As a New Boy at Kemper, you learned that it was you against your other squad mates for best shine and cleanest room. Then it was squad verses squad. Platoon verse platoon. Company verse company. High school verses College verses the Military department, Athletic department, Academic department; Band verses Guardsmen. You name it. You were always verses someone. But it never meant anything bad. But when you got to Kemper against Boonville. That was another story. Not all of Boonville, as many facility and staff came from there. But as a cadet you never felt really welcome too much in certain places. It was obvious; we were getting a better education. Our cadets were polite and nice. The local girls liked us cause we were focused. Many of our guys were getting commissions or going onto bigger and better things. And since I came from a small Missouri town, I know that we did things that Boonville school kids never did. At that time, their big thing was usually some Senior trip to a beach. My senior trip, after 4 hard years at Kemper, I got from my parents was a trip to Europe. I had already marched in the Cherry Blossom Parade in Washington DC, played a military division review at Ft Riley, actually showing up their band (thanks Chief), we marched at many, many parades from St. Louis, Kansas City, Columbia where we out performed bands twice our size. We headed for the Worlds Fair in Knoxville, TN and was the official band at the 1983 Dallas Grand Prix. I can't even begin to list all the trophies or award the Guardsmen received from their appearances, performances and competitions. That now-a-days people would freak out that high school and junior college students were throwing rifles around. The band even cut a vinyl record. So yeah, some people in Boonville being against us would be appropriate. But at Kemper you knew someone always had your back. Whether in the same company or even if you were high school and they were college; it was us against them.
The following is a slightly dramatized fictional description of an incident that happened during my New Boy year. This is how I think it started. The names have been changed to protect the less than innocent. Seriously; though the names are familiar, they are not who was in charge and I have no idea what was actually said.
Two boys were out of breath after running ten blocks, but their goal was in sight. They had to go on a roundabout way to get there as to avoid being seen, but they were almost home. The smaller one was trying to stop the blood coming from his nose and breath at the same time, “What do you think Hudson?”
The taller one, who was actually younger than the small one glanced around cautiously. He then looked down at himself, “Dam, I got dirt and grass stains all over these pants, and I just got them back from the dry cleaners.”
“That’s nothing,” the smaller one said, his name tag said Brooks, “I got blood all over my shirt. I don’t know if it’ll even come out.”
“Yeah but you have a couple of cleans ones; I’ll have to wait till Thursday to get these back. And the only other pair I got are the summer ones. And they are light and its getting to be real cold.”
“If we don’t hurry up and get to campus we are going to be dead.”
“If we stay out here we might get dead. Ok, looks clear,” as he glanced up and down the night shrouded street. With trees lining the sides, the darkness was deeper, more desperate. No cars moved up or down the street.
“Let’s go!” And the two made a run for their campus. They had to cross the street, then down two blocks to get to the buildings where they could disappear inside and relative safely. As they were jogging down the sidewalk, a car turned down the street. They were briefly illuminated in the beams of light. In that time, you could see two young boys dressed in grays pants with a black stripe. Both wore blue long sleeved shirts with a black tire tucked inside. They had name tags and wore gold collar discs. They clutched hats in their hands as they picked up speed.
Making it to the building, the car passed by without incident. Both boys breathed a sigh of relief. They were over the first hurdle. But they knew that was the easy part. Crossing the dark courtyard formed by four buildings they headed for their company area.
When they got inside and had enough light to see by, they knew they couldn’t report in looking like they did. Ducking quickly into the bathroom they started to wash the blood and the dirt off themselves. They had just started when they heard two people moving down the hallway, and one of them had taps on their shoes.
“Shit!”
No sooner was the word out of his mouth than two figures appeared in the doorway, “What do have we here?”
“Stand at attention when an officer is talking with you,” said the other one as they made their way into the tiled and brick room. Their voices bounced off the stalls and the communal showers. The two new ones were older than the boys by a few years, but they were similarly dressed, except both had ribbons over their left breast pocket and each had a black and gold cross centered on the left pocket.
The two boys immediately went to attention, even though they had water running and were in the process of trying to clean up.
The taller and larger one with the nametag of Windsor examined both of the boys before turning to the other, “What have we here first-sergeant?” Then turning back to them, “Have you all checked in from G.O.? It’s almost taps.” He then looked a little closer at the two, “Have you two been fighting?”
The two boys glanced at each other, “What are you doing looking at each other? Lt. Windsor asked you a question!” First Sergeant Selfridge bellowed.
“Um, not each other sir.”
“Sir?! I’m not an officer,” Selfridge said moving into their faces, “I work for a living! So what happened between you two?"
Brooks finally couldn’t take it anymore and bowed his head and started to cry.
“What are you crying for?” Selfridge asked.
Windsor moved up then and ordered, “At ease. Let’s hear what they have to say first-sergeant.”
Hudson went to a modified parade rest, while Brooks got his crying under control. “Now, tell us what happened,” Windsor said as he motioned for Selfridge to back up a bit.
“Sir,” Hudson began and looked over at Brooks to make sure he was getting himself under control, "we were up at Wellivers’ Drive Inn. We wanted to get some ice cream before coming back to campus. We hadn’t yet ordered when a car loaded with four Boondogs pulled up besides us. They started laughing and pointing at us. At that time I wanted to get out there and finally got Brooks to agree. By that time they had gotten out of their car and were coming up on us. We started to walk away, but they had us surrounded. About that time, three more joined us.
“They then started -o push and shove us, and that’s how Brooks got his noise blooded. They shoved him, tripping him and he fell on the ground and hit his face against the sidewalk. Seeing the blood, a couple of them left. It was then we took off. The problem was we were running away from campus. They started to chase us. But we did good at dodging them and we lost ‘em. We still ran to make sure. Then we started back to campus.”
Selfridge stepped back into the hall, “New Boy!” he yelled.
A scramble of feet could be heard and a number of cadets appeared before the First Sergeant in many stages of dress and undress. He immediately focused on one that was dressed, “Becko. Go find the CO and ask him to join us. The rest of you get ready for lights out.”
With that the crowd that had been there quickly dispersed.
“Well ‘Stretch,’” Selfridge said softly to Windsor as they watched the two boys wash blood and dirt off, “what do you think is going to happen? I mean, this is just the first 8 weeks of school. Usually we never have a problem until spring.”
Windsor had folded his arms and looked down at his small charges, “I don’t know Tom. We’re from here and yet we're not. I am betting on the Tyrell’s; it sounds like their style: gang up on those smaller than them.” Then, “Go get the company’s first aid kit, we can use the alcohol and clean up some of those scrapes. I don’t think they have anything worse than that.”
Before either could move, the swinging wooden door into the latrines were slammed open and a couple of people were hurrying in. “Attention!” Windsor ordered when he saw who it was. Not only was it his company’s CO, but also the Battalion Commander.
“Rest!” he ordered and then turned to Windsor: “Report.”
Moving to a modified parade rest Windsor retold what happened. He ended on, “We’ll get the first aid kit and patch them up. Doesn’t look any worse than football practice.”
All the time he was getting the report, the cadet Battalion Commander stood looking at the two who were finishing up what they could do; and were becoming increasingly uncomfortable at all the attention.
Turning to Delta Company’s CO, the B.C ordered, “Get your company ready for a formation on the court. I don’t know how long until we do it, but listen for the bells.”
“Formation on the court sir?”
A strong fire could be seen in his eyes as he thought things through, “Yeah. We are putting a stop to this shit.”
“Yes sir,” the Delta’s CO replied. “Uniform?”
“D’s, field jackets and black gloves. It’s going to be cold.” He turned and was almost to the door when he turned back and nodded, “Glad you boys are ok.” Then back at Delta Company’s leadership he sighed, “I’m sorry it happened to your people, but I hope to put a stop to this. Remember, listen for the bell. First call, fall out onto the court and make sure everyone is there and ready by the 2nd bell.”
A chorus of “yes sir” from the leadership followed him out as he left.
“What do you make of that?”
Selfridge watched the door swing back and forth and stop before replying, “Don’t know sir. Sounds like we are heading for a war.”
How this may have ended was having our president at the time, a retired two-star general talking the 8-yr cadet battalion commander from marching the whole Corps up town and cleaning house. He had the college company in civies and the rest of the Corps in olive drab battle uniforms. Closet rods and broomsticks. And we were standing on the court at 2300 hrs.
If you were never at Kemper you wouldn’t understand why this bonds you. This bond, for many started at 7th grade. For me it started my high school freshman year and it continues today. I now know why men and women who have been to Kemper yearn to reunite. Not to tell stories or look at old pictures. Not to laugh or cry. Old Boys gather because we long to be with the men and women who once acted their best, who made us better people, better leaders, better human beings…men and women who also suffered and sacrificed…who were stripped raw in front of us, right down to their souls. I did not pick these men and women. They were delivered by fate to us at Kemper. But I know them in a way I know no others. I have never given anyone such trust. They were willing to guard something more precious than my life. They carry the memory of me at that time, a better me than I am now. It was part of the unspoken bargain we all made…the reason we are so close. A bond like no other; broken not in buildings being torn down or even in death. That is why there are those that are jealous and will never understand. We are Kemper. That’s all that needs to be said. No other explanation needed or given.
3rd generation Old Boy
Numquam non paratus
