"The only way to win the war is to carry it right home to the foe!"

Below, in more of the bold type, it concluded:

"Don't delay a moment---while you hesitate your country waits!"

From beginning to end Jack read the appeal again. Before his eyes
in fancy flashed the picture of a long, lithe steel vessel skimming
the ocean, captain and crew on the lookout for the enemy, the Stars
and Stripes flapping from the tailrail. For an instant he imagined
himself a member of the crew, gazing through the periscope at a
giant German battleship---yes, firing a torpedo that leaped away to
find its mark against the gray steel hull of the foe!

Up in the dormitories some chap was nimbly fingering "Dixie" on the
mandolin. The strains came down to the youth on the campus through
the giant oak trees that half obscured the facade of "old Brighton."
Over on the athletic field a bunch of freshmen "rookies" of the
school battalion were being put through the manual of arms by an
instructor. Jack could hear the command: "Present arms!"

"I guess that means me," he said to himself. And why not? Hadn't
Joe Little and Harry Corwin and Jimmy Hill left school to join the
aviation service? Weren't Jed Flarris and Phil Martin and a bunch
of Brighton boys in Uncle Sam's navy? And hadn't Herb Whitcomb and
Roy Flynn made history in the first-line trenches? Yes, the boys of
Brighton were doing their bit.

In another moment Jack had crushed the newspaper into his pocket---his
decision made---jumped from the bench under the old oak tree and was