A Separate Peace.pdf - Southwest High School
A Separate Peace.pdf - Southwest High School A Separate Peace.pdf - Southwest High School
11213The quadrangle surrounding the Far Common was never considered absolutely essential to theDevon School. The essence was elsewhere, in the older, uglier, more comfortable hallsenclosing the Center Common. There the School's history had unrolled, the fabled riot scenesand Presidential visits and Civil War musterings, if not in these buildings then in theirpredecessors on the same site. The upperclassmen and the faculty met there, the budget wascompiled there, and there students were expelled. When you said "Devon" to an alumnus tenyears after graduation he visualized the Center Common.The Far Common was different, a gift of the rich lady benefactress. It was Georgian like therest of the school, and it combined scholasticism with grace in the way which made Devonarchitecturally interesting. But the bricks had been laid a little too skillfully, and the woodworkwas not as brittle and chipped as it should have been. It was not the essence of Devon, and so itwas donated, without too serious a wrench, to the war.The Far Common could be seen from the window of my room, and early in June I stood atthe window and watched the war moving in to occupy it. The advance guard which came downthe street from the railroad station consisted of a number of Jeeps, being driven with a certainrestraint, their gyration-prone wheels inactive on these old ways which offered nothingbumpier than a few cobblestones. I thought the Jeeps looked noticeably uncomfortable from allthe power they were not being allowed to use. There is no stage you comprehend better thanthe one you have just left, and as I watched the Jeeps almost asserting a wish to bounce up theside of Mount Washington at eighty miles an hour instead of rolling along this dull street, theyreminded me, in a comical and a poignant way, of adolescents.Following them there were some heavy trucks painted olive drab, and behind them came thetroops. They were not very bellicose-looking; their columns were straggling, their suntanuniforms had gotten rumpled in the train, and they were singing Roll Out the Barrel."What's that?" Brinker said from behind me, pointing across my shoulder at some opentrucks bringing up the rear. "What's in those trucks?""They look like sewing machines.""They are sewing machines!""I guess a Parachute Riggers' school has to have sewing machines.""If only Leper had enlisted in the Army Air Force and been assigned to Parachute Riggers'school . . .""I don't think it would have made any difference," I said. "Let's not talk about Leper."
113"Leper'll be all right. There's nothing like a discharge. Two years after the war's over peoplewill think a Section Eight means a berth on a Pullman car.""Right. Now do you mind? Why talk about something you can't do anything about?""Right."I had to be right in never talking about what you could not change, and I had to make manypeople agree that I was right. None of them ever accused me of being responsible for what hadhappened to Phineas, either because they could not believe it or else because they could notunderstand it. I would have talked about that, but they would not, and I would not talk aboutPhineas in any other way.The Jeeps, troops, and sewing machines were now drawn up next to the Far Commonquadrangle. There was some kind of consultation or ceremony under way on the steps of one ofthe buildings, Veazy Hall. The Headmaster and a few of the senior members of the facultystood in a group before the door, and a number of Army Air Force officers stood in anothergroup within easy speaking distance of them. Then the Headmaster advanced several steps andenlarged his gestures; he was apparently addressing the troops. Then an officer took his placeand spoke longer and louder; we could hear his voice fairly well but not make out the words.Around them spread a beautiful New England day. Peace lay on Devon like a blessing, thesummer's peace, the reprieve, New Hampshire's response to all the cogitation and deadness ofwinter. There could be no urgency in work during such summers; any parachutes rigged wouldbe no more effective than napkins.Or perhaps that was only true for me and a few others, our gypsy band of the summerbefore. Or was it rarer even than that; had Chet and Bobby sensed it then, for instance? HadLeper, despite his trays of snails? I could be certain of only two people, Phineas and myself. Sonow it might be true only for me.The company fell out and began scattering through the Far Common. Dormitory windowsbegan to fly open and olive drab blankets were hung over the sills by the dozens to air. Thesewing machines were carried with considerable exertion into Veazy Hall."Dad's here," said Brinker. "I told him to take his cigar down to the Butt Room. He wants tomeet you."We went downstairs and found Mr. Hadley sitting in one of the lumpy chairs, trying not tolook offended by the surroundings. But he stood up and shook my hand with genuine cordialitywhen we came in. He was a distinguished-looking man, taller than Brinker so that hisportliness was not very noticeable. His hair was white, thick, and healthy-looking and his facewas healthily pink."You boys look fine, fine," he said in his full and cordial voice, "better I would say thanthose doughboys—G.I.'s—I saw marching in. And how about their artillery! Sewingmachines!"
- Page 62 and 63: 62So the war swept over like a wave
- Page 64 and 65: 64We went into the gym, along a mar
- Page 66 and 67: 66you at the Funny Farm.""In a way,
- Page 68 and 69: 68large rambling, doubtfully Coloni
- Page 70 and 71: 709This was my first but not my las
- Page 72 and 73: 72Giraud but Lepellier; we knew, be
- Page 74 and 75: 74"Who wants a Winter Carnival?" he
- Page 76 and 77: 76Still the sleek brown head bent m
- Page 78 and 79: 78ELWIN LEPER LEPELLIER.
- Page 80 and 81: 80escapes from is danger, death, th
- Page 82 and 83: 82"That's what you say. But that's
- Page 84 and 85: 84a good boy underneath," she must
- Page 86 and 87: 86the Mess Hall, I had to eat every
- Page 88 and 89: 88"How's Leper?" he asked in an off
- Page 90 and 91: 90I didn't say anything."He must be
- Page 92 and 93: 92never will.""You're so wrong I ca
- Page 94 and 95: 94I believed you," he added hurried
- Page 96 and 97: 96acoustics in the school. I couldn
- Page 98 and 99: 98the tree did it by itself. It's a
- Page 100 and 101: 100"Here! Go get him," said Brinker
- Page 102 and 103: 102"I can't think of the name of th
- Page 104 and 105: 104Dr. Stanpole stopped near the do
- Page 106 and 107: 106hurt my stomach and I could feel
- Page 108 and 109: 108and "psycho" and "sulfa," strang
- Page 110 and 111: 110His face had been struggling to
- Page 114 and 115: 114Brinker slid his fingers into th
- Page 116 and 117: 116At the gym a platoon was undress
113"Leper'll be all right. There's nothing like a discharge. Two years after the war's over peoplewill think a Section Eight means a berth on a Pullman car.""Right. Now do you mind? Why talk about something you can't do anything about?""Right."I had to be right in never talking about what you could not change, and I had to make manypeople agree that I was right. None of them ever accused me of being responsible for what hadhappened to Phineas, either because they could not believe it or else because they could notunderstand it. I would have talked about that, but they would not, and I would not talk aboutPhineas in any other way.The Jeeps, troops, and sewing machines were now drawn up next to the Far Commonquadrangle. There was some kind of consultation or ceremony under way on the steps of one ofthe buildings, Veazy Hall. The Headmaster and a few of the senior members of the facultystood in a group before the door, and a number of Army Air Force officers stood in anothergroup within easy speaking distance of them. Then the Headmaster advanced several steps andenlarged his gestures; he was apparently addressing the troops. Then an officer took his placeand spoke longer and louder; we could hear his voice fairly well but not make out the words.Around them spread a beautiful New England day. <strong>Peace</strong> lay on Devon like a blessing, thesummer's peace, the reprieve, New Hampshire's response to all the cogitation and deadness ofwinter. There could be no urgency in work during such summers; any parachutes rigged wouldbe no more effective than napkins.Or perhaps that was only true for me and a few others, our gypsy band of the summerbefore. Or was it rarer even than that; had Chet and Bobby sensed it then, for instance? HadLeper, despite his trays of snails? I could be certain of only two people, Phineas and myself. Sonow it might be true only for me.The company fell out and began scattering through the Far Common. Dormitory windowsbegan to fly open and olive drab blankets were hung over the sills by the dozens to air. Thesewing machines were carried with considerable exertion into Veazy Hall."Dad's here," said Brinker. "I told him to take his cigar down to the Butt Room. He wants tomeet you."We went downstairs and found Mr. Hadley sitting in one of the lumpy chairs, trying not tolook offended by the surroundings. But he stood up and shook my hand with genuine cordialitywhen we came in. He was a distinguished-looking man, taller than Brinker so that hisportliness was not very noticeable. His hair was white, thick, and healthy-looking and his facewas healthily pink."You boys look fine, fine," he said in his full and cordial voice, "better I would say thanthose doughboys—G.I.'s—I saw marching in. And how about their artillery! Sewingmachines!"
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