Draft copy, Girl with a Camera


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Citation

Material Information

Title:
Draft copy, Girl with a Camera
Series Title:
Girl with a camera
Creator:
Meyer, Carolyn
Place of Publication:
Tampa, Florida
Publisher:
University of South Florida
Publication Date:
Language:
English
Physical Description:
1 online resource, 117p.

Subjects

Subjects / Keywords:
Bourke-White, 1904-1971 -- Juvenile fiction
Biographical fiction
Women photographers -- Fiction
Historical fiction

Notes

Abstract:
Partial draft of Girl with a Camera; includes opening through chapter 12 Includes notes and revisions by Carolyn Meyer and editor Carolyn P. Yoder.

Record Information

Source Institution:
University of South Florida
Holding Location:
University of South Florida
Rights Management:
All applicable rights reserved by the source institution and holding location.
Resource Identifier:
H43-00012-019 ( USFLDC DOI )
h43.12-19 ( USFLDC Handle )

Postcard Information

Format:
Mixed Material

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Full Text

PAGE 4

Sometime after midnight, a thump—loud and jarring. A torpedo slams into the side of our ship, flinging me out of my bunk. The ship is transporting thousands of troops and hundreds of nurses. It is Decem ber 1942, and our country is at war. I am Margaret BourkeWhite, the only woman photographer covering this war. The U.S. Army Air Forces has handed me a plum assignment: photographing an Allied attack on the Germans. I wanted to fly in one of our B-17 bombers, but the top brass ordered me to travel instead in the flagship of a huge convoy, headed from England through the Strait of Gibraltar towards the coast of North Africa. It would be safer than flying, the officers argued. As it turns out, they were dead wrong. Beneath the surface of the Mediterranean, German submarines glide, silent and lethal, stalking their prey. One of their torpedoes has found its mark. I grab my camera bag and one camera, leaving everything else behind, and race to the bridge. I hear the order blare: “Abandon ship! Abandon ship!” There is not enough light and not enough time to take photographs. I head for Lifeboat No. 12 and board with the others assigned to it, mostly nurses. We’ve drilled for it over and over, but this is not a drill. My mouth is dry with fear. Our lifeboat drops into the sea. The boat is filled with water from the torpedo splashback. We use our helmets to bail. The rudder is broken. All around us in the water, people are struggling to survive. We rescue some, lose others. A voice cries in the darkness, “Help me! I’m all alone!” We try to row toward that desperate voice, but without a rudder we can do nothing. The cries grow fainter. Then, silence.

PAGE 5

I take my turn rowing, my arms aching and my hands blistered. Someone in a nearby lifeboat begins to sing “You Are My Sunshine.” We all join in. Even off-key, it makes the rowing easier. We watch silently as flames swallow our wounded ship. The rest of the convoy has scattered, to keep from giving the German U-boats another target. In the bright moonlight I see that a single destroyer stays behind, and we wonder if they will come to pick us up. But no—they drop depth charges to try to get rid of any remaining German submarines. Someone is shouting into a megaphone, but we can’t make out the words. Maybe he’s wishing us luck. The destroyer sails on. Now we are entirely alone. The moon sinks into the dark sea. I think longingly of chocolate bars, the emergency rations I’d tossed out of my camera bag to make room for extra lenses. The hours pass. I’m wet to the skin, wet and cold. Hungry, too. I could do with a bite of chocolate. Dawn comes slowly, the pale colors blooming in the eastern sky. I wonder again if I will survive, if any of us will. Irrationally, I mourn the loss of my elegant cosmetics case, covered with beautiful ostrich skin and filled with ivory jars from Hong Kong. I can’t imagine why it matters. It’s December 22—the winter solstice, someone reminds us. No wonder the sun is so late making its appearance. We cheer when it finally rises majestically from a flat gray sea. I get out my camera and begin taking pictures. We look miserable and bedraggled, but we’re alive. One of the nurses jokes that she’s ready to place her order for breakfast: two eggs, sunny-side up, no broken yolks, please. “And hot coffee!” adds another. “Buttered toast!” In midafternoon someone spots a flying boat, a large seaplane. It flies low over us, waggling its wings, and we all wave back, assuring each other that help will come soon. The

PAGE 6

sun sinks lower, lower. There is no sign of rescuers. It won’t be long before darkness descends, and then they won’t be able to find us. Wet, cold, exhausted, crowded in with dozens of others—all wondering what will happen to us, if we will live or die—I remember my home, my parents, those early years when I had no idea where life would take me, only that I wanted it to be bold and exciting, anything but what it was then ... .

PAGE 7

did No card-playing. No gum-chewing.

PAGE 8

No card-playing. No gum-chewing. No slang. No silk stockings. Why is it better? VotÂ’s der dum-goozled idea?

PAGE 9

good perfect. not ironic

PAGE 10

IÂ’m sheÂ’s isnÂ’t wouldnÂ’t not

PAGE 12

looked

PAGE 13

No nicknames. Heterodon platirhinos.

PAGE 14

any any

PAGE 15

look thought.

PAGE 18

jar of pickles

PAGE 21

very

PAGE 22

the next day

PAGE 24

too The yellow dog was tired and hungry and also very dirty. Was The dog trotted wearily down the dark alley, searching for something—anything—to eat. Stickers Burrs matted his filthy yellow fur.

PAGE 26

I had won! The Frog Book The Moth Book The Reptile Book

PAGE 28

a star

PAGE 33

Should women be granted the right to vote?

PAGE 34

Rosalie The Bluffers lot

PAGE 35

Bluffer The Oracle I am Sir Oracle, and when I ope my lips, let no dog bark.

PAGE 36

Merchant of Venice A daughter of the gods, divinely tall, / And most divinely fair. Her glorious fancies come from far, / Beneath the silver evening-star, / And yet her heart is ever near Margaret B. White. Nickname: Peggy. Ambition: Herpetologist.

PAGE 37

women

PAGE 38

The Oracle

PAGE 39

had other school class Our Red and Gray weÂ’ll neÂ’er forget, / WeÂ’ll always to our Class be true. / What eÂ’er we do throughout our lives / WeÂ’ll keep unstained the Red and Blue.

PAGE 40

excellent

PAGE 41

do

PAGE 43

driven . do From now on everything will be different

PAGE 46

me

PAGE 48

that a mature and intelligent young woman

PAGE 50

Celebration?

PAGE 51

When he kisses me?

PAGE 52

Should I have bought him a gift? But what would have been the right thing to buy?

PAGE 53

Bonsoir, m’sieur et mam’selle poulet poulet potage d’oignon vol au ventcoq au vin potage mousse au chocolat demitasse de café think

PAGE 55

her

PAGE 60

clink clink me at all

PAGE 61

something

PAGE 63

his

PAGE 65

see see

PAGE 66

how

PAGE 67

. pala inky

PAGE 68

"Sounds swell"?

PAGE 69

me

PAGE 70

see

PAGE 75

?

PAGE 78

Photography Working with children. Seamstress

PAGE 80

How on earth did she know about that?

PAGE 82

care

PAGE 83

my theirs

PAGE 84

The Michiganensian Â’Ensian Â’Ensian

PAGE 87

future

PAGE 89

Â’Ensian

PAGE 90

Â’Ensian boys Â’Ensian.

PAGE 91

crazy my

PAGE 93

Is this the wallflower who never got asked to dance eve n once in all the time we knew her?

PAGE 94

why

PAGE 95

that

PAGE 96

half

PAGE 97

you quite quite

PAGE 98

Paradise Lost I want you all to myself.

PAGE 99

The Importance of Being Earnest Volpone

PAGE 100

The mind is its own place, and in itself Can make a heav ’' n of hell, a hell of heav ’' n. Two roads diverged in a wood, and I— I took the one less traveled by, And that has made all the difference.

PAGE 101

For the rest of our lives! you

PAGE 103

was

PAGE 105

driven

PAGE 106

feel

PAGE 107

feel tired, canÂ’t sleep, no appetite

PAGE 108

did FOR RENT

PAGE 111

Â’Ensian Â’Ensian

PAGE 114

think


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