[Mitch]

I am reluctant to even mention this here – it is unflattering to me, and a story that goes against what we all respect in each other – namely, guys who are expected to be hard as nails and able to take anything handed out and ask for more. That may be the case – for a young soldier, but should it apply to an 11 year old tenderfoot?

I tried scouting for about 3 months - one of the darker memories I had as a kid growing up. I subscribed to Boys Life and read about the Scouts for a couple of years prior to turning 11 when I could actually join. I will never forget the day after I did turn 11, I went up to the local Episcopal Church off of Elizabeth Ave in Fort Worth - officially joined the troop. Having read about Scouts for years, having watched all he Spin & Marty movies from Disney it was one of the happiest days of my young life.

That next day, I had a list of things I needed to buy. My uniform, a scout guide book, a scout knife, etc. My parents took me to Leonard Brothers Store in Fort Worth to get all the gear and - the next week I showed up in all my regalia. That was probably the last good day I had as a scout.

I did not know about the Initiation rites that were in vogue back then - becoming a slave for all the other guys, becoming a patsy for every joke, getting slammed to the ground repeatedly in some game we were playing in which I seemed to be the object of the game - I recognized what was going on, but wanted to be a Scout so much I just went along with it - until the Camperee two months later - a total disaster, also my last week as a scout.
Everything I had was stolen from me - my tent was torn down several times, finally it was thrown into the creek near by - without a tent, me and this other newbie had to sleep in the open - it was a cloudless night so we didn't have to worry about rain, until the eggs started flying. During the night, about every five minutes, an egg would get lobbed into our sleeping area - eventually I woke up the Scout Master and complained - he laughed and told me to just hang in there, the other guys were just having fun. Getting no help from him, the other guy and I climbed up in a tree and spent the night there - staying awake, no one saw us up there, but we saw them come looking for us - we stayed quiet, I do remember wishing I had a few bricks with me.
When I finally got home the next day, I had no hat, no tent, no knife, no scout book, just an egg stained sleeping bag and back pack. I never went back. I was young, just a few months past 11 years old.

Perhaps if my dad had been a Scout, he could have prepared me better, or taken a greater interest, or if the Scout Master had lived up to the image as portrayed in Boy’s Life – it would have been different, but as it was, I was just too green and felt no encouragement from anyone to continue. Also, I never learned whether what went on with me was normal or an abortion.

The frustration of that experience stayed with me for years - later on when I went into the Army - I kept my guard up, but that is when I noticed the difference - in Basic - we got abused, but we all did, together, not just me – it wasn’t the same. It was better – it was real. By the time I went into SF that scouting experiacne was basically forgotten - a non factor, but all the same, I made sure that nothing, no person, no amount of abuse, nor any humiliating act was going to keep me away from my goal – don’t know if that is actually a correlation or not – but that Camperee at age 11 was the last time I ever let anyone get the better of me – I don’t credit scouting for that, but I do credit my personal scouting experience as having value in preparing me, maturing me and giving me some insight into myself.