Westbrook High School - Blue and White Yearbook (Westbrook, ME)

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uf 11315 QOYLLXLOJ 2. Q 6105 941956 tugfouifbom it RUBY VALLEJE

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VV If w 20 ,ll ifv! Finally, he stopped near the river, and sat on a convenient stone. He breathed raspingly for a few minutes, completely exhausted. What had he done? He'd-he'd-killed Paul! But Paul was his best friend-his best friend-. He repeated this stupidly. Suddenly, he stood up and flung the knife far out into the water. Then, turning the way he had come, he began to walk, slowly and wearily. He must make amends. How, he did not know, but he must. He had never really hated Paul, he knew that now. These thoughts ran through his troubled mind until he came again to the entrance of the alley. He stopped, then walked hesitatingly in. Paul lay as he had left him, on his back, his pale face illu- mined by a ghostly street lamp which was feebly trying to pierce the night. A sudden flurry of wind lifted Paul's coat lapel, and Carl saw a great tear over the heart. He cried out chokingly and, as he did so, Paul moaned faintly. Carl cowered and shivered, then, hope flaming, he knelt and listened to Paul's heart. It was beating. When Paul was able to talk, he told Carl about it. Someone tried to knife me, Carl. I hit my head on the wall as I fell, and it stunned me. That was a close call, Paul. How come this- this person didn't get you ?'l This was in my coat pocket. Stopped the knife, I guess. Paul held out his hand. In it was a dented silver cigarette case. Carl arose. Come on, I'll help you home, he said. EVERY MAN FOR HIMSELF P. JOHNSON, '39 The man in the trench cursed the war as he gazed over the barricade. It was always the same scene out there: the star shells with their eerie light at night always revealed the same things. You always saw the barbed wire entanglements, the naked and broken tree trunks, and the ground torn up by the high explosives-for this was war. War with its hate, pestilence, and fear. War with its carnage and mud. Mud !-It was everywhere! They slept in it, they ate it in their food, they worked in it, and they died in it. It rained con- tinually as though the Heavens wept to behold the tragic foolishness of humanity. A bit of sunshine would have been a godsend to these men, whose bodies and spirits were so dampened that their souls were shrunk within them. VVilliam Vanner philosophized a bit as he looked down the length of the trench and recog- nized the various silhouettes outlined against the murky light. They were a well-mixed group: Irish, jews, Scotch and Negroes. There were five of the latter and he had grown to admire them during the weeks they had been on the front to- gether. They were fine singers, and often they had brightened the gloom with their harmonious voices, accompanied by the company violinist, Arnold Carpentar. Strange fellow, this Carpentar. Bill had heard that he was drafted just as he was reaching the height of a fine career as a concert violinist. He was an odd chap, never seeming to join the others in the comradeship. That comradeship was going to be sadly dis- rupted now, Venner feared, for the orders had come up for the company to attack at 5.10 A. M. this morning. The officer in charge had told them that it was every man for himself, an announce- ment which made the whole thing practically a death warrant. The hour had come, and in the few minutes left, these men were experiencing the extreme nausea that only fear can cause. These men were not cowards, they were not hysterical. They were not afraid to die, but behind their ashen grey faces their thoughts were much the same. Death itself did not impress these men greatly, but the thing that frightened them was how they would be hit. Theirs was a fear of that interval between the time they were struck and when they died. Bill Vanner was praying that his might be the easy way-in the head, where all would end in one long, blinding flash. Then it happened. VV ith a crash that split their ears the big guns began their concerted tiring under which the company was to advance. They went up and over. They ran across the muddy flats toward the section of enemy entrenchments that were their objective. Then, one by one, they

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,W H K w 1 22 AADT: KST! began to stumble and fall. More went down, and now the few that had survived were crawling on their bellies as Bill was doing. They had reached that part of their orders that read, f'Every man for himselff' Their attack had failed before it was hardly started. Another move in this chess game of war was ending in a forfeiture. After an eternity Bill fell into a shell hole that was deep enough to conceal him. He flung him- self into the mucky bottom and wept for joyg he had been granted a few minutes' reprieve. Look- ing up he discovered another khaki uniformed body lying beside him, its owner mouthing vicious oaths as he nursed his bloody left hand. At almost the same instant the other looked up and saw Vanner. It was Carpentar, the violinist. MSO glad to see you. Won't you come in and sit down? It's only a small place I have here, but I'll try to make you comfortable. Carpentar smirked. f'Thanks, old chap, awfully nice of you to invite me in this way. Dastardly weather outside, Van- ner responded and then added more seriously, You've been hit. Can I help ? I cut my hand on a strip of that wire we've got strung up around our little garden out there. Nothing but a flesh wound, but it scared me at first. You know what the loss of a hand would do to me. Ruin my career, and I don't give a tinker's damn for life without my career.', Vifhen the scream of a shell had died away, Carpentar added, 'It looks as though this might turn into a week-end party. ' We'll have to hole up here until it gets dark. I think we can sneak back after nightfall without being picked off, Vanner advised 5 and they settled to wait for the protecting blanket of dark- ness to be drawn over them. They grew to know each other quite well in the long day they spent in the cramped quarters of their refuge. Finally night fell, and there came a lull in the skirmishing. They crept quickly out of their hole. They rose to their feet and ran across the muddy, body-strewn ground. A sniper in the enemy trenches spied them, and blazed out at them. They threw themselves to the ground and waited. Carpentar started to rise again, when suddenly, earth, heaven, and hell blazed forth in crescendo of flame, sound, and flying shells. 'Their own artillery had started a barrage which was falling short, and they were trapped in it. So this was their welcome home reception. Well, there was nothing to do but make yourself as small as pos- sible and pray, and this they did diligently. In the trenches, despite the noise of the guns, hilarity, which was the aftermath of the morn- ing's tension, reigned. A commotion down the line soon drew attention, however. The news came up that Vanner and Carpentar, the two that had been among the many missing at roll call, had been trapped in the barrage, and the word said that Vanner had staggered in carrying Carpentar, who was badly wounded. Two weeks later, a nurse aroused Carpentar from his lethargy to inform him he had a visitor. l'How are you, Arnold ? Vanner ventured. You know damned well how I am, curtly replied the man in the bed. 'Tm sorry to talk this way to the man who saved my life. But I've de- cided I don't owe you a great deal at that. I'm ruined, my career stolen from nie. All I'd dreamed and planned was taken from me when they amputated my arm. What good is that life you saved going to do me, now F Oh, you'll get along all right, Arnold. There are plenty of others going back in the same condi- tion. I'm sincerely sorry about your career. Sorry!-Sorry about my career! Huh, why didnlt you think of that when you saw me hit? NVhat did you trouble yourself to bring me back for when you knew I'd have to face life like this? No! I don't owe you a thing, you brought me back to a life of dependence on others. And be- sides, who are you to talk? You're all whole. You haven't lost any of your limbs. All you got for your trouble was a good scare. With that Carpentar turned his face to the wall, silently informing Vanner that his sympathy was not desired. 'Others can overcome handicaps, so can you, Arnold, but if that's the way you feel I'll go. Will you ring for the nurse F Vanner asked.