VOL. I NO. 42 REG NO. L5015 DELHI, THURSDAY JULY 1, 1943.
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Gets U.S. Contributions
Golden and warm in the dusk and the friendly hills Rolled dark and high on the west where the sun had gone. Rolled long and familiar to the north, when the wind was still. The lights of these homes that shine in the tranquil dusk, In the blue and violet burning dusk of home. Are the hearts that hold you warm, as the rose's musk Lives and breathes for our love, when its petals are foam. Now the cold comes down over the valley: the white star Burns clean as white ash over the Holyoke range. Along the dark Connecticut, scattered afar The deep lights glowing - the loves that cannot change Anymore than these woods can change - these woods that knew Your step, your voice, the sound of your gun in October. The roads through hemlock, the partridge that thundered and flew. The leaf-mold under your feet, the blue sky over. Prospect, where the pines are, lakes of your fishing and skating, Towers of the college, black against winter sky - These are your real self; when the fighting and hating Pale in your pulse, these are what you are still known by. These are what guards our hearts, and yours together. This is the love the valley keeps, through the winter weather. By Pvt. TILLMAN I. JAMES |
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Who is that man, when skies are grey, To whom is said, "Take over, son?" Who flies the ship till vict'rys won In hopes that he may see a better day? He's the man who lends the heft, Who lifts the wheels and drops the flaps With hopes that someday he perhaps May ride the seat of glory on the left. He's the man, when ack-ack sings, Who sweats it out while in the thick, While pilot's busy with the stick, Checking gas and other sundry things. He's the man, when plans are made, That silent one without a voice Who listens to the pilot's choice And wishes he but ranked a higher grade. He's the man, when day is done, When stomach thinks of dining halls, When muscles ache; but pilt calls, "You alert the ship tonight, my son." And he's the man, when generals fly To decorate for gallantry, Is told, when asking "How 'bout me?" That "Yours is really not to reason why." By Lt. DAVID K. HAYWARD |
SLINGSHOT KILLERS
"What," questioned he, "have you got in there?"
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This week's page one morale booster introduces Roundup cheesecake fans to Marjorie Woodworth,
who, you'll agree, looks more apropos in her fetching costume than she would in a fur coat.
Madame Sun Yat-sen, widow of the late great founder of the Chinese Republic and sister of Madame Chiang Kai-shek,
entertained American soldiers recently in her home with a dinner dance.
T/Sgt. Charles T. Rodbourne eats vigorously (if not too expertly) with his chopsticks,
while Madame Sun Yat-sen looks on arrpovingly... a a trifle indulgently.
Ten stars proudly grace the service flag of Mrs. Emma Van Coutren of New York City.
Six sons are in the Navy, one is in the Army, and three daughters are WACs.
Some of the boys - and after all these months, too - found to their discomfort that the Indian sun is not exactly like the one that shines down upon Muskoke, Mich.
Returning from a Sunday relaxing period, after being out in the sun all day, the lads resembled one of those newly painted fire trucks you used to run after in your younger days.
