowicz this year, but with the memory of the fun and encouragement she gave us, we all wish her much happiness and success in her new occupation. Martha Rhodes '44 Chance to Stock Up A salesman, driving through a remote section of a distant state, stopped at a crude service station for some gasoline. By wav of making conversation with the attendant, he said: Great job General MacArthur is doing over there in the Pacific, isn’t it? Who’s MacArthur? drawled the slow-moving attendant. T’Why, he's the fellow who’s leading our forces that are whipping the Japs! What’s he whipping them about? Oh, never mind! Just give me twenty gallons of gas and two full sets of new tires. Throughout the year in previous editions of the HI- ROCK, we have listed many names of former students who are now in the services of Uncle Sam. The purpose of this honor roll is to give our readers a list of names and the addresses of boys to whom they may like to write. We all know how important a letter from home is to a soldier. No matter how unimportant your news may sound to you it is interesting to him nevertheless. News of in- cidents and people at home is of the most importance to the morale of our boys. So don’t disappoint them. Write and write often. ARMY and NAVY: Pvt. Richard J. May, A.S.N. 32855626, 710th Training Group. Atlantic City, New Jersey: Pvt. Austin Perry, Co. A 749 Tank Bn. (M), Camp Bowie, Texas; Pvt. Thomas Harring- ton. No. 32851347 Btry C , 13th Bn Bldg 1218, Fort Eustis, Va.: James Alger S 2c, Unit L 12 O.G.V.. Upper U. S. N. SS.. Sampson, N. Y.; Pvt. Fred Hall, Co ”D 303 Md. Bn., APO No. 78, Camp Butner, N. C.: Pvt. Milford Gates, A2 MRTC Bks. 1422, Camp Pickitt, Va.; CpI. Ray Haskell, Co. C 749 tk Bn (M), Camp Bowie, Texas; Pvt. Arnold Burch, 91 Signal Co., APO 91 Bks., Camp White, Oregon; P.F.C. Charles Parker, 2nd P, Walabird O.M.D., Baltimore, Md. EXCHANGES Warrensburg Central School Warrensburg, New York May 21, 1943 Fellow Exchange-Editors, Because this is the last issue of the HI-ROCK for this year, 1942-1943, we want to thank all the schools who have sent their papers to us. Your cooperation in criticizing our paper has been very valuable to us, as we have been able to correct our mistakes by your suggestions. Throughout the year we have noticed a great improvement in your papers. We are looking forward to exchanging with you next year and we hope the cooperation will be as good as it has been this year. Best wishes Miriam E. Reynolds '43 Scarlet and White— Your editorials and features are very interesting. We think your cover is swell. Echo— The school news section appealed to us. The stories in the literature section were grand. Lake George Prospect— Your paper is very neat. The poem There Go The Seniors is very original. Your sport section was great! How about another staple? South Hi-Lites— The section on education is good. Oh! What a swell page on posture. Cardinal— We all thought your sports section was dandy. Your story Lost on a Cloud, was very fascinating. Warrior— Your articles on spring are very clever. The ideas in the article, Study Hall were grand and should produce results. LET IT GO Anne: Did you hear the story about the red hot coal? Stan: No. Anne: I don't think you would grasp it.