The date was the 9th of October, 1965. And, I
had just caught two! Now what was the plan?
A couple of weeks earlier, I had returned home from
Wyoming just in time to receive the call to meet out behind Guion Hall with the
rest of my Fish buddies. I still wasn’t sure this was the path I was to take. I
was making good money working as a roughneck on a core drilling rig—more money than I ever
had before. But still, all I had was a high school education and the barrel of
Vietnam was staring right down at me.
“Ignorance is the curse of God;
Knowledge the wing where with we fly to
Heaven”
(From William
Shakespeare's King Henry VI, Act 4, Scene vii)
I had spent the next week out behind Guion learning to
dress-right-dress, left-face-right-face-about-face, numerous column and
flanking movements; along with the campus-oloy of every building plaque on the
campus and maybe a quad-drillion pushups
I had been taught the extreme importance of my Fish
buddies and just how they would eventually become the longest and most lasting
friendships one would ever experience. No uniforms yet, but I spit shinned the
best pair of shoes I owned every evening before returning to the training the
next morning.
Classes had started and I was into the swing of school
life, but still adjusting to the constant and unrelenting stress of being a
Fish in the largest Corps of Cadets in the United States. Every day was a new
challenge, a test we had to pass—failure
was no longer an option. If we were to make it through the year to come, we
would make it only if we held together and suffered as a group—alone, one could not
survive.
The football team had a new coach this year. Gene Stallings
had returned to campus from Alabama and hopes were high that the program would
be turned around. Three games into the season, it wasn’t looking much better
than last year. The Ags were 1 & 2, having lost to LSU and Texas Tech, but
had beat Georgia Tech on the road. Houston was next up, but this time the game
was at Kyle Field.
Having endured the harassment for weeks now—at the time, it had
seemed like months—I was
looking forward to the Houston game. A long standing tradition gave freshmen
cadets with dates sophomore privileges. This was the break I really needed.
Other than my Fish buddies, I had not been in contact with any of my previous
friends since I had left home to head out for rig work at the start of the
summer. I had to come up with a date.
Finding
the time somewhere, I made my way to the bus station in Bryan and took the
chance to ask Joan if she would like to go to Midnight Yell Practice and the
Game with me that coming weekend. I had dated Joan a couple of times during the
last part of my senior year in high school. She agreed to go with me and the
remainder of the week started to get better.
About
Wednesday, I got the bad news that Joan had been scheduled to work Saturday
night, so there went my date for the football game. However, she was still up
for going to Midnight Yell Practice. Harassment wise, this was better than I
had previously had hoped for.
Then
the first stroke of luck I had had in weeks came right out of the blue. Bill
Johnson, one of my closest friends and a Fish in our next door unit ask me if
he could get his girlfriend, Melba, to set me up with a blind date. OK, things
began to look up after all. Not only was I taking a girl to Yell Practice, I
also had another date for the football game the next night.
Midnight Yell Practice worked out pretty well. By this
time, us Fish had been to seven or eight Yell Practices and we knew all the
yells and what we should do and expect at every turn—it wasn’t easy, but as a group the stress was much
easier to fathom. Friday night, I picked up Joan after she got off work and we
made our way to the campus to join up with my other Fish buddies to take in
Midnight Yell Practice. The feeling of having sophomore privileges was
fantastic—the
privileges weren’t complete—some
of our buddies didn’t have a date, so sometimes we suffered right along with
them—but this was
the best time some of had had for weeks. At the appropriate time, the lights
were turned off and the practice kissing took place—kissing is a tradition that is enjoyed at A&M every
time the Ags score points, regardless the method. Therefore you have to
practice; it’s gotta be done right and practice is how one gets better!
After yell Practice, we all gathered up for a Coke at a
local watering hole. As it was now going on two in the morning, I took Joan
home promising to call her next week.
Bill and I managed to get together the next morning and
he, Melba and I made our way over to my next date’s house so we could figure
out the evening. I knew my date but had never talked with her, both of us
having mutual friends—with
her being a year behind me and still in high school. We agreed that Bill and I
would go to the game in my car because we both had to be at the campus some two
hours before game time due to the march-in. Melba with my still somewhat blind
date would arrive later in Bill’s car and we would all join up under the stands
next to the ramp heading up into the freshman standing section.
Of course, this meant that until I was date connected, I
was once again a Fish and subject to everything that comes with the privileges
of a Fish. I could hardly wait to once again become a privileged sophomore.
Finally the march-in was over and I made my way to meet
my date. Bill and I arrived approximately the same time and we eventually found
a place to stand in Kyle Field for our first home football game.
Even more fortunately for me, the Aggies scored a
touchdown, an extra point and a field goal that evening. I got the chance to
use my practiced kissing talent three times before the game was over.
That’s when the other shoe dropped. With the game close
to ending and the Ags with the ball and Houston not expected to get it again,
us Fish were ordered down to the sidelines to rush the team and carry it off
the field in victory. This is where the sophomore privileges departed me once
again. Standing on the sidelines, the ODs gave us our next set of orders—those not getting to the
players were to capture a Yell Leader and carry him to the Fish Pond at North
Gate; all the way across campus.
Most of my Fish buddies eventually found each other and
we positioned ourselves together on the cinder track, ready to make our way
onto the field and fulfill our destiny—carry
off one of those football players. Houston was doing their best to prolong the
game and get another chance to score and take away what we figured belonged to
us and us alone. The final minute creaked by. Looking back up the student
section—then only
the bottom level on the east side existed—it seemed to me that every face in the crowd
belonged to an upperclassman from my own outfit; each with their eyes watching
every move I made. There was no way I was gonna get back to my date without
chasing somebody on the field and doing a good job of chasing at that.
The crack of the gun finally sounded and the Ags had won
10 to 7. The bang was still echoing around the horseshoe as I sprinted straight
across the field for a football player. I had no chance, those guys were
standing right next to their tunnel and were gone like lightening—in those days they left
the field immediately. I turned toward the Yell Leaders scampering around
trying to not get caught and one was headed straight for where I was standing.
Instinct took over and I tackled him around the left leg just as he zigged
where I had zagged. I was quickly joined by a couple of other Fish—none of who I recognized—but, long story short,
we had him.
My next thought was turned to my date in the stands. I
had to get back to her somehow, but at the moment didn’t have a clue as how I
was gonna accomplish this task. That’s when fate interceded. The Yell Leader in
our possession had managed somehow to get his bill fold and keys out of his
pocket and looking me straight in my eyes, he handed them to me for
safekeeping.
I was trapped.
What could I do? I had to continue on to North Gate and
the Fish Pond. There was no way out of it—I was trapped. I searched the stands where my date
and I had been standing hoping to catch her eye and plead my case. I had no
luck.
Through the north tunnel, making our way, behind the
Memorial Student Center, crossing the Drill Field, up Houston Street and
straight to the Fish Pond; we plodded our course. Tiring about half way, I knew
I had to stay with the group. Arriving first, the six of us tossed our Yell Leader
into the Fish Pond—he
was quickly followed by four more. Standing right on the front line so I was
sure to maintain contact with my Yell Leader, I joined the entire assemblage in
the post-game Yell Practice and then we sang the Aggie Warm Hymn. As everybody
was dispersing, my Yell Leader located me, retrieved his possessions and
thanked me. I started back across campus to try to find my date, that is, if
she was still on campus.
I walked as quickly back down Houston Street as I could
always searching for my date and keeping an eye out for anyone from my outfit.
I skirted the Drill Field and headed into the MSC to see if she was there. I
encountered several of my Fish buddies in the bowling alley and ask about her.
No one had seen her. With a heart full of doom, I started out the back door of
the MSC on my way to my car parked behind G. Rollie White Coliseum.
G. Rollie White Coliseum
Memorial Student Center, Texas A&M
University
Just on a whim, I decided to check out the stadium before
going to my car. As I headed into the east side under-stadium, they were
turning out the lights and the bottom again fell out of my hopes. I thought
that there was no way that my blind date would still be there.
I made my way to the one fire light that remained lit on
the entire east side of Kyle Field and there stood Patsy. My wife of 46+ years
and I have celebrated that evening, her birthday and our first date for some 49
years now—most of
them together except for a few that my Great Uncle Sam saw fit to provide a
couple of road blocks.
Yep, that night I caught two!
