The Brighton Boys in the Radio Service | Page 3

and I
know the recruiting agent to put the thing through."
So it was arranged that the three lads should return to the dormitory,
write the letters which were to procure them the desired permission to
enlist, and then inform the headmaster of their intentions.
Joe and Jerry, who had roomed together throughout their entire three
years at Brighton, already were well on with their epistles of
explanation when Slim, whose room was seven doors down the
corridor, dragged himself in, looking more downcast than any boy in
Brighton ever had seen him look before.
"No use," he informed his two friends, a choke in his voice. "They
won't have me. I'm overweight."
"Oh, now, Slim, what are you worrying about that for? I don't believe
any such thing," counseled Joe.
"It's true, though," affirmed Slim. "That's the worst part of it; I saw it in
the book. I'm toting around about twenty pounds more than the
government wants, and I'd have to stand on tiptoe in high-heel shoes to
meet the requirement in height."
Poor Slim! He showed his disappointment in every look and every
action.
"What kind of a book did you see it in?" asked Jerry, in a tone almost
as sad as Slim's.
"In the manual," Slim groaned. "Herb Wallace showed it to me."
"That settles it," exclaimed Joe. "If Herb Wallace had a hand in it
anywhere there's something wrong. I'll tell you what we'll do, fellows.
We'll go and ask the headmaster."
Now the headmaster of Brighton had once been a boy himself. He
could be stern, even cruelly severe, when occasion demanded, but he

was kind of heart and broad of understanding.
Before him the three lads laid their case, as before the final tribunal.
"H'm," said he, when all the details had been related and the
all-important information asked. "You say Herbert Wallace showed
you this in a manual?"
Slim solemnly affirmed that that was the case.
The headmaster pushed a button on the side of his desk and in a few
seconds his secretary, a big, bluff fellow, appeared.
"Bring Herbert Wallace here at once," said the headmaster. And in five
more minutes, while the headmaster was shrewdly questioning the
three lads as to the seriousness of their determination to enlist, the
secretary returned, accompanied by young Wallace, flushed and
shamefaced.
"Well, Wallace," said the principal of Brighton, "I hear you've been
studying up on military subjects. Intending to get into the fight?"
Herbert Wallace hung his head and muttered an unintelligible reply.
"Now look here, Wallace," spoke the headmaster sternly, "where did
you get the military manual from which you gave Goodwin the
information that he could not pass the examination for the army?"
"I--I got it from the library, sir."
"Got it without permission, too, didn't you?" pursued the headmaster.
"Yes, sir," said Wallace, in confusion.
"And didn't know that it was out of date, and that the requirements
were completely changed after the United States entered this war, eh?"
"No, sir," answered Wallace, on the verge of a breakdown.

"I'll decide upon your punishment later," announced the headmaster.
"See me here at four o'clock. Meanwhile, Wallace, be careful where
you get information, and be careful how you dispense it."
And Herbert Wallace, utterly humiliated, was glad to flee from the
room.
"I don't think," said the headmaster, "that any of you will have
difficulty passing the examinations. I dislike to see you go, but you
speak the truth when you say that your country does need you, and I
pay a great tribute of respect to you for the patriotism and courage with
which you step forth to shoulder your obligations. Others already have
gone from Brighton. Still others will go in the future. God bless all of
you, and may you return safe and sound to reap the full benefits of the
democracy for which you are going to fight."
The suspicion of tears dimmed the kindly eyes of the headmaster, and
each boy choked up as he bade him good-by.
But, after all, this was no time for sadness. Young gladiators were
going forth to the fray. And so we will skip over the farewells the
following day, in which the parents of each lad, with many a heartache
but never a word of discouragement, bade the boys Godspeed in the
service of their country.
The three lads, together with fifteen others, formed a detachment of the
recently enlisted who were to go to the Philadelphia Navy Yard for
further assignment. Just before the train pulled out a students' parade
that seemed to include every boy in Brighton marched to the station to
see them off.
One of the lads carried a large transparency on which was printed:
"THEY BRIGHTEN THE FAME OF BRIGHTON"
And just as the