Oct. 13, 1944.
Published Weekly By The Student Body
Of Salem College
Member Southern Inter-Collegiatcf Press Afsoeiation
The Refurning Serviceman
SUBSCRIPTION PFICE - $2. A YEAR - lOe A COPY
Editor-in-Chief EHe” Byrd
Assistant Editor Effie Ruth Maxwell
Assoeiate Editor Hazel Watts
Sports Editor Mary Luey Baynes
Co])y Editor Helen MacMi.lan
Advisor Miss .T^'ss Byrd
Mildred Garrison Manager
bUie Rodd, Mar,ha Walton, Ann Hairston, Mary
Elizabe h Reimers, Barbara W'utkins, Margaret West,
Dodie Hay ley, Kathleen Phillips, Agiit-s Bowers, Dons
Little, Mary Farmer jlrantley, Greta Garth, Catherine
Bunn.’ Leslie Bullard, Emma’ Mitche!,l, and Henriet;a
Emily Harris Business Manager
Mildred Grarison Circulation Manager
Betsy Thomas Advertising Manager
Betsy Long, Doris .Littk', Marianne Everett,
Kathleen Philliiw, jiartlia W’alton, Sheffield Liles,
Lomie Low Mills, Margaret Brown, Martha Harrison,
Winifred Wall, and Mary Fiirmer Brantley.
Typists: Nancy Hills Davis, Margaret Nichols, Mary
Fianec!' McNeely, Margaret Carter, and Betty Hen-
uessee. Mollie Cameron, Norma Rhoades, Mary Stevens,
Marion Water.^, Sally Boswell, Carol Beckwith, Edith
This paper was'assembled with the help of: Jane
Calkins, Janie Mulhollen, Marguerite Mullin, Sarah
Hege, Senora Lindsay, June Reid, Doris Little, Mar
garet Fisher, Rosamond Putzel, Helen Thomas, Peggy
Taylor, Lynn Williard, Jane Lovdace, Lucile Newman,
Maria Hicks, Abby McCormick, Margaret Williams,
Frances Law, Lois Wooten, Bernice Bunn, Coit Red-
fearn, Genevieve Frasier, Janet Johnston, and Luanne
In our opinion, the system pf registration
of Salem College is lacking. The'process of the
actual registration is simple enough and does
not take long. The students, however, must
stand in line for one to three hours and that
seems highly unnecessary.
It is possible that the system be amended
without too much change. The blanks which
we fill in for the Academic and Resident Deans
could be mailed to us with our medical blanks
and the three could be filed in tlse Registrar’s
Office before we reach Salem. It might be
plausible also to extend the hours of registra
tion from two to five to nine to five.
If it is not plausible to have registration all
day, it has been suggested that the registra
tion be accomplished by classes. For example,
the seniors would register at two o’clock, the
juniors at three, and the sophomores at four.
Still another suggestion was that each faculty
head send out appointment slips, so that every
one would not go at the same time.
Perhaps these suggestions may not solve
the problem l)ut they may cause thought about
our system of registration and possible improve
Letters From The Service
A poem w'ritten by a sailor while in the hos
pital at Bainbridge Naval Training Station:
“Here I sit,,ensconced, to wit,
with magazines and nurses;
And just to pass the time aw^ay—
I try to count the hearses.
A Wave comes by to take my pulse,
I aim to keep it steady;
But when she holds my wrist and smiles,
I find it’s jumped already.
I sleep all day, I smoke all night,
Gad, what a combination!
I feel like p discordant jerk
In a Dorsey syncopation.
The doctors come, they look at me.
They whisper—‘ scalerosis ’, *
I tremble at their awesome w'ords—
Wish they’d talk in smaller doeses.
My legs are straight, my legs are firm.
I’ve never needed crutches; ^ \
But a wheel chair takes me everywhere
Ye gads. I’m in their clutches!
It’s vervj very quiet here.
In fact they say, you know,
That when a patient dies close by
You hardly hear him go.
Says I to doc — ‘I’m feeling fine’
Yet, despite my great endeavor,
While patients come, and patients go,
Ciuess I’m stuck right here forever.
Each day they bring the health reports
’N’d ask them what’s the news;
They smile real sweet, say ‘Never mind.
Just drink your orange juice’ ”.
Rain . . . dear Ceasar of all the things it might have done, why
did it have to rain! We should have known that it would for life was
just too gay . . . Then to top it all—no Edward Weeks this year . . .
that grieveth our souls . . . perhaps the recivnt chapel programs arc
making up for it . . . Archibald Rutledge . . . Dean \ ardell (incidentally,
did 'you, too, notice the strange resemblance beftween the seniors and their
song? — esi>ecial!y that first part . . . whew!) . . . Dr. Mauze’ . . .
Poor Dr. Jordan is really livin’ a hard life these days. He' can’t
quite gL't used to the idea of everyone’s knowing what he does and where
he goes (and where he doesn’t go . . . !) We take it that he doesn’t
yet realize how extraordinary he is about these parts . . . But he’ll learn,
won’t he, children-—everyone does with time.
Amazing what that fella time can do, ain’t tho’—especially in the
case of Chateaubriande, who, it seems, according to said Dr. Jordan,
was greeted by Roosevelt himself on his first trip to our fair land—
this .seafms like a logical mistake. (He was probably out solicitiiyj votes
at the time!)
Speaking of this election—well, no, we weren’t, but let’s—It’s rather
disgusting that two eamdidates can act so childish, isn’t it? What we
definitely love is the fact that the Democratic Party kas sunk so low
as to employ the use of movie stars—ye gods—The worst of it is that
they will [irobably reap the harvest that the Republicans have just
won . . . Not that it makes any difference ’cause the crop couldn’t be
any good—they’ve thrown all the top soil at Fala . . .
What, please, are those bits of tropical splendor doing in the D.
S. C. and the dining room? A wild debate has been going on as to
wheth(?r we should hang our hats on them or believe Mr. Campbell . . .
He sp.ya they’re date palms ... he should know! They really are quite
beautiful, but, oh so lonesome . . .
We must be on our merry way ... By the* way, just as we thought,
we are ■ not only an introvert-—u^ps—pardon ... we not only have a
tendency toward those traits wliich go into the making of an in
trovert, but we are unpatriotic and have not the dynamic organization
within our individual make-up of those psychophysical systems that
determine our unique adjustments to our environment! ... if you
please! . . .
El Club Espanol tendra su primero s6si6n el miercoles, diez y
ocho de Octubre. A todas las estudian’tes de espanol se la invita con
cordialidad a hacerle socios de este club. Es una oportunidad d6 aprender
cosas interesantes del pais cuza lengua estudiamos. Todo el mundo
podra preguntar por programaas in el aspecto de la vida de Espana
en que tiene un in teres. Gas veremos a ustedes all&?
(This is an experience which really happened
and which the staff feels should be passed on to
show the reality of the retuT'ning serviceman’s
When I walked into my room at ten o’clock
last Sunday night 1 found on my dressei- a print
ed sheet with the title, “The Returning Service
Man.” It was the guide to a discussion which
had taken place at “Y” vespers. I missed the
discussion, but while it was going on I, too, was
getting a lesson on “The Returning Service
Man” . . .
There was a large crowd pushing against the
side of the bus in the —bus station. Someone’s
suitcase was scraping my shins, and a hat box
was bumping my shoulder. In the tightness of
the. crowd I was suddenly aware of someone
shaking—trembling like a cold or frightened
Alarmed, I turned to see. It was a boy with
a nice face but rather wild eyes. I suppose he
was twenty-five or more. He wore civilian
cl(^thes, and was supporting himself by two
crutches. My glance must have resembled a
stare, for the boy smiled at me and awkwardly
pointed to an army discharge buttoli on his
lapel. I could tell that the gesture had taken
“I’ve just beeH out of the army two months,
It was kard to make conversation. That
tongue-tied silence that belongs to the hospital
bed-side came over me. The boy—let’s call him
Joe for convenience—was worried about get
ting on the bus and getting a seat. Some Salem
girls managed to save a seat for him, and I
talked with him all the way to Winston-Salem.
At first his presence gave me the “jitters.”
He trembled constantly and could harly hold
a match still enough to light his cigarette.
Unexpectedly, Joe broke the silence. “I
still feel self-conscious on these things,” he
said, pointing to the crutches.
Somehow, that remark made things a little
easier, and by picking cautiously I soon had
Joe’s whole story.
For twenty-two months Joe was,with an anti
aircraft division in North Africa. His division
was replaced four times, and I gathered from
his tone that he felt lucky to be one of the
survivors. He was Wounded in North Africa;
three bullets were lodged near his spine. After
spending days in hospitals in Corsica, Holland,
and England, Joe came to the U. S.; where his
case has been studied as particularly unusual.
Pressure on a nei-ve in the spine has caused total
paralysis of-41u*Jower half of his body and a
high nervousness. He may be off crutches in
eighteen months; he may never be oft them.
Naturally Joe’s worried but he said he felt lucky
because he ^vas getting better medical care than
the soldierji of the last war.
In spite of all, however, J.oe is on his way to
N. Y. University to study criminology. He was
an engineer before the war.
Impressed by his frankness and eagerness
to talk, I asked Joe a few questions.
“How do I feel about girls in the service?
That’s hard to answer”, he said. “I don’t know
al)out the W’^AC’S and WAVE’S, but I think
nurses are w6nderful! ”
Joe asked me a few questions, too, one of
which was rather startling.
“Do you realize—are you aware—that a lot
of boys are gone?” he asked hesitantly.
I had to answer that I didn’t think too much
He said,(‘‘You can’t imagine what it’s like to
see thousands of bodies just lying there. Of
course, I’ll forget some of it in time, but it won’t
ever be the same world.”
It was hard to find an answer.
Joe added, “I wish I were back over there—
it’s the only place to be.”
As we neared Winston, the Salem crowd on
the bus began the customary singing. A Salem
“blues” singer was in the lead. Joe’s face light
ened up. “Gee that girl’s swell. A voice like
that gives me goose pimples,” he laughed.
We left Joe standing in the Winston bus
station waiting for a N. Y. bus. The last thing
he said to me was, “I’ll see you at a dance some
time !’ ’