At
j Second
Glance j
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(Continued from page two)
ter taps whether or not a tree is
there (or anywhere) if one can’t
see it. As a rule, Notre Dame
chosens are well-built specimens
f manhood, although that glint
their eyes didn’t come from
burning matches.
Columbia university men are
the slowest-reacting of the en
tire platoon. They like Esquire,
Victor Hugo and blondes. They
carry their "summa cum laudes”
with them, even on the drill
fields. Columbians like rum and
cokes, although they can’t have
either one here in bootcamps.
But what hurts above all else is
their revelation that Oregon is a
county in California “near” the
Pacific ocean.
And then one can find individ
uals in platoon 1107, too, that de
serve mention, like Glenn Sides
from Alabama who is six feet,
Bix inches tall and had to secure
special consideration to enlist.
He's a Spittimage of Abe Lin
«ln—except for the crew hair
t . . . there’s the New Eng
lander, George by name, who
doesn’t think that liquid’ stock
ing makeup is going to the
dogs. Says he, “I’d say it’s going
to the calves instead” ... A drill
sergeant always threatens his
“boots” with “I’m going to kick
you so hard that we’ll both have
to go to the hospital. I don’t know
about you, but they’ll have to cut
my foot out” . . . there are more
brunettes than blonds among re
cruits, although this soon changes
after the Carolina sun shines on
them for seven weeks . . . the
most widely discussed topic at
night is NOT women; instead,
rifles. Honest! . . . Radios are en
couraged in all barracks and the
Sunday symphonic programs are
as eagerly listened to as the more
«pular programs . . . There are
tually no Smiths or Jones in
platoon 1107. Instead, such names
as Krawiec, Krovatch, Ostroue,
Jahn, and Caruso . . . Haircuts,
which remove every hair below
the timberline are only 25 cents
. . . and most important of all—•
to many—is the fact that there
is adequate hot water for nightly
showers.
But most striking of all is the
nonchalant use of English among
sergeants, such as that’s all they
are to it,” “We is all getting a
haircut,” and “What is doing,
lad?” However, mistakes as they
may be, grammatically speaking,
they only enhance the glowing
aura around the sergeant, and
to many, God threw away the
pattern after he made sergeants
fnr the marine corps. They’re the
^Pruits’ best friend—actually and
sincerely.
If a Buddy
(Continued from page tii'o)
nel with the 14th armored divi
sion on New Year's day. Sta
tioned at Camp Chaffee, Arkan
sas, he was called into active
duty in December, 1941. Prior to
this, Hammersley was superin
tendent of city schools at Tilla
mook.
Another promotion was that of
Raymond C. Houghton, '40, who
was promoted from a first lieu
tenant to a captain in the army.
•ptain Houghton is operations
icer at the army base at
Greenville, S. C.
George L. Evans, ’43, gradu
ated from Gulf Coast training
center early in January and was
commissioned a second lieutenant
in the army air forces. He com
pleted his pre-flight training at
Santa Ana and his primary in
struction at Fort Stockton, Tex
as.
Sarah E. Ray, '41,#has been ac
cepted by the WAVES and will
begin her training in February
at Smith college, Northampton,
Mass. A former resident of Eu
gene, she has been working at
Bloomingdale’s department store
in New York City after receiv
ing her master’s degree in mer
chandising at New York univer
sity.
Kobert C. Boyd, ’42, has been
commissioned a second lieuten
ant upon graduation from the ma
rine corps officers candidate
school at Quantico, Virginia. Lt.
Boyd is still at Quantico base
enrolled in a three months' course
in advanced military tactics and
strategy'. His wife, the former
Marie Walker, ’43, makes her
home at Dayton.
Harold L. Armstrong, ’41, who
is stationed at Cochran field in
Macon, Georgia, was recently
promoted to the rank of staff
sergeant.
Sergeant George G. Fegg, ’41,
of Eugene, was one of 113 men
who were graduated recently
from an officers’ candidate course
in the southwest Pacific area and
commissioned second lieutenants.
The 113 lieutenants had all been
drawn from the ranks of the en
listed men and were the first
graduates from this school “some
where in Australia.”
Are University
Students Tops?
(Continued from pane two)
able to do so simply because their
families do not require their earn
ings for subsistence.
“Three out of every four high
school students who graduate in
the. top ten per cent scholastical
ly never get to college, mainly be
cause of financial reasons."
Who’s Superior?
Well, to whom are college stu
dents superior? And, how? Don't
ask these questions unless you’re
locked up in your room and like
to talk to yourself. But here’s a
suggestion. If you want to make
life more interesting, and even
more educational, dedioate ore
day to an observation of signs of
superiority. Then ask “What dif
ference will it make twenty-five
years from now?” It should make
a difference, you know.
Just keeping your eyes open
will be worth the fun, but there
are a few more questions which
can be asked.
Does breathing the oft-used air
of University classrooms, and
treading the harmless paths of a
beautiful campus lend to supe
riority ?
Book Learning
Do correct manners, social
charms, and rounded personali
tics bring superiority?
Do four years of book learning,
an exposure to culture, plus a
sprinkling of activities constitute
superiority?
Does actual qualification for
lucrative employment after grad
uation mean the appearance of
a superior individual?
Of course, there are lots of
petty and even embarrassing
questions that could also be
asked about the activities and
intentions of University students.
Yet, if any questions are to be
asked at all, it may be just as
well to determine what the cri
terion of a superior person is,
how they become so superior,
whether they use their superior
ity merely for their own selfish
advantage (if they use it), what
obligations accompany the pos
session of superiority, what dif
ference it makes, and who's to
judge this undenied attribute of
college students.
Scene at Random
(Continued from page tioo)
age. At least that is what one
boy at the University of Califor
nia discovered. Standing on the
sleeping porch he saw a rabbit
in the yard below. He picked up
a milk bottle, took aim and scored
a direct hit, as a result he en
joyed rabbit for dinner while his
fraternity brothers eyed him en
viously.
—The Daily Californian
I Cover the Campus
milt'd iron: pn<;c two)
of Eugene lately. On almost ev
ery double-bill these days you : an
find such tid-bids as ' THE M OM
MY WALKS," "The Revenge of
the Beast,” "The Monster’s Bc
turn” . . . What the purpose, of
these marrow-narrowing cine
matic tid-bits is, we cannot fath
om. Trouble is, they become
slightly amusin' after you've y< on
the first fifty . . , It's the breaks
of the game, however. . . .
All that big publicity abort J.
Wesley Sullivan didn't phase eg.
Shucks we knew him when he
wrote the “Derby Lit.es" column,
for the Young Oregonian section
of that Portland sheet. . . .
Happy ending dept.: Mass
Jeanne Smith, prexy the {bri
des, just recovering from a. brok
en ankle sustained while falling
off the bleachers at a basketball
game, received a letter in the mail
the other day with twenty-live
bucks enclosed. As matters turned
out, however, the dough and 'ot
ter belonged to dorm-man Gene
Smith, who was very glad to see
Jeanne when she turned over ihe
loot to him . . . Poem for Floy
Faul Nelson:
Roses are red, violets are Line;
If I had a. column like yours. I'd
join the zoo.
Russian colleges graduated
370.000 students in 39-52.
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