A PIECE OF MEAT s 1" entered the bunker, stooping low. The"squd" that followed told had straightened up The last time that I had heard that. “squd” was rmelon fell off a truc ack home. ,; ie nant Turn . i\l.C.," I thought to myself, "the man who - " nter ' bunker \ his head against the ceiling."... Show moreA PIECE OF MEAT s 1" entered the bunker, stooping low. The"squd" that followed told had straightened up The last time that I had heard that. “squd” was rmelon fell off a truc ack home. ,; ie nant Turn . i\l.C.," I thought to myself, "the man who - " nter ' bunker \ his head against the ceiling." I looked up in time to ' . his head. "I avavs do that," he said. “The ceiling’s alwa w,‘ _ I _ "Are you all right 1 61}? hé’ asked. 'g his time it "Yes, sir,” I replied, “How many came 7 "Headquarters reported about three hun ed artillery a ‘ hundred and fifty mortar shells in the hour and a half. That' e worse we've e - stretcher which I used to sleep on. Mr r 'rnquist now seated hims_-wearilv on the stretcher. He stretched his feet Wget them as close as possible ‘3 which glowed a warm and cherry red invitation, He hunched the upper .» _ back and his head agajrfsghe diggiwall. But most of his weight was on his : After a few minutes htggoy t'li’uJook on his face. It was a sad look, i e that Lincoln had' when carnvingilthélimefihgpf the Union on his shoulders. I hanseen this look before on hfs’face anticlinfiwwh‘at‘vvas coming next. In order to stallqiit egg} asked, "1‘ avevacumof coffee?" "Sure," he answe‘regfijpifikly. I made?!) “ligfiwof rummaging through a card; board box looking" for sefiié’ifiofigderedvgfiffe ’ I found these too soon and. then beganfigfé curse mys 'fggfor‘khaving I‘éfigl m «3‘ of water-on the stove" which w ““Ktill hot. In a minu'teséhe had his large-We =1 7 - _ curled around a hot cup offioffee. He slurped his coffé’e);_for_ a momefi'fitbe “mgr dflpeared. It was replaqééa with a look of contentment. Hfifegaeasppeneda‘fi‘tl‘wg and his lower lip [game back‘ftojits normal position. "3 "“* ‘a a secgngl‘,l.t§pught, “Good to the las drop." Then I thoag :D'He “3:5 as cofitented afi‘, 3% ylixéishire cat. I wonder if hJe’; , ugggg; ,VBut onlv [‘1’ Vent. J—le quiclekyire~ "(’ggf'ne‘d his solemn countenance. .33» 'flvselfflaf'figs to}? come. ; $1; a 'figsi'de him on the stretché'r, - kfilthy-feet and; gan saga-rat me fMdIl’Cq This timéax, am a littiléi‘di'ffetgé‘igfifiifhan. minpte. When he‘spoke‘lh’fs words weré’slow fimeasured. s5 Hézasked, "Have you ever read Aloo'r‘E’s'tflopia?" 5’... "Np, sir, I never even heard of it." ‘A‘t-a, “Dan-z; you know what it’s about?" “No."s1-J;.” “Let me‘putzit this way," he started. "Are you a Christian?" “I think so,"2 :I'answged." “Good. Then vou ‘rfi‘u t; ' ' Highs; there is something wrong with all this killing. Certainly you can’t blame ‘afimgggg. I’ll tell you whose We ' It’s man’s fault. Do you know that thirty menimggs afternoon T ’_ menl By this time his voice had reached a itch that ends: lfiiig‘a'shrieking crescendo “Take: it easv;'fsir,’:7'; I. implored 1 00d get excl over it.".7s. * "a . .‘ 7 a a . .:;'25Excited.»1'_ he: \vail'ed. "Coffeela— : ; this?! fter ,‘n, screaming to Jesus and their mothers t r it h efihnk— ing coffee.".'n. ‘ a. .3 .: - _- s ':«. . h v 4 ‘ He begansa furiousefI-ortto’cbntrol his = ‘ Slo ‘ he bega " again. “Loo‘K, yowk’nowlthis is wrongilylen haue'got to stop 5 uing m , 1 "Susne,”el*agreedg:“butfirsmlou have to figure‘oap y deli "You're wrong," he said. “It's deeper than that. It' erns ' an’s whole re- lationship to his ‘fellow man. It’s not justa matter of killing. It seems to me, and it must to you, if you are a Christian, that man is by nature greedy. He'll get all he can out of his neighbor by book or by crook. Eeven if he has enough, he's got slurp my k ~ 4‘ ' -. al. He “It won't do 2O Show less
to figure out some way to get more. He’ll get it from his neighbor even if it means his neighbor will starve. Some people say we come from monkeys. Who ever heard of a monkey fencing in a banana tree and keeping it to himself while other monkeys starved to death?" "Good night," I though, "the man... Show moreto figure out some way to get more. He’ll get it from his neighbor even if it means his neighbor will starve. Some people say we come from monkeys. Who ever heard of a monkey fencing in a banana tree and keeping it to himself while other monkeys starved to death?" "Good night," I though, "the man's babbling" . "That’s what I like about Moore,” he went on. "I think he was wrong in a lot of things. But he was rightwhen he made provisions to see that everyone had what he needed, and then some.‘ But Moore was no stupid idealist. He also provided restraint against those that would take more than they needed. As I said, Moore was wrong in a few ideas. Here's what I would do . . ." Donovan entered. Donovan was a Navy medical corpsman attached to our Ma— rine rifle company. He came straight to the point, making no concessions to Mr. Turnquist's rank. "Captain’s orders," he said militarily, as though expecting an argument, “all available men in front of the corpsmen's bunker to help take out the dead." "Saved by the bell,:' I thought as we left the bunker and walked to the corps— men's. The corpsmen's bunker was easily recognizable on a normal day by the folded stretchers piled beside it. Now the stretchers were neatly lined up on the slope in front of the bunker, coveredwith a shelter half or a poncho. The ponchos did not quite cover the legs of the dead men like the shelter halves did. Ponchos are shorter than shelter halves. Death owed no one anything, but all paid their respects to death. Even the wind ceased its violent whipping and hushedamournful litany. Silent and embarrassed, we milled around for a few minutes. Finally Captain Clary raised his hand in a meaningless command for silence. “Gentlemen,” he began, the term sounding suddenly silly as I looked over the bearded, filthy men, "we have an unpleasant job. We’ve got to get as many of the dead off the hill tonight as possible. We haven't enough stretchers for them all so the ones in the corpsmen’s bunker will stay here overnight. [won’t sav anything. I can’t. Get back as soon as you can. We'll carry the rest down to— morrow." I turned and grasped the handle of the nearest stretcher. It was the right handle at the head of the stretcher. Mr. Turnquist grasped the left handle. We began the torturous descent down the intricate side of the mountain. We tried to keep in step with the others carrying the same stretcher. Two bearded, dirty faced men, looking very nondescript in their parkas with the hoods up, had taken the foot of the stretcher I had chosen. The rest trailed behind us—-fifty—six men carrying fourteen stretchers. I tried not to pay any attention to the gruesome cargo l was carrying. I had just begun to think of ways to shut up Mr. Turnquist when l was shaken from my reverie by the sound of the shelter half moving. I glanced down in time to see the hand of the body dangling over the side of the stretcher. l bent to put it back but faltered midway. In terror I realized thatI dreaded the horror of touching the flesh of the cadaver. I walked a little longer trying to ignore the hand. But it kept rubbing along the ground, By now the flesh began to scrape off the back of the hand. “Pat it back," a voice cried from behind me, "put it back." This gave me the impetus I needed, but the voice never gave me a chance. It continued, "Don't be afraid to touch it. It’s only a piece of meat. That's all it is. in a month it will be nothing more than a bag of rot andworms. Put it back. When you touch it pretend it's just a side of beef. It's nothing to get shook about." Mr. Turnquist laid his part of the burden down, thus forcing the rest to do the same. He gently lifted the shelter half, and with a sad look, placed the offending hand upon the chest of the dead boy. He stood, straddling the stretcher, and looked at the man who had spoken. He was a tall, red faced man with a red beard and a running nose. Mr. Turnquist pointed at him with his mittened hand. "Stop it!" he shouted. “It is not a piece of meat. Haven't you ever heard of the dignity of a human being?" He continued Without giving the red bearded man a chance to answer. “Don't you understand 21 Show less
that this was once a liVe, a breathing. a thinking, a feeling, a loving. a hating human being?" He looked like a bearded, wild—eved Bols‘hevik as he gesticulated widlv with his hands while screaming at the red fated man. Several men had bowed their heads in embarrassment during this stirring... Show morethat this was once a liVe, a breathing. a thinking, a feeling, a loving. a hating human being?" He looked like a bearded, wild—eved Bols‘hevik as he gesticulated widlv with his hands while screaming at the red fated man. Several men had bowed their heads in embarrassment during this stirring soliloquv in defense of human dignity. "He'q right," I thought, "man is more than just a bag of bones. He's more than just a piece of meat." Mr. Turnquist continued in a softer tone, his voice cracking at times, “This boy was once someone's son, someonc's brother. someone's lover or husband. He is now dead, but vou should respect him in death as you should have in life, as a man.” He turned and picked up his stretcher handle. We continued the rest of the way down the mountain. As We approached the road leading to the mountain we saw three ambulances waiting. Thev Were "crackerbox” ambulances, big, square bodied, with vivid red crosses on the sides, top and rear. AS we laid the stretchers down, a clean shaven youth dressed in clean dun- garees came toward us. A cigarette dangled from the corner of his mouth.I could see by his insigne that he was a Navy medical corps'man. "All right,” he said, "just pile 'em in the meat wagon." 22 Show less
.»«ugsburg College George Sverdrup Library Minneapolis, MN 55454 .If life is but a day, Then day is only a moment. . . Grasp the image firmly - Lest it drift until dusk. from "Wisdom at Dawn” Maynard Danielson Augsburg College, Vol. III, 1960
EDITOR'S FORWARD Man is always seeking ways of expressing his fears, apprehensions, desires and other emotions . We feel that one excellent way of achieving such expression is through the medium of literature. In hope of fulfilling our participation in Augsburg's 1960 Festival of Fine Arts... Show moreEDITOR'S FORWARD Man is always seeking ways of expressing his fears, apprehensions, desires and other emotions . We feel that one excellent way of achieving such expression is through the medium of literature. In hope of fulfilling our participation in Augsburg's 1960 Festival of Fine Arts celebration this second issue of the ARKAI comes to you, with no pretensions . We offer a small collection of miscellany including , we hope, a measure of quality and the genuine. Joyce S. Birkeland Show less
TABLE OF CONTENTS TIME . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Page FULLNESS DESIRED . .. . . . . . . . . NEW YORK CITY . . . . . . . . . . . . EMPTINESS . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . LIFE IN LIBERTY . . . . . . . . . . . . PERSISTENCE . . . . . . . . . . . . . . u . o u u u c o ¢ u o c o c SENTRY... Show moreTABLE OF CONTENTS TIME . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Page FULLNESS DESIRED . .. . . . . . . . . NEW YORK CITY . . . . . . . . . . . . EMPTINESS . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . LIFE IN LIBERTY . . . . . . . . . . . . PERSISTENCE . . . . . . . . . . . . . . u . o u u u c o ¢ u o c o c SENTRY DUTY . . . . . . . . . . . . . . UNCONSCIOUSLY CONSCIOUS o o O a . AUTUMN GHOSTS THE WINDOW . . . . . . o o a i u o o o o u o 0 o o u . u c u c u n o n o u . BEAT OF THE NIGHT . . . . . . . . . . DYING OF DAY . . . . . . . . . . . . . . TO EMILY WITHOUT WORMS, ETC. . . . 10 11 ll 12 13 14 l5 l7 17 18 18 19 Show less
TIME Turning , whirling, twisting Tornado: blind, relentless, you bear down Upon all in your path, choosing none but taking all- Scholars , conquerors , idols , nations- All caught and held for breathless moments In fierce passion. Golden glory, Power, light shine forth. Then tiring quickly of... Show moreTIME Turning , whirling, twisting Tornado: blind, relentless, you bear down Upon all in your path, choosing none but taking all- Scholars , conquerors , idols , nations- All caught and held for breathless moments In fierce passion. Golden glory, Power, light shine forth. Then tiring quickly of fast-fading charms, You leave them, let them die And howling , shrieking of your triumph Clamor on to yet more conquests . And death and darkness mark your rubble-strewn path. Julie Medbery FULLNESS DESIRED The lamp is low, But has lost not its spark. The tree is not tall, But ignores not its upward thrust Reaching , climbing , growing , This continues . Joyce Birkeland Show less
Chorus: Old man: Rich matron: Young mother: Dock worker: Nurse: Busines 5 man: Chorus: Street vendor: NEW YORK CITY A Play in Verse Silence is above the city because the city murders or shall we say God takes it is all the same with us. We watch and wait the heavy waking which is almost sleeping... Show moreChorus: Old man: Rich matron: Young mother: Dock worker: Nurse: Busines 5 man: Chorus: Street vendor: NEW YORK CITY A Play in Verse Silence is above the city because the city murders or shall we say God takes it is all the same with us. We watch and wait the heavy waking which is almost sleeping still the horror of another day of bridge and tea and finally the cocktail which I desperately need. More diapers and formula and washing which when hung outside becomes as grey as if I had not scrubbed it till my arms ached with the rubbing . Hell of a job but a guy can't starve some will die today and what can you say to ease the pain of those who stay the market seems steady perhaps I dare yet what a scare when it fell last week. No they never cry—- more a moan of millions of voices that just don't know fresh roasted chestnuts fresh roasted Chestnuts I sells 'um hot 'cause it's all I got and people walk by and don't care . 2. Show less
Newstand man: Chorus: Newspape r editor: History teacher: Math teacher: S-ec retary: Chorus: Down in the hole lady - down in the hole like a mole in the dark where the pushing bodies crush a soul and a man can't breathe and the smell is sweat. The pulse is pounding in the city of man , and plan... Show moreNewstand man: Chorus: Newspape r editor: History teacher: Math teacher: S-ec retary: Chorus: Down in the hole lady - down in the hole like a mole in the dark where the pushing bodies crush a soul and a man can't breathe and the smell is sweat. The pulse is pounding in the city of man , and plan deranged Madison Avenue where fur strolls upon pinched bodies in girdles tight and urchins fight in the crowded street teeming millions crowded tight in one big , bad crime mad hell-bent, heaven sent throbbing, screaming , yelling city. ., . America is the land of opportunity the land of milk and honey. If one started with a penny and doubled his sum each day I think it safe to say that in a year . I fear the boss's anger but I won‘t be pinched no more I'm black and blue through and through a girl's got rights° Or so they say that man has rights , don‘t ask who says we are the trees that stand and stare in lonely clumps in witted parks we don't condemn we watch and wait. 3 Show less
Soda jerk: Chorus: Taxi drive r: Chorus: Like I said you keep eating banana splits you gonna get mighty fat, baby so all she says is maybe. . . Living in a pigeon city of soot carved buildings leaning heavy on the sky we tremble in the loneliness of wide grey eyes tear-filled with fear . The... Show moreSoda jerk: Chorus: Taxi drive r: Chorus: Like I said you keep eating banana splits you gonna get mighty fat, baby so all she says is maybe. . . Living in a pigeon city of soot carved buildings leaning heavy on the sky we tremble in the loneliness of wide grey eyes tear-filled with fear . The tempo slows the dusk descends as work day ends. . . Others go home while I still roam the city majestic in the rainbow glare of flashing pink and yellow. The solid black of alley cat has wrapt its furry body round the city that man built. Cynthia Jac obs en Show less
I WAS A TEENAGE GIANT You don't know what a. thing like that can do to a person's psychology. I was analyzed fourteen times before Iwas fourteen, Because my thirteenth year I grew one foot two inches . And when one is a girl five feet eleven inches to begin with, this is nothing to look down upon... Show moreI WAS A TEENAGE GIANT You don't know what a. thing like that can do to a person's psychology. I was analyzed fourteen times before Iwas fourteen, Because my thirteenth year I grew one foot two inches . And when one is a girl five feet eleven inches to begin with, this is nothing to look down upon, You have all read the words of our hero-philoso- pher, Max Shulman, when he tells of the sorrows of Demosthenes, whose offices were on the third floor but who was never able to get to them because the staircase hadn't been invented yet. Well, I felt like that third story, up there in the clouds without anything connecting me and ordinary humanity, My doctors call it a manicndepressive-schizo— phrenic—neurasthenic reaction to an excess growth, I don‘t know about the first part, but the second is certainly sure. To compensate, since there wasn't much I could do about adjusting myself to my peer group, which would have. consisted mainly of pro basketball players , I turned, as have so many in ages past and will so many in ages to come, to the wisdom of ages past and the hope of ages to come; i.e, , books. Again, I consulted my hero-philosopher , who has invented a marvelous method for memorization termed Mnemonics.(lnciden1;ally Mnemon invented the stair- case, a fact which in my case had symbolic implica- tions,) Taking my cue from Max I developed jingles which were my keys for unlocking the wisdom of ages past and the hopes of ages to come. I wandered around the house {which had special high. ceilings built in to accommodate Iny prodigiously elevated altitude) murmuring Mnemonically, The linotype has a line 0' type, A highway has a yellow stripe (Down the middle). My poetry and sense of rhythm, form, syntax, Show less