When loyalty was severely tested.

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The three main rascals of Fisher Hill in Carthage in the forty's were Tommy Moss, Sonny Apple and Lewis Butler. These three played, ran, fought and otherwise associated with each other daily. Other male members of the neighborhood were allowed to associate with this unholy trio on occasion, but Tommy, Sonny and Lewis could always be counted on to be at the center of an occurrence of most any kind.

It was either Tommy or Sonny who owned a BB Gun. Lewis was never allowed to have one! His mother always gave the standard answer for not allowing him to have it:, "NO. You'll shoot your eye out!" (The movie, "A Christmas Story" just about says it all on this point.)

At the top of Fisher Hill, Fisher Avenue dead-ends at what was once a circular drive for the Antebellum home at the top of the hill. Fisher Avenue is lined with old Sugar Maple trees that stand 10 feet from the curb on each side, but they are so large that their limbs intertwine above the street. It becomes a fiery, golden tunnel in the fall. In fact Fisher Avenue and Main Street in Carthage in the fall are often spectacular.

On this particular occasion the Trio was seated at the end of the Moss sidewalk, taking pot-shots with the BB gun. Little if anything escaped their attention: the telephone pole, the nearest maple tree, a wandering dog, or a bird perched high above on a power line. It was late in the summer afternoon and the sun had just about set. In the half-light before dark the lightning bugs were beginning to appear and the katydids had begun their songs, when Chicken Mc Clanahan came driving up Fisher and made a turn on-to Cullum away from the seated Trio.

Author’s note: Almost everyone in Carthage in the first half of the century had a nickname. There was Booger Mc Cormick, Slicker Snake Huffines, Rubber Dick Huffines, Hog Liver Key - the Huffines family had all the best nick names, and a hundred others.

Tommy was seated between Sonny and Lewis and at that moment, and Tommy was in possession of the BB Gun. Chicken made the turn away from the group. Tommy raised the gun and glanced a BB off the rear window of Chicken's car. Tommy dropped the BB Gun in front of all three of us and said, "DON'T TELL HIM WHO DID IT!"

Chicken was mad! Livid is probably a more appropriate word. He jumped out of the car and shouted, "WHICH ONE OF YOU BOYS SHOT MY CAR?"


Now this is the point where loyalty was severely tested! Sonny, Tommy and Lewis were not very mature, probably nine and ten years old respectively, but they were smart enough to know that this episode could rapidly turn into a period of substantial and sustained pain if not handled with proper aplomb and decorum.

The Trio knew that Chicken had a temper and it was possible that he had had a "drink". (It is true that you can't trust most men who won't take a drink, but it is also true that you'd better look out for some people when they do take one! Chicken was a member of both categories.)

At the split second, in the blink of an eye, and as quick a hick-up, Sonny pointed right and Lewis pointed left: Tommy was caught between points! The Trio received an appropriate, and well-deserved, tongue-lashing from Chicken which was all quickly forgotten except for the part about their parents would be told if they ever did such a thing again.

The Trio's loyalty had been tested and overcome by expediency!

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Military Man

Some years ago I was playing pool with a friend at The American Legion. He asked, "Were you ever in the military?" Then not long after I got some promotional literature from the same organization asking me to join if I could verify that I'd been in the military for only one day!

I was in the army for one day, one day only, and that was ENOUGH!

Actually my military career began in college, at Tennessee Polytechnic Institute – later renamed TN Tech University. In 1958 every freshman and sophomore was required to take ROTC, (pronounced "rot'c" which stood for Reserve Officer's Training Corps.) or, he took physical education. The T.P.I. "Corps of Cadets" was a Signal Corps Regiment, Battalion or Group or something: I never learned just which exactly!

Being legally blind in one eye I suspected that I would never be accepted in the military. And none of the guys I knew were in physical education, so we all took ROTC whether we were serious about killing people or not. I haven't had to kill anyone yet, but if I ever do I know the ROTC training I had will serve me well.

Every music major was automatically placed in the ROTC Band. The commander was in cahoots with the band director, and most of us would rather have been in the band than being screamed at by company commanders and platoon leaders: seniors and juniors who were inordinately intent about being in step and "dressing up that line." We band guys knew how to march and stay in line.

The Freshman year was OK: We learned small weapons' maintenance, positioning of a mortar and sighting in the target, but most of all we learned posturing! It was 1958, and there were many upperclassmen who took their R.O.T.C. "Rank" seriously. They had also seen every movie ever produced which showed just how rough it was getting through the military training program. Therefore they tried to emulate the toughest of the Drill Instructors that Hollywood had conjured up. The worst of the lot were the officers in the Pershing Rifles, TPI's award winning drill team.

So on Thursdays, “Drill Day,” between 3:00PM and 5:00PM the "Officers" would attempt to make life a living hell for the underclassmen! During our Sophomore year the R.O.T.C. Band had decided as a group not to attend the Military Ball. To the officers of the Pershing Rifles, this was an unbelievable affront! After all, the proceeds from the Military Ball went directly to the Pershing Rifles! How could we sniveling, trouble makers dare challenge the omnipotent Pershing Rifles?

An inspection of the ROTC Band was demanded and granted by the military faculty. We had been promised that the inspection would be particularly rigorous. The Officers were solemn and strict and dispensed demerits to all concerned. Demerits had to be "worked off" prior to next Thursdays drill: One demerit meant one hour cleaning rifles, sweeping or some other onerous task.

We in the R.O.T.C. Band knew that if you went to the armory to work off a demerit on Friday or Monday or Tuesday the Sergeant Major in charge would make you clean some M1 Rifles, etc. But if you went in a group on Wednesday afternoon about 3:00 there was nothing to do.

So we worked off our demerits late on Wednesday afternoon by one guy pulling down the window shades and the next guy raising the window shades. It took about ten minutes. The Sergeant Major knew all of us and got a great laugh out of our demerit problem.
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Moving ahead four years:
The USA was fervently providing "assistance" to the Republic of Vietnam in 1963. We had had advisers there since the late fifties, but by 1963 we were getting our guys killed! I received my notice to report for my physical exam in the spring of 1963.

Stripped to our underwear with our valuables in a drawstring bag we sat or stood in line to pee in a bottle, and have our hearing, vision and reflexes tested. Being legally blind in one eye, I knew that I was not a candidate for induction. However the "shave-tail" doctors who were administering the tests wouldn't listen and couldn't verify my damaged cornea and optic nerve. Then to top it all off they stamped my papers "Inductee" instead of "Pre-inductee" as they should have been stamped: I was on my way to Fort Polk Louisiana the very next day!

I finally got some older doctor to listen to me and he signed me in for the night to be examined by a "Downtown Doctor" the following day. That evening I and the real inductees were in the United States Army! The evening meal was beans and potatoes: two kinds of beans and two kinds of potatoes. An army travels on its stomach, you know. After supper we were required to police the area. That's Army Talk for pick up trash which in this case was cigarette butts. There didn't seem to be anything to gain from fighting the order, so we went about policing the area.

We were encouraged to hit the sack early. It seemed appropriate since there was absolutely nothing else to do. I was aroused in the middle of the night by someone rummaging through my locker. When I sat up in bed the perpetrator vanished and the bunk of black boy two bunks over was bouncing. I arose and found that my single dollar was still in my wallet. I then spoke a vow to whoever was interested about all manners of physical consequences that would befall anyone who attempted to repeat the deed.

The next morning I was examined by a "real doctor" who spotted the malady. As it turned out he had trained the eye, ear, nose and throat specialist who had played a big part in my personal miracle of not losing my right eye! I returned to Macon County and to band directing without being required to serve another day.