Woodstock Collegiate Institute - Oracle Yearbook (Woodstock, Ontario Canada)

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ent to strike at. Travelling faster than sound. Invisible to the naked eye. Inaudible to the ear. What could we do? Our only hope lies in preventing even the most remote in- ception of war by supporting all world peace organizations to the limit. -Bob Ackmcm. 13A- Reflections Of An Army Nurse Dawn was breaking in a rosy glow as we poked our tousled heads from our tent on a battlefield in France. We Ctwo other army nurses and IJ had arrived the night before by troop transport. We were the first Canadian girls to reach the front, and there was much to be done. As the guns over the hills were barking, I knew that before many hours the homesick and weary casualties would be brought to us. We had been issued khaki Coveralls, regulation boots, and steel helmets Cwhich we used for wash basinsl, and as I pulled on my boots over my heavy wool socks, I prayed that we might help some boys to life and love again that day. I know that the other girls prayed too, for I saw dark- haired Ieanette cross herself and murmur a few words as she stepped from the tent. Within half an hour a lad of nineteen was brought to us. Wounded in the leg by sniper bullets, he was sobbing heart--brok- enly as the orderlies carried him into my tent. On asking if the pain was very bad I received the reply, No, but we're advancing and l'm going to be left behind. I gave him morphine and then began to dress the wound. As his leg had a compound frac- ture, I knew that he needed immediate hos- pital care: so I listed him as one of the first to return to England. Then I gave him a cig- arette, and as I left I heard him say to the picture of a teen-ager he held in his hand, I'm afraid we can't go skating this year, but maybe next winter, Sis. All day long the casualties poured into camp, and We worked mechanically, with tears in our eyes and lumps in our throats, caring for them. At five-thirty a hospital' orderly told us to prepare the most serious cases for the trip to England. The Hospital Transport, Twenty-Eight which had landed on the strip at Nantes, would be ready to leave in two hours. As I strapped a tow-headed youngster onto a strecher for the short ride in the lorry, which would take him to the strip, he grinned at me and said, You know, Sister, this is the first time that I have called a girl 'sister' without having my face slapped. Even while pain was wracking his body, he could exchange a joke with his buddies and me. When the soldiers had all been loaded into the plane, I obtained permission from the CO. to step in and make sure they were all comfortable. As I passed number I4 a young boy grasped my hand and whispered, Please, Sister, kiss me before you go. You see, I can read a medical chart and I know that I may not last long. I-Iow could I re- fuse his plea? It seemed the least I could do for him who had risked his life for me. I have many other memories of my life as an army nurse, but my first day in France is the most vivid of them all. Donna Dawson l2A Cupitimidit'y February fourteenth tSt. Valentine's Day to youl lies in wait just around the corner. It is, literally, the only red letter day in the year. A day set aside for the young in heart though old in body. No matter how old or how youthful you are, this is one chance to show your affection for that certain some- one. Ture, some foul, villainous fellow, how- ever, takes this opportunity to take a dig at 'someone he dislikes. St. Valentine's Day is a fine opportunity for the easily embarrassed to take their heart in their hands and pass it along. For the more dashing, particularly a practical joker, 'tis a chance not to be denied. Im- agine the confusion one could create with a few innocent f?l valentines. Whether your intentions are honourable, or if you are just curious, now is the time to see who is chas- ing whom. Then there is the person who fools us all. His name is anonymous. To the business man, Valentines Day is a golden opportunity. Though your valentine may cost five cents or five dollars, he must make enough money to last the rest of the year. But shux Valentir1e's day comes but THE ORACLE

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instance, I formerly studied physics and chemistry simultaneously, instead of in sep- arate years. Here our annual field day is held in the autumn, but in my last school we held ours in May and had a May Queen cor- onation as part of that day's activities. Woodstock although a small city, is an ideal place in which to live. Woodstock Collegiate Institute is one of the best schools that I have attended and I hope to continue my education here until I graduate. Chiyoka Takeda 12A The Robot Bomb On the night of Iune 12, 1944, a lookout on the south coast of England heard a sound like a distant motorcycle engine. Looking up, he saw what appeared to be a small aeroplane with its tail on fire, coming inland at high speed and at a low level. This was the first appearance on the stage of history of the robot bomb, the weapon of the next war. The rocket, like many so called inven- tions, is not new to war. The ingenious Chinese used it centuries ago, and its use by the British in the Napoleonic Wars and the War of 1812 has been immortalized in the line, by the rocket's red glare . Warfare is a thing of which we are not proud. It is a stigma on our civilization. Nevertheless, warfare is a time of stimulated advance in many fields. This has been par- ticularly true of the field of science in the war just ended. Radar, new drugs, the full real- ization of the potentialties of the aeroplane, and many other things are a beneficial legacy to coming generations. The roots of all these forward steps lie back in the days of peace, and among them was the germ of the ideas embodied by the Germans in the robot bombs. Even before Buck Rogers and Flash Gordon , men speculated on the possibility of travel through the solar system. To this end, International Rocket societies were organized. The German government has always fostered scientific research and it carefully encouraged developments in the field of rockets. The Germans concentrated all their researches on the isolated Baltic is- land of Peenemunde. When war broke out in 1939, the Germans had advanced far THE ORACLE enough in this field for Hitler to boast of his secret weapon . Now the British were not altogether in the dark as to this secret weapon and soon discovered by good fortune and patient re- conaissence, the base at Peenemunde. It was decided that this viper's nest must be destroyed at all costs, and accordingly, on the night of August 17, 1943, 500 R. A. F. bombers devastated the island. Most of the technicians and scientists were killed and much of the models, equipment and data were destroyed. This single blow set back German research six months, and saved Britain as an invasion base for D-Day. British Intelligence kept the Allied Su- preme Command informed of German pro- gress, and even before the first bomb was launched against London, a great decision had been made. Rather than set forward D-day enough to capture the launching sites on the French coast before the Ger- mans could use them, it was decided to sac- rifice the city of London. As is was, constant Allied Air attacks, excellent defences, and Montgomery's breakthrough in Normandy, spearpointed by Canadians, combined to save London. The V-1, or buzz-bomb, was not a true rocket, and had only a limited range. Its successor, the V-2, was a true rocket and at the end of the war the Germans were almost ready to launch the mightly V-10 against North America. To those who say, it can't happen here note the following. On March 19, 1945, six U-boats put out to sea. They planned to launch robot-bomb attacks against the Atlantic Seaboard. Fortunately, concentrated efforts disposed of them all be- fore they could do their work. German scien- tists said that in six months they could have been bombarding America with the terrible V-10, enhanced by their own development of the Atomic Bomb. The next war, and we pray there will not be one, may be a Hpushbutton war . Buried deep in underground burrows, men will launch super rocket-bombs against each other. One such bomb may lay waste a whole city the size of Detroit. Defences? Radar could give only thirty minutes warn- ing of a bomb launched against us from across the Atlantic. A whole broad contin- Twenty-Seven

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once a year, and it is a splendid opportunity heart-strings. The fellow who really suffers to loosen your purse strings as well as your is the post-man. His motto must be, Through rain, snow, and St. Valentine's day, the mail must go through. If your heart yearns to someone all ready escorted-remember, all's fair in love and war. Now is a good opportunity to muscle . That is, provided you are ready to pay he consequences-a box of candy or a small piece of beef steak for your eye. Yes! The Blitz of Bliss is just around the corner, so grab your beaux and arrows and watch your aim. One word of warning- Heaven help the man who sends a valentine to my gal! ' Neil Gloin, 13A On Skating The air was crisp, and biting cold, The ice was thick and strong: . As usual, I tried to skate, The sport l've envied long. With gallant heart and beating pulse, My skates I did pull on. But once I got upon the ice My spirit-it was gone. I bent this way, I tottered that, I fear I was a sight: But bravely I kept lurching on, Nor gave heed to my plight. As other skaters passed me by With long and graceful strides, It really was not pleasant For anyone with pride. For over in one corner, They were doing the Figure Eighty But even with their training They could not match my gait. My tumbles-they were numerous, Not one, but nearer ten. Falling doesn't help morale- Whoops! there I go again! Thus, aching feet I torture, And heart I fill with fear. But yet, on skates you'll see me, As usual, next year. Doris Matheson 13B THE ORACLE A Friday Before Nine Last Friday morning I fell out of bed with ringing in my ears. I my mother's voice wasn't the least big eager to get out of bed, but that is the same old feeling I have every morning. After that everything went wrong. I couldn't find a pair of blue socks, which I had to have because I was wearing my blue sweater. My mother said nobody would look at my feet anyway but of course I knew they would. Parents can be so juvenile at times! When I arrived downstairs for break- fast, my mother was running around like a fire engine. She had discovered that the storm, early that morning, had stopped the electric clock. My brother lack was looking at his Boy Scout Handbookn' to see what time it was according to the sun. But I don't have much faith in the Boy Scout Handbook , to say nothing of my brother. He finally said it was between eight and nine o'clock, which naturally helped a lot. I gulped down my breakfast, gathered my books from the hall table, put on my coat, and stumbled out of the house. It was raining! I banged on the door until my moth- er finally opened it. I dashed in, ran to the closet and looked about for my umbrella. Of course, I couldn't find it: so I at once be- gan yelling, Where's my umbrella? Moth- er didn't know. I clinched my fists, gnashed my teeth, and wished I lived on a desert island. By this time my twin brother was coming down the stairs. He is an awful pest at times. He said he knew where it was, but I'd have to find it for myself. I couldn't control myself any longer, and I let off steam by pounding him on the chest. lust at this crucial moment my mother interrupted by handing me my umbrella, which she had found under my books on my desk. She ad- ded that I'd better hurry. I did. I decided it must be late because there was nobody on the street. By the time I arrived at school, after having run all the way, my hair looked like a dry mop, and I was puffing away like a steam-engine. I rushed up the stairs to my locker. Every thing was as dead as a tomb. Not that I have ever been in one, but I don't see how a tomb could be noisy. I looked through the window of a classroom. No- body there! I looked into another one. No- Twenty-Nine