Entry 2

When Mr. Prud'homme showed up at our door this morning, I knew we were in serious trouble. But Finny didn't miss a beat; he immediately began working his charm on the austere-looking man. As he rambled on and on about the excuses for our absence at dinner, the look on Mr. Prud'homme softened. It was clear that Finny's hypnotic eloquence had loosened the man's grip on trying to keep his solemn demeanor. Sensing his opportunity, Finny corroborated on his story by admitting that we had jumped from the tree, but quickly avoided punishment by explaining that we had only done so to prepare ourselves for the possibility of the draft age being lowered. I couldn't believe it! Finny had talked his way out of being punished, and did so without telling a single lie! He may have stretched the truth, but told the events of that night as truthfully as if he had been sworn under oath. Later, at the tea party, he pulled the same trick on Mr. Patch-Withers when he accidentally revealed his use of the Devon School tie as a belt, explaining that it was a symbolic tribute to the war effort. After the tea party, we decided to jump from the tree again. It was then that I lost balance on the branch; Finny instantly sprang out to catch my arm. It wasn't until later that I realized how lucky I was that he had prevented my fall. Finny had certainly saved my life.

Entry 1

The Summer Session is in full swing. It was put in place only to speed up our education, a “crash course” in a way, so that a new batch of young men in the senior class can graduate to be sent out to fight on the front lines of Europe and the Pacific as soon as possible. But for us Upper-Middlers, thoughts of the war are on the back burner, and the possibility of being drafted is still far from being a cause for concern. I consider myself lucky for being an Upper-Middler, because not having to worry about actual involvement in the war—for the foreseeable future, at least—gives me the luxury to focus on my studies, rather than be subjected to the intensive physical hardening programs and first-aid training courses forced upon the seniors to prepare them for combat. But I’m also grateful to have Finny as a friend, to give me an occasional and much-needed distraction from schoolwork. Today we went to the river and stayed out until past dinner time. Finny had somehow talked me into jumping from the enormous tree into the river below. “When they torpedo the troopship, you can’t stand there admiring the view! Jump!” he shouted. I later denied his accusation that I allowed myself to be shamed into it, though I knew it was true. “Oh yes I did. I’m good for you that way. You have a tendency to back away from things otherwise.” Sometimes Finny makes me wonder whether he can read me like a book, or if he really knows me inside and out, like a true friend does. I guess I might never know for sure.

Left: Finny jumping out of the tree into the Devon River.

Right: The crew (From left to right): Me, Bobby Zane, Finny, Elwin 'Leper' Lepellier, and Chet Douglass.