The Lucky Bag

An uneventful week for the most part. An uneventful weekend for most of us. The greater activities took place in home waters. A little inspection trouble in the acro Corporation caused many a noisy board meeting. A board meeting to us is a business affair which is definitely "platoonic," i.e., one man does the work and 44 others take notes.

It was a warm, lazy Saturday afternoon, marred only by the gentle purrings of busy typewriters until Cross and Crowtner breezed up with those two young ladies in the Pontiac. For two sweet things who were merely "looking for a fellow in D-46," they certainly got to know the regiment. It must have been their "C" card.

Rocky Wullfaert tells us he has been chosen "pin-up" boy by the Sophs at Wellesley. Speaking of pin-ups, we have one of our own-a certain Miss Green. She'll be available for public surveillance if she lives up to her promise to brighten Harvard with her "1942, cream-colored, Buick convertible." Get in your reservations early.

Hank Haydel claims to be the only man in the Battalion who gets any sleep. He stays in every Saturday night.

Plans go ahead for our Yearbook, Safer than any wager on the Derby is that free Yearbook for a proper title. It only takes one idea!!!

Two more of our brethren have fallen and succumbed to the lure of the horseflesh. (Cowie will please disregard any implications.) Holmes and Freeman at their first race made stacks of it on paper.

Company 2 social bugs while away an evening at Wellesley. Raska, Pugh, and Ringe were still starry-eyed Monday morning as C.P.O. Clem calisthenically beat us to death.

And last, but not least. Dick Gilbert-"Aero-Why I thought it was the Thorn Case. And after I had suggested a salesman to cover Russia, too. Do you think they'll notice?"