Here at Briggs while you are reading this article, 135 singing WAVES are revelling in the newest words to an old familiar song: "IN ONE MORE WEEK AND NO MORE DAYS we'll be out of the callaboose--and though you won't believe it, mates, they're going to turn us loose." Hupping days are almost over, and with an occasional wistful glance backward at the happy fun we've had in these parts and the gang joys of an NTS, we pursue the pressing activities of the hour: places of artistic, marine, and Early American flavor, neglected in past weeks for studies in modern leather and-chrome interiors, must be visited; white suits must be retrieved from the shambles of the fitting room; that last carton of cigarettes to last through leave (if any) must be ordered from Ship's Service and paid for on the spot; once again those Pullman and airline reservations must be checked on; and weighty decisions must be made as to the expending of the balance in the Slush Fund. For a while it looked as if the Hotel Commander should be presented a new national ensign from this money, especially because at this point in the morning march the company usually swings into "It's a Grand Old Flag." We are gratified to not that the Commander broke out a new one for Memorial Day.
Away We Go!
Time enough to pay dry-cleaning bills and to wonder whittler we will miss the 2300 "All-Secure" and the delicious moment of tumbling back into the lower bunk after the matey has dragged "All Feet on Deck" at 0645... and that crush at the mailboxes with at least fifty witness to the fact that you got six letters and a package and it wasn't your birthday...and the armed foroes we are leaving behind us... Now don't let us get mellow. time enough for that, too, when celebrating our WAVE wedding on June 9 when Ensign Jean Colgate becomes Mrs. Lt. (ig) Charles Stafford, and at our, Anchors Aweigh Soiree the night before we shove off. So its Hedzup! and eyexs front toward ports now unknown.
Softball Game Scheduled
Bilets--and not billets doux--are the major excitement. From the little that has been bruited about, the West-coasters are condemning the Navy as a system for reducing the population of the state of California and the East-coasters are dreading assignment to dry-dock. But new pins will be stuck in the map in the cabin of the good ship Briggs by the time this paper goes to press. The beans (and the tears) will be spilled after the third disbursers vs. suppliers softball game scheduled for June 2. The winning team, and according to previous scores it should be the disbursers, will hear billets read first, while the suspense of the opponents will remain unbroken for an other 24 hours. Cruel, ain't it?
Give Us Sunshine
Before leaving we hope the elements will be kind enough to prove to the southerners among us that Longfellow, Whittier, and those boys, really had something to rejoice over in the coming of a New England spring. The nice rainless days will undoubtedly occur when there are no student officers at Briggs. But that's all right; we want Ensigns Gaertner, Homeans, and Corey of the staff to enjoy that interim in which they will not have to stand watch every third night.
The new class of ensigns will arrive June 21. And if the Communications men are out in force and make as enthusiastic and entertaining guests as they proved themselves at last Sunday's picnic, our little sister are sure to enjoy their stay at Cambridge from the Beginning. This is a case when there are many more at home like us.