fish Orientation Week

Two years before we donned the white belts and earned the right to be called Surge Butts, the young men in this room, hole as we had to call it, came together for fish orientation week…one of the most fascinating weeks of our lives.  We really were not sure what was in store for us.  But with the help of two juniors, our cadre, Mr. Dougherty and Mr. Gallagher, we joined 1,200 other incoming freshmen to learn about the Corps of Cadets at Texas A&M. We learned the basics of what we would need to know to survive our first year.  Although we may look like a unified bunch by having fun together and drinking a few beers, I was 17 in this photo wearing the blue shirt and hiding behind the Miller High Life and Michelob bottles, we really didn’t know each other and true unity would not come until the fall.  Before then, we would be physically broken, we would sleep through countless classes, we would cry, we would leave the Corps of Cadets, one of us would write checks from another ones check book, and some of us would fail out of the University altogether.  

One of the first things we had to learn were our fish answers, there were only four.  “Yes Sir”, “No Sir”, “No excuse Sir”, and “Sir, not being informed to the highest degree of accuracy, I hesitate to articulate for fear that I may deviate from the true course of rectitude Sir.  In short Sir, I am a very dumb fish, Sir, and do not know Sir”.  This had to be recited in less than five seconds to avoid even more hazing at the hands of our upper classmen.

We also learned that an Aggie doesn’t lie, cheat, or steal, nor tolerate those who do.  Correctly and fortunately the classmate who didn’t know about the stealing clause was discovered writing those checks from fish Colwell's checkbook and was sent home.  It took the rest of us some time to learn our place.  First we had much more to learn.

We learned how to march.  We learned how to eat like fish.  We learned how to hit a brace, the wall, and our faces.  We also learned how to whip out to upper classmen.  Whipping out is about hand-shakes and greetings and not about whipping out other parts of our anatomy…that part didn’t get much use the first semester…unless, of  course you were fish Edminster.

So Howdy fish buds.  I’m fish Muccio from Sterling Park Virginia taking Mechanical Engineering.  Whip out and tell us what you remember about FOW.

I Know Surge Butt

This picture was taken in the spring of 1985 at the main drill field on the campus of Texas A&M University.  It's a picture from "Final Review".  Those happy cadets, we call them Corps Turds, waited two long years to put on those white belts, hold their two index fingers together, whoop out loud, and of course say "Surge Butt".  All except fish Colwell, he's the third cadet from the right.  He knew Surge Butt when he was a freshman.  And that cost the rest of us a lot of time on our face, at a leaning rest as we referred to it in Old Army days.  And now it seems we are indeed old.  Twenty-six years later and Final Review is no longer held on the main drill field, it is held in Kyle Field.  The 55 plaques on the trucks of 55 trees that surround the main drill field are no longer able to witness this rite of passage.  I don't know if I'm sad about that...I do know that I am sad about something else.  These friends drifted away from me over the past 26 years.  Technology and the passage of time have reunited us this past week.  The cadet on the far right is no longer with us.  His name is Cliff Bland and he in fact passed in 1991... twenty years ago this weekend.  It was a twenty year memorial service conducted by his old unit to commemorate his sacrifice during the first Gulf War, at the Battle of Khafji, that sparked this impromtu reunion of buds in cyberspace.

The rest of the cadets in this picture, starting from the left are Blake, Vandewalle, Marek, Colwell, and Tribo.  These names were indelibly etched into my brain, yet until this week, were lost.  When you think about it, without the internet, this reunion could never have occurred.  And now, our email has exploded with war stories and old buds being located and all joining into the conversation.  Stories like this from Blake:

"...that was the Pontiac T-1000, the same car that we did six 360's on a wet night racing back for midnight yell practice. We hit the grass and mud median, popped both tires on my side. Then we tried to get out the passenger side but my door is in a foot of mud.  Cliff's door is now three and a half feet up in the air, we crawl out his side, two seconds later we are picked up by our Bonfire Buddies and we are off to midnight yell! That's our buddy Cliff! How about when Tribo and Marek were getting robbed in Ft Worth and Cliff is in the next room just beating on the walls! While Vandy and Caldwell blow up the yellow Datsun looking at tail! Now that was a Corps Trip!"

It would be a shame not to capture some more of the stories here, on this blog, for all time.  Then we can share and reflect on them over and over again.  So with this first blog, which I proudly dedicate to Cliff and another successful mid-night yell practice, let's get this cyber party started. 


But before I forget, here are a few of the newly minted Surge Butts from Viking-17. From left to right, Hoffman, Barroso, Bullock, Forman, and yours truly.  MIA from the picture are Wheat, Hammond, Aubuchon, Tevis, and McCaskill.