T T
Montague Llbraiy
Mars Hill College
Return to Desolation
Having escaped unharmed from
Washington, recently destroyed by
atomic robot rockets, I approached
Mars Hill early one morning for a
long-awaited visit. Hardly had the
first shaft of morning sunlight
burst over the fog-cloaked Crag-
gies when my straining eyes were
Satisfied. From where I had
parked on the summit of the ridge
I could see the whole valley be
low, and the sight was a horrible
one. The entire scene was an in
describable chaos of smouldering
ruins. Gone were the familiar
landmarks I once had seen. The
buildings, the trees, and the houses
Were all devastated almost beyond
recognition. It seemed as though I
had stumbled onto a modern
Jericho.
beams over the basketball floor
stood out like a misshappen skele
ton. The ancient Moore Hall had
been shattered and had tumbled
down the hill into the once lovely
amphitheater,‘half filling the quiet
pool. Just at the edge of the rock-
bound stage, whose grass was now
withered and dried, lay the white
form of a rotting duck, while in
the dark water paddled its mate
quacking loudly.
A small hill where once three
girls’ dormitories had stood, proud
and erect—symbolic of the Chris
tian womanhood developed there—
Was strewn with black and twisted
Wreckage. Across the valley on the
little mountain, bricks, still hot
and widely scattered, and smoking
pipes rising from a burning heap
gave the only evidence that two
Wen’s dormitories had only recent
ly stood there. The trees which
bad once stood guard there were
broken and split, and the leaves
looked as if they had been sand
blasted. In the valley below de
struction reigned also; where once
the modern science building had
stood out against the sky, a mass
af snarled beams, half-iburned
Walls, and rivulets of melted glass
gave off a spiraling smoke of sick
ening fumes and deadly rays.
Mearby, where the beautiful cafe
teria had stood, a three-tiered
stack of smouldering aShes, burned
bricks, and broken c.nder blocks
still caved through here and there
Ipto the cellar-like passages under
neath. Encircling a small debris-
littered plot of ground, in which
there stood a flagpole leaning over,
almost touching the ground and
from which there hung a battered
flag, were the smoking, charred,
ngly remains of half a dozen build
ings. The tall columns of the state
ly old gym had crumbled, and the
The two wooden frames of Spil-
man and Treat had been reduced
to heaps of ashes by raging fires.
The walls of the auditorium had
collapsed under the burning top,
and both had become a charred
cumulation. The only distinguish
able signs of the B.S.U. building
was a mass of curled and black
ened tin. Across the way stood the
remains of the church—^least hurt
of any building; it had lost its roof
and the inside had been gutted by
fire, but the scorched walls were
still intact. The new library, where
the old one and the music building
had been, was completely demol
ished; only an elongated heap of
rubble remained.
The familiar old elm at the top
of the little slope was split in two,
and half of it lay across the path
in front of the ravaged in
firmary. Even the little fountain
in the sunken garden beside the
now leveled administration build
ing was buried under an avalanche
of wreckage and no longer spout
ed its sparkling stream.
By
Walter Smith
around the ruins—doomed to slow
and certain death by bodily
wounds or the effects of the dead
ly waves. Absolutely no hope re
mained for the injured and the
stricken; it was not likely that
outside help would be able to come
in for several days yet.' In the
meantime they were all dying by
degrees. Their twisted faces indi
cated that they were in mortal
agony. This pitiful, sickening sight
of the dead and stricken scattered
across the blackened landscape
gave the perfect appearance that
Death and Destruction had swept
in together, hand in hand, in a
moment of unexpectedness. A
scorching sun seemed to suck up
the boiling smoke, the horrible
stench, and the fatal rays, yet
leaving the effects of a hell on
earth.—Was this the once lovely
campus of the proud little college
where I had spent two long-re
membered years? Was this really
it?
The scene which capped the
whole chaotic mess and made it a
living hell was that of the bodies
strewn everywhere and the strick
en ones lying here and there be
tween the burning wreckages. The
bodies of students, faculty mem
bers and townspeople confronted
me on every hand. They lay in
the devastated buildings, in the
little roads and paths, and across
the broken sidewalks. These were
the fortunate ones, for they had
died almost instantly; there were
many who groaned among the
wreckages, crawled painfully along
the ground, or trudged feebly
Isn’t it queer that a man has to
get to the bottom of the valley, be
fore he lifts up his eyes to the
hills from whence cometh his help?
—Betty Sanders.
Easter Special
Orchids $3.25
Consult Our Agent
MRS. E. C. COATES
Mars Hill, N. C.
Middlemount
Flower Shop
Asheville
North Carolina
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