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Show f Friday, December 18, 1942 SOUTH HIGH SCRIBE Jage Three With a sigh, Gustaf Ingals -- pulled the curtain across his window, shutting out the moon-light which flooded the little cabin. He felt blindly for his little lamp it should be on the table ah, yes, he had it now. With frost cracked fingers he struck a match, lit the wick, and the small room was illumined with a feeble, timid light. On the table sat his supper, prepared beforehand and covered by a napkin. Gustaf was"' very systematic in the matter of his supper. It was always fully prepared before he went outside to see that all was right with his small fishing boat and his trees. He felt more attached to his trees than to any human being, now. They had been the only guests at the party when Gustaf brought his new bride, Anna, to the cabin, and had laughed, in their quiet way, to see two such happy people. Later they had whis-pered fairy tales to young Peter. Not so long ago, they wept with Gustaf when Anna had been taken forever. i Willi Will lllll I. I III II HI, , could see the stars poking- - their heads through the black ceiling of the sky. Anna had loved nights like this. Anna, whose frail body could not stand the grief placed upon it by their only son's death. Indeed, she had out- - lived young Peter by only a month. Gustaf told the trees of his sorrows and loneliness and they sympathized with gentle, windy sighs. "If I could have just one Christmas gift," he told them, "1 would have I would have the life of every German on Nor-wegian soil." Gustaf could think of nothing else that he would want or need. They had been the cause of all his grief. If all of them-wer- e removed, pe-ople would again have a real Christmas, not this mockery of one. The trees whispered among themselves, planning and plot-ting, it seemed to Gustaf. In the meantime, the little lamp, tied to one of the long tree branches, swung back and forth in the wind. High above, the pilot of a Ger-man bomber saw the tiny speck of light among the trees and de-cided that it demanded immedi-ate attention. Huddled on the bench, the lder man listened to the steady descent of the plane and wondered. Planes had flown over many times before, but never this low. As the winged monster dropped nearer to the ground, the very earth trembled with the vibrations of the mighty motors. And then, maybe Gustaf's weary eyes flickered for an in-stant, or perhaps just the shad-ow of a swaying branch fell across them, but Gustaf will al-ways swear that as surely as he sat there, the great trees reached up and grasped the plane in their green grip, and, with a roar of ripping metal, catapulted the huge thing over the little clear-ing and the cabin into the deep fiord beyond. The people who came from the near-b-y village claimed that the plane, lured by the gleam of Gustaf's lamp, cir-cled too low and hit the trees accidentally. He never told the villagers his version of the story. He had a feeling that they wouldn't have believed him, anyway. Indeed, who would have not called him mad if they had been told that .he, Gustaf Ingals, hadbeen giv-en the gift of a German bomber and the crew, and by the trees that grew around his cabin! So he told no one. But he and his trees knew that it was a gift, a Christmas gift, and just the thing he had asked for. away, Huge trees they were, and to-night they looked almost like brightly decorated Christmas trees. The snow that sparkled on ' their broad branches re-minded him of the tinsel his mother used to spread on the heavily burdened Christmas tree remembered. The snow, spar-kling in the moonlight, seemed to be the only decoration which the cursed Nazis could not con-demn nor forbid. Gustaf was in deep thought as he pulled out his chair and settled himself at the table. This was Christmas eve, the second Christmas which he had spent alone. Young Peter had gone to the bottom of the Baltic in a torpedoed ship just two years ago. Gustaf finished the last small piece of cheese and then in his slow, methodical way, he rose, cleared the table, and scoured his dishes till they shown with a luster which would thrill any conscientious house-wife. He carefully, lit his long pipe with a splinter from the fire. "Christmas eve," he mused aloud, "Christmas eve, with no party, no friends, no country, no family " His voice wavered un-certainly. "Tears will not help. Norway was not built by tears, and it will not be revenged by tears. I'm just one man among many. My family is not the only one broken by the Nazi pigs. It's just that I'm lonely. If I only could talk to someone who would understand or just listen!" Suddenly he rose. He had a plan, a crazy plan, perhaps, but it would help (him to forget that he was alone on Christmas eve. He hurriedly bundled himself in his warmest clothes and banked the small fire on the hearth. Then, picking up the lamp, lie quietly stepped outside and closed the 'door. He was going to his trees. They would under-stand his loneliness and share the burning hate of the con-quering invaders who .had taken almost his entire purpose of liv-ing, the things he cared for most. Perhaps the fresh, chilling air would remind him of Christmas carols and perhaps there his soul could find the peace which all Christian peoples should feel on the morrow. He went to the largest tree. There was a narrow bench built around it. He would sit there. He settled himself on the side most sheltered from the wind. Far up through the needles he ffirit 0r-4g-e 0oern s I 5 By Bob Layton This Christmas morn", as you arise To see what Santa' brought. Please, stop and think, despite your joy, Of those whom he forgot. For there are folks in many lands, . Whom he will never find. They're slaves beneath the tyrants' bands, And crushed in soul and mind. So think of these, I ask you, please, , And then 'twill be no strain, - To work with all your heart and soul, That peace again may reign. Honorable Mention Poccm of Kirk Brimley Tis Christmas Eve, the lights are low, And all the earth is white with snow. The tall green -- pines stand firm and white, And the blue skies glow with heaven's light. Once grassy fields are cold and chill, And flower beds lay smooth and still, White rooftops shine in the moon's soft beams; It is a different world it seems. Across the seas, this very night, Another people starve nnc! fight And die to keep their country free; And all to give us liberty. Their snow is not the .cold. clean white It may have been the previous night, 'Tis trampled down, and red with blood And close at hand is the can-non's dull thud. Though free men starve and fight and die, Their country's flag shall al-ways fly, A symbol of the liberty Which they preserve for you and me. Soon ere their hopes of free-dom perish, And they their country cease to cherish, The reddened snows shall turn to white And skies will glow with heaven's light. "Peace on earth good will to-ward men." Shall be the reigning power again. Love and peace at Christmas tide Will once again become world-wide. . . . Happy New Year Second Prize Poem by Elaine Javvis I hear the tinkle of sleigh bells, And hoof beats in the snow, It brings to mind the Christ-mase- s - We had long, long ago. I hear gay bursts of laughter, It echoes loud and clear, A song or two comes after, The Yuletide spirit's here! While we sigh at the rubber state, They find a way to move, They fly along at a merry rate, Their runners sharp and smooth. It's much more fun to ride this way, The snow is smooth as glass, Besides, they don't yet ration hay, And Nelly needs no gas. Merry Christmas . . . Glljrfetntas Every year about the same time (December 23, to be exact)" I find myself being pushed about from one store to another. Ouch! Oh, pardon me. I'm very sorry, madam . . . you see . . . she must be in a hurry I beg your pardon. Wefl, here I am. I guess I asked for it, too. Pardon me, please. "Do your Christmas shopping early," the man said. Who listened to him, anyway? Not I, nor anyone else, it seems. When will people ever learn to take the advice of others'.' Oh, I am very sorry, lady, but I was just trying to get into this store. Oh, you are, too? Well, why don't we just push along together? That worked very nicely. Now that I am in the store, what do I want ? Let me see now a- - purse for mom. I wonder where the purse cou-nter is. . . . I, wonder where a counter is, period. Oh, I see one . . . woops, wrong one. Could you tell me where the purses are ? Qh, that is what you would like to know? Well, when I find them I shall come back and telL you. (Ha, ha, that is what she thinks.) For goodness sakes! Look what I found. Here are the purses, and there is just the one I want. . . . But lady, I didn't know you wanted it, too. . . . Why don't we just quietly draw straws for it? Hmnnn, I wonder why she left in such a hurry. She looked so angry, too. . . . Oh, I had forgotten how beautiful Christmas carols were. I could stand here and listen to them all night. Ah, Christmas! It . . . but officer, 1 didn't mean to block traffic. I was just lis-tening to those Christmas carols that made me. Oh, yes, sir. Right away, sir! Well, back to realization. Let me see, now. For whom do I h.a.v.e to get presents? Oh, yes. I have to buy something for my sister. What shall I get her? Oh, here is a bookstore. She is really quite the bookworm, anyway ... so I might as well go in and see what they have. Oh, dear, what made me come in here? There were less peo-ple on the street. Now, what would she like to read? This is quite a perplexing problem. Here is "Christines' Candy Cookbook." No, that wouldn't do. She isn't the domestic type. "Arbitrary Annabella" sounds a little better. How about "Harriet Hakelbury at Holly House"? My sister is really the outdoor type, so she might enjoy "Majestic Moun-tains and Mole Hills." This could go on forever. So I shall take this one . . . "Murder in the Morgue." She really enjoys mys-teries. Where do I go from here, I wonder. Oh, hello, Gertrude! Are you going home? Oh, you say you have loads and loads of pres-ents to buy yet? Well, I have an excellent idea. Why don't we go home now and come back to-morrow? Tomorrow is only the 24th, and we can get everything then. OK? OK! . Serena rrtyv (jliay As the old year rolls on, and the new one is about to enter, we pause long enough to won-der about and enjoy the yuletide holidays. This year Christmas will not be the same as it was last year. Yes, it is true that we were in war, but most of our boys were home to enjoy Christmas with us. This year over half of our boys are away serving the coun-try in some far-of- f land where love and peace are not an ideal. This year as we walk through the streets, we will not see many wreaths of holly at doors and windows. We shall see stars of red, blue, silver and even gold dotting the panes. These stars tell us there is someone gone from that home. It may be fa-ther or a son, and when we see a gold star we know that some mother has given her son for the cause of freedom, for which we are now fighting. When these boys were young their mother's did not plan and dream that some day their boy would shoulder a gun. No, they had great plans. They dreamed of the education they could have, of the great things they could do, and now that same boy is away in some war-tor- n country across the sea. Although the boys are away this Christmas and families are broken up, we must not look back over the rough road we have passed upon; we must look to the future and have hope and cherish our love for another be-cause we know and are assured that by doing these things we will see bright days ahead. Perhaps next Christmas the war will be over and the boys will be home, and if it is not, we must still look into the future and watch for that day to come, when we can enjoy a Christmas with the boys, a Christmas at Peace. ffirit 0riye (ay ffrit $f $mt It is very difficult this year Co get the spirit of Christmas be-cause the war. We have had many disappointments and losses to dampen our enthusiasm. How-ever, we must not let the situa-tion master us; we must master it. We Americans have always had the reputation of never be-ing heaten so badly that we could not rise again and cairy on. We cannot spoil that repu-tation now by failing to take heart in Christmas. The rest of the world is watching us to see if we can "take it." Let us show them we can! We do not need to display tin-sel and glitter or buy many gifts to show we are carrying on the Christmas tradition. There is no need to give expensive, im-practical presents to prove our feelings are the same as ever. In fact, the wiser person will use his Christmas funds for buy ing stamps and bonds to accom-plish the real job, and give in-expensive, useful gifts. The com-mercialism of the Ghristmases gone by may well be forgotten for the more genuine spirit of "Peace on Earth, Good Will To-ward Men," which we are fight-ing for. Christmas should mean more to us this year than ever be-fore. Our boys are struggling valiantly to preserve the princi-ples of freedom and justice which He gave us. We must give them courage and inspira-tion to win by showing them we have not given up. They are fighting for the ideals of Christ-mas, so we must observe Christ-mas to show them that those ideals still mean everything to us. Let us all keep in our hearts the spirit of Christmas and the determination to win. |