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One year my dad took
Sweetpea and me to a boy scout camp-o ree at the Southern
Pines hunting lodge. My dad was assistant scout master for
our scout troop. Sweetpea and I were the only two that
could go that weekend. It was a three-day weekend because
of a holiday on Friday.
The Southern Pines hunting
lodge was in several thousand acres of heavy timber, close
to the Neches River and on the north side of highway #7 that
ran from Crockett to Lufkin. On the south side of the
highway was the Davy Crockett National Forest.
The Southern Pines Timber
Company owned this land and had built the hunting lodge for
the owners of the company and their guests. The lodge
itself wasn??™t open, but the boy scouts had permission to use
the grounds around the lodge for their camp-o-ree.
When we arrived at the
camp-o-ree, it was well after dark. We could see several
different camps already set up with tents and fire pits.
One site even had a flag pole in front of the tents. This
site had five tents and they were set in a line that looked
like they had taken a ruler and drown a line.
We didn??™t have a tent, so
we got off to one side, away from the others to set up our
camp. All we did that night was make our beds and go to
sleep. We had a big canvas tarp and we spread it on the
ground. Then the three of us put our bed rolls on the tarp
and folded it back over us. Then we folded a flap of the
tarp over our heads. This made the tarp kind of like an
envelope and it kept the heavy dew off of us.
Hambone, Sweetpea??™s dog
had come with us and he crawled under the tarp and slept
next to Sweetpea. We were all sound asleep when all of a
sudden there was this loud noise that jarred us awake.
It was a bugle and someone
was blowing reveille. We threw back the tarp and the sun
was just coming up. The bugle blowing was coming from that
camp site with the five tents. We saw there wasn??™t going to
be anymore sleeping so we rolled up our bedrolls and tarp
and dug a fire pit so we could build a fire and cook some
breakfast.
Hambone crawled under the
car and wouldn??™t come out. He didn??™t like the sound of that
bugle. I can??™t say that I did either.
By the time I got a fire
going, I looked at the camp with the bugler, and sixteen
boys in full uniform were standing in front of their tents
at attention. A man in a scout uniform was marching up and
down in front of them like he was inspecting them. I stood
there with my mouth open, watching until Sweetpea came over
and asked me what I was looking at?
I pointed at the
inspection and asked him if he thought he would like to be
in that troop? He just looked at me and turned around and
went back to making a fire for dad to cook our breakfast on.
In the mean time dad had
gotten our grub box out of the car and was ready to start
the bacon to cooking. Hambone smelled the bacon and came
out from under the car and sat down next to Dad. He figured
if he stayed close to dad he might get a piece of that
bacon.
About that time, that
bugle started blowing again and hambone forgot the bacon and
ran back under the car. Sweetpea and I looked and that
scout troop was standing around their flag pole saluting as
two of the scouts raised the flag.
Well, we had our breakfast
and were looking around as more cars and pickups drove in.
Everyone was to register and have their camp set up by noon
that Friday. All together there were twelve troops with 102
boys. The camp-o-ree activities were to start at 1:00 P.
M.
At one o??™clock, we all
gathered in front of the lodge building and we received a
schedule of the activities and when our troops were to be at
the various locations for our turn. Sweetpea and i had
signed up for marksmanship, skeet shooting and archery as
well as knot tying and trail following competition.
The first competition was
trail following and some of the scout masters had been
laying out a trail while we were having the meeting. Dad
was one of the ones laying out the trail. It was a timed
event. The trail was marked with stone arrows on the ground
pointing the way and bent over weeds to show a turn. Then
three rocks, one on top of the other to show you were still
on the right trail.
The trail ran in a
semi-circle around the camp. Each troop lined up at the
starting point and a pistol was fired into the air to start
their time. When they found the scout masters that had laid
out the trail another pistol was fired to stop their time.
The troop from Houston
with the sixteen boys in the fancy uniforms and the bugler
were in first place. They had been winning the first place
trophy in every competition for three years and just knew
that they were going to win again.
Sweetpea and I were the
last troop to go and by this time we knew my dad was one of
the scout masters that had laid out the trail. When the
pistol was fired for us to start, we took off running.
Hambone was right with us. After the first five minutes we
were out of sight of everyone and hot on the trail.
Then we missed a marker
that said turn here and we lost the trail. We stopped to
talk this over when Sweetpea had an idea. He told hambone
to find my dad and hambone took off in a dead run. We
followed along behind him and in ten more minutes we were
standing at the finish line next to my dad. The pistol was
fired to stop our time and we had won the first place
trophy.
That night at a big
bonfire, we were presented with our trophy. Boy, you should
have seen that scout master from Houston. He was fit to be
tied and the scouts in his troop stayed well back in the
shadows.
Saturday dawned bright and
clear. Everything was nice but that bugle blowing. Hambone
stayed under the car until after we had eaten breakfast.
Then he came out to get something to eat and then went back
under the car.
The first thing I had on
my schedule that day was the marksman competition. At the
same time Sweetpea had the skeet shoot on his schedule. So
I took my little Remington 22 and went to the rifle range
while Sweetpea took his double barrel 20 gauge shotgun and
went to the skeet field.
When I got to the rifle
range, I found eleven other boys there with their rifles.
Each troop had entered a boy in the competition. We were
divided into two relays of six shooters each. My relay was
called to the firing line first.
I was standing next to the
boy from the Houston troop. I looked at his rifle and it
was one of the fanciest target rifles I had ever seen. It
must have cost a fortune. I thought ???no wonder these guys
win first place in marksmanship every year.???
We each had ten shots at a
target at 50 yards. After the second relay had fired, the
judges scored the targets and told us the winner would be
announced tonight at the bonfire. The trophy would be
presented at that time.
In the mean time, over on
the skeet field Sweetpea had broken ten of his ten clay
birds and two other boys had done the same. So they were
having a shoot off. Ten more birds for each boy. This time
one of the other boys missed one of his and that left
Sweetpea and one other shooter.
Now this boy happened to
be one of the Houston troop. He had a 12 gauge skeet gun
and he knew how to shoot. Hr looked at Sweetpea with his
little 20 gauge double barrel shotgun and couldn??™t
understand how anyone could break ten straight birds with a
gun like that.
They each shot ten more
birds without missing. By this time word had spread about
the big shoot off going on at the skeet field and most of
the boys were there to watch. All of the Houston troop were
cheering for their boy, and the rest of the crowd was
cheering for Sweetpea. They wanted to see someone else win
a first place trophy for a change.
In the fourth round of the
shoot off Sweetpea broke his ten birds. Then the boy from
Houston started on his string. He broke the first nine and
it looked like another tie. But he missed his tenth bird
and Sweetpea had won the first place trophy. The crowd
carried Sweetpea off on their shoulders.
That night at the bonfire
we were presented our trophies. We noticed that none of the
Houston troop was at the bonfire that night.
Sunday morning we were all
up before sunup because we had a sunrise church service down
in front of the lodge. There hadn??™t been any bugle blowing
that morning and when we got back to our camp site we saw
why.
The Houston troop camp
site was empty. No boys, no tents, no anything but the
lonesome flag pole. It didn??™t have a flag on it and it
looked so forlorn there by itself
There were no more
activities, and everyone was to break camp and be gone by
noon. But then hambone ??¦ but no that??™s a whole 'nother
story for a different time.
Copyright 2003
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