The Lucky Bag receives a shot in the arm this morning by its first in a series of guest articles. This one, by "Hank" Amlin, contains the news of the week as seen through the eyes of a Texas throwback in the badlands of the North....
In the spring a young man's fancy-- ain't he? This week's fancies were diverted somewhat by the first trickle of mid-term exam grades, but the battalion stood ready to the man to pounce joyfully on the first green blade of grass. Signs that balmier days are in the offing are found in the profusion of khakis and for it.
Apartment-hunting patrols infiltrated grays, along with colds conveniently attributed to changeable weather. And the week brought many startling revelations. Among them, the Supreme Court decision which caught the Texas delegation flat-footed and revived old secession rumors. Increasingly frequent opportunities to develop proficiency in drilling and marching were taken with "canine philosophy," especially by the family men.
There was a growing conviction that somehow or other the war would not be over by 1100, 25 September, and that the privilege of sea duty would not be denied those who have striven so assiduously main lines of resistance, but reported that foxholes along Mass. Avenue, Bowling Green, Dunster, and Claverly, are well filled. Chernow, Cassel, Nash, and Beauty are first in line for the senior house after six radar, two communications, and four chaplain men.
The notoriously ragged weekend marches to Wellesley and the Statier are due to pick up when whites are broken out and tanned faces take their place in the sun. Practicing for those halcyon days to come, Giangrasso prowled the range unfettered at Eunice's Wellesley tea dance, and D.V. Weir entertained a titian-haired 5 by 5. Even Warner's happy return was shadowed by finding his roommates estranged, of all things, by a woman.
Gone but not forgotten: Lt. Charlie, of course, and gifts of advice ... J. Anton and pointed cynicism ... weeks free from 1600 meetings ... Hanson's iteration and re-iteration ... snow ... 6c airmail stamps ... meat on Wednesday ... student club singsongs ... Herilhy's "fawn the battalion" ... Kolker and "my name is Marvin J." ... And the case of champagne to: Lt. Beckham, attaining the senile age of 24 come 18 April ... Student Club Saturday night struggles ... Webb, Van Housen, Hope, Bergen, et al, for getting things done ... Captain MacIntosh for our 13-day leave ... and those one hundred iron men on their way.
And for our finale, we suggest that those week-ending in the big city see DeGraeve for a graphic description of "3-A Poppa, Dont You 4-F Me or Mama's Gonna 1-A You." The word is expedite.