Willard Middle School - Target Yearbook (Berkeley, CA)

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THE TARGET You Never Can Tell 13 The way some of these fellows pull down fat Y. M. C. A. jobs, and leave the fighting to us, gets on my nerves, complained Jimmy Bur- nett, a young, inexperienced aviator who had just finished his training course. For instance that fellow Craig down at the hut. Why isn ' t he fighting, I ' d like to know, he ' s a husky looking young fellow. The next day Burnett made his first battle flight. He managed to keep his place in the patrol till they met some thick clouds, when he became hopelessly lost. While he was flying aimlessly, trying to get his bearings, he heard the popping of a gun behind him, and felt a stinging pain in his shoulder. It was a Ger- man plane which had slipped up behind him. He turned his ma- chine, darted toward his opponent, and was able to chase him away, because, although he did not re- alize it, he was in French territory, and the Boche wasn ' t taking too many chances. Then his shoulder began to hurt him terribly, and it was all he could do to make a landing before falling into un- consciousness. When he opened his eyes he saw that he was in a hospital, and that Craig, the Y man, was at his bed- side. What happened? he asked weak- ly. Well, replied Craig, you landed right by a road that was being shelled, a pretty hot place. I had happened to see you fall, so I got an ambulance driver to take me up as close as he could get. Then I crawled over to you, started your machine, and flew back in it. You see I ' d had a little experience as an aviator in the Royal Flying Corps, but I got shot up, and now I have only one good lung, so they won ' t let me fight. Say, you aren ' t the same Craig as the British ace who brought down four Germans in his last fight, and then was invalided home. Yeh, I guess I ' m the fellow you mean. Well, I ' ll have to be running along, but I ' ll be around again to- morrow, and he went out, followed by the awe-stricken gaze of a young, now very humble, flyer. CURTIS WRIGHT. PALS. Pat O ' Brien was mushing his way to Dawson as fast as his team of seven dogs could travel. Pat was the trailer for the Northwest Mount- ed Police, and was on one of his greatest cases. He had heard from the miner with whom he had spent the night that the United States had declared war on Germany. At Dis- covery Pup of Hunker Creek he saw a notice asking all Americans to en- list. Pat was a loyal American, al- though he was not a native-born citizen. When he reached headquarters he was undecided whether to resign from the police and enlist with the Americans at Forty-mile or to joins the Canucks. It was not left for Pat to decide that question for him- self. As a member of the North- west Mounted Police he was under miltary rule, and was subject to or- ders to report for duty anywhere his government might assign him. Consequently he received immediate notice to go to France with the men

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12 THE TARGET The Spirit That W ms It was black night in Flanders. In a dugout of the first line trenches a group of men were huddled. It was useless to think of sleeping. Mars alone could rest through the mighty thunder of a thousand can- non. The men sat in silence, some with their faces supported in their hands, others idly chopping up pieces of wood with their bayonets, while some stood looking with unseeing eyes at the little candle that flicker- ed to and fro at every discharge of the guns. All were thinking, think- ing of home and the dear ones whom they might never see again, for on the morrow they were to go over the top at the Germans. This meant death for many. Suddenly a shell burst close to the dugout; some of the men started and looked up but none spoke. Pres- ently a little Australian, who had left home, country, and sweetheart to fight the Hun, got up, walked over to thh candle, watched it for awhile, and then said, Men, when I enlisted I expected to fight and per- haps be wounded for the cause, but I did not realize that I might have to lay down my life before the war god ' s throne. Tonight I have thought a long while, for I feel that this is my last night. I have asked myself, ' Is it worth it? ' I have an- swered that question, ' It is. ' The Allies are fighting for all that ' s right against all that is wrong, and fellows, we ' re bound to win, and when we do, it will be the dawn of a new day. A day when Right shall stand forever over Alight, when war will be abolshed, when man shall eternally be friends with his fellow men. So we who die beating down the Hun will not die in vain. sj: s{c i£ sjc sjc s|c %z ' s}c sje sj; :jc It was after the battle. The Eng- lish had attacked and crumpled the German line. A stretcher bearer stopped by the body of a fallen hero and stooping over took from his hand a crumpled piece of paper. On the paper were written those lines which have made all who have read them wonder as to their origin. Here they are: Ye who have faith to look with fearless eyes Upon the tragedy of a world at strife And know that out of night and death shall rise An ampler life Rejoice, whatever anguish rend thy heart, That God has given you the price- less dower To live in this great time and play your part In freedom ' s crowning hour. That ye may tell your sons, who see the light High in the Heavens their heritage to take, T saw the powers of darkness put to flight, I saw the morning break ' . ADOLPHUS CHEEK. Our poorest rations, Luxuries of other nations.

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14 THE TARGET who were to leave on the following day. As Jack, the leader was his own property, he asked permission of the officer in command to take his pet along. This was granted. After weeks of training Pat ' s com- pany was order to take its position beside the veterans of France. Bark- ing joyfully at his master ' s heels came Jack, the mascot of the com- pany. Within a few months every man was eager to take Jack over the top with him, because he was a great help to his trooper friend. With his keen scent he was far more successful in routing a con- cealed Hun than the soldiers them- selves. Once, when Pat was trying to re- turn to his company from which he had been separated, he was stop- ped by two Germans. He called to Jack who was close by to get one, while he made a lunge at the other. Pat easily killed his man, but poor Jack, flying at the throat of the other, was pierced by the cold steel of the Prussian ' s trench knife. Pat ' s Irish blood boiled at the sight of his plucky little pet, and with one powerful blow with the butt of his pistol he killed the Hun. Pat car- ried his dead little pal back to camp where he was buried with all the honors of a soldier killed in action. NORTH YOUNKINS. THE SONG OF THE POTATOES Plant us, Grow us, Sow us, Please ! We are good to eat! And we ' re really truly good As a substitute for wheat! CLARA HOFF. THE SEA. The sea, the sea, the wild, wild sea, Thou art free, thou art ever free! So far beneath that cold, dark sky, Against steep cliffs, thy waves dash high. Down underneath those dark green waves, Down underneath those rocky caves Stretch far and wide, thy endless wastes, Where seaweeds grow, all interlaced. The sea, the sea, the wild, wild sea, Thou art free, thou art ever free! ROBERTA HAYNES. AN ORIENTAL SURPRISE. The air was hot and heavy, a dark cloud was settling around Kioto, and the lights of the uchi through the fog gleamed like fire-flies. The heat drove me into the street and I called for a ricksha, thinking to cool myself with a short ride. Where to? inquired my coolie. Anywhere! Anywhere! from this terrible heat! I answered impatient- ly. And so he set out at a quick pace, and soon we were plunged into darkness. I began to be alarmed for I had not been in Kioto long, and was not acquainted with its many winding streets. Within a few moments, however, I saw the lights of Hongawnji Temple ahead and felt relieved, as I knew he would stop there to rest in the gardens. But no, he did not stop, and again we were in darkness. Being now thoroughly frightened I call for him to stop. But to my utter dismay he merely quickened his pace. Now all was silent except the patter, patter of his soft kutsu.