Who are the eight Texas Aggie medal of honor recipients?
Horace S. Carswell Jr.
George D. Keithley
Thomas W. Flower
Turney W. Leonard
William G. Harell
Eli L. Whitely
Lloyd H. Hughes
and Clarence E. Sasser
- Campusology #19
If I had been hesitant before, I was the complete opposite now. As I drove down to College Station the next morning to begin the rigors of life as a cadet, I was excited and could not help feeling motivated to be a part of the greatest and oldest tradition on campus. From that point forward there was absolutely no question that I was “all in.” While I would be entering the university officially as an undergraduate transfer student, in the Corps of Cadets, I would be recognized as a freshman or “fish.” To be a fish in the Corps is to arrive at the lowest and most humbling position. You have no rank and no privileges. I didn’t know much about the Corps but I at least knew that.
On the days I checked into the Corps and then almost punched, I wore jeans and whatever shirt I wanted. Now I was required to wear what was deemed as the fish uniform for FOW. It has since changed but back in the fall of 2017, all fish wore a plain white t-shirt with our last names printed across the front. The “uniform” continued with jeans and “low-quarters” which were the rigid, black, military dress shoes. The ensemble was completed by adorning the tan fish cap with the A&M logo. We were also required to wear the small black hydration backpack that we received upon check-in. We had to carry this with us everywhere we went. The only thing to distinguish one pack from another was a cloth camouflage name tape with our last names embroidered on the strip.
Arriving before sunrise, I once again parked at my wife’s school across the street from the Texas A&M golf course. I left the cool air conditioning of my vehicle and got out into the early morning air that was already hot. I walked down George Bush Drive, and then crossed over the street. I continued through Lot 40, crossed over Lewis Street, passed Duncan Dining Center, and came to White Hall, Dorm 10. I made my way up the stairs to the fourth floor where our “fish hole” was located. It was designated as the “fish hole” because as a fish, I was not allowed to use the word “room.” It was not my privilege. Therefore, the room where we met, got dressed, and kept our clothing and gear as freshmen was known as the “fish hole.” Compared to us, students living on campus had a different experience because they lived right there in their own rooms or holes. There were two fish for every hole, much like a small dorm room. As for us, we basically had a locker room. It was the same room where I had met Miss. Tiedemman and the other officers. It had previously been set up for the initial meet and greet, but now it had only a simple uniform rack and a few chairs. I stood there for a few minutes by myself waiting for the activities of the day to begin.
For a long moment, it seemed like the entire rest of the Quad was still asleep. Dorm 10 where several other outfits were housed certainly didn’t seem to have anyone awake quite yet. But then again, I always arrived super early everywhere I went. As my band director in high school, Mister Scott Mason, taught me, “To be early is to be on time. To be on time is to be late.” That was one directive that I never failed. I may have slacked on various other guidelines over the course of my 41 years, but by God, I was absolutely never late. Consequently, it was not uncommon for me to be super early.
In Dorm 10 and in all the other dorms on the Quad, each floor mostly held one outfit. The floors commonly consisted of one long hallway with dorm rooms on both sides of the hall all the way down the length of the building. At either end, there were usually a couple of rooms that could be used as meeting rooms or storage space. During my freshman year, most of the 4th floor of Dorm 10 was housed by Squadron 21, a male and female outfit within the Air Force wings. They occupied the holes (dorm rooms) and my outfit, V-1, had the larger rooms that were located at either end of the hallway. We used those rooms as locker rooms and meeting spaces. That morning, I found myself alone in the fish hole, preparing for my very first day as an official cadet.
A moment later a younger guy entered the room. Like me, he was wearing jeans and a white t-shirt with his name painted on the front that said “Hernandez.”
“Hey!” I said with a positive intonation to designate a simple greeting of hello as I nodded my head up in the typical male gesture.
“Hey,” Hernandez said back with a reciprocal uplifting welcome tone.
“I’m Andrew Patterson,” I said confidently as I extended my hand and moved a bit closer toward him. He reached out and shook my hand but had a slightly confused look on his face.
“They told us you were dropping out,” Hernandez questioned.
“Well, I’m here now,” I stated matter of factly. I was embarrassed by my previous wavering status but now I was ready to just move forward. The answer seemed to satisfy Hernandez. Just then another guy entered with the name “Simonds” on his shirt.
“What’s up I’m John,” said the young man with another handshake and a smile. I returned the smile and handshake. “I’m Andrew.”
Both guys seemed super nice and just a bit older than the average cadet. Apparently, both had served a few years in the National Guard and were here now at A&M to finish their degrees. Hernandez and Simonds began to catch me up on a few details that I had missed during the day I was busy almost punching. Specifically, they made sure I had the little maroon folded pamphlet called The Cadence and said we had to start memorizing these things called “campusologies.”
I put the small booklet in a pocket of the black hydration backpack with my last name PATTERSON embroidered in black all caps on a camouflage name tape strip and velcroed on it as instructed. We filled our water pouches to be ready for the day and made sure to tuck in the laces of our shoes. Apparently, as fish, it was not our privilege to show any laces.
During the process of picking up a few of these basic pointers, the other male and female members of our fish class began to arrive. Overall it seemed there would be twelve of us, each with various levels of life and/or military experience but all wearing jeans and a white t-shirt with our names written on the front. Each of the cadets in my fish class seemed like nice people. As far as I could understand in just a few brief minutes, everyone was kind and approachable.
The ten guys all had a super short military haircut and the two girls had their hair done up and pulled back tight in military-style buns. We were all now gathered in the small room. It was a sea of blue jeans and white t-shirts when the door opened again. This time it was Mister Holloway, once again in his pristine khaki uniform. Those few of my fellow fish who were seated stood up and the room fell quiet.
“Morning,” Holloway said with a grin.
“Morning Mister Holloway sir!” the group replied in unison. Since I had missed the instructions regarding that protocol, I had failed to say it with the group but from that point forward I never did again. Even though I had just met these people and they had only been together one more day than me, it was surprising and motivating how quickly we spoke as one. Holloway finished completely opening the door and stepped inside the room.
“Check yourselves and a buddy to make sure that you have everything you will need for our morning training,” stated Holloway with a kind yet firm direction before continuing. “You’ll need your full fish uniform complete with belts, hydration, campos, and your covers. Buddy up and check to make sure.”
The closest person was Simonds and he turned directly toward me. That made it convenient to figure out who I was going to work with. I could tell right away without even really knowing him that I was going to him. He had that likable look. He was clean-cut, in shape, and seemed like a positive good person just from his smile.
“You put your Cadence in there?” Simonds asked me, referring to the small booklet that included the campusologies. I understood intuitively that he was asking if I put it in my hydration backpack.
“Yes,” I replied enthusiastically. “I should be ready to go.”
“Cover?” Simonds inquired again as he held up his khaki A&M fish baseball cap to make sure I knew what he was talking about.
“Got it!” I confirmed with great pleasure as I held up the cap in my hand. It was a simple task to check for items but there was something elementary that I enjoyed about doing it. Sure, it seemed like it was kind of rudimentary for a twenty-something and a forty-something-year-old guy to check each other like two little school kids going on a field trip but at the same time, it was also fun. Looking around the room, it seemed like everyone else had their items ready to go as well. Apparently, Mister Holloway could sense it too because he directed us out of the room. We headed down the four flights of stairs, pushed through the double glass doors on the ground level, and walked out into the heat of dawn as the sun began to crest just behind the buildings of the Quad.
Outside there were hundreds of cadets all over wearing either khaki uniforms or blue jeans and white t-shirts. Everywhere you looked there were cadets and the noise was all-encompassing. It’s not that it was loud. It wasn’t overbearing but it was consistent and absolutely inspiring. The Quad was alive with a varying hive of activity including yelling, group chanting, and instructions being barked out from every direction. It was completely motivating.
We lined up just outside the doors and then, led by Mister Holloway, we made our way down the Quad. As we walked, I marveled to myself, Oh my God, I can’t believe I’m here! This is awesome! I was incredibly excited. I had waited my entire life to get to Texas A&M and here I was, a cadet walking down the Quad surrounded by hundreds of other cadets. There was no other place I would have rather been in the entire world.
We passed several different outfits and came to a stop in a big open area in the middle of the Quad near a big flag pole. There in the very center of everything, Miss Tiedeman, Miss Scott, and Mister Magby were already waiting, dressed up in their khaki uniforms. Mister Magby and Mister Holloway directed us to get into a block formation and we did so with more instructions on exactly how to form up in rows. I stood on the back row of our group of fish while the upperclassmen stood in front of us. Mister Magby took a position in front holding a flag on a long wooden pole.
The flag was red with golden tassels hanging from every side. In the middle of the flag written in blue were letters that spelled out “NROTC” in all caps with a golden military emblem right below it that I was not familiar with. Below that was a blue navy anchor. To the left of the navy emblem and anchor was a big “V” and on the other side of the flag was a “1.” At the very top of the flag on the pole was a shiny, silver, glimmering snake head, signifying our mascot, a viper. We were the V-1 Vipers. Viper Company. That sounded pretty cool to me. Later I would come to understand that the item Mister Magby was carrying was not called a “flag.’ It was our “guidon.” We were told we had to guard that guidon with our lives, never letting it out of our sight. Everywhere we went, that guidon was with us.
Apparently, the V-1 Vipers were designated as a Navy outfit. That was why the guidon had an anchor embroidered on it. If given the opportunity, I wasn’t quite sure which military branch I would join but just thinking about that possibility and standing there on the Quad as a cadet was exciting. Looking at our guidon with the Navy symbolism, it seemed that perhaps I was being led to join the Navy. I was 41 years old and didn’t think there would be a possibility because of my age. But even if it was just symbolic, the sight of our guidon was motivating.
Mister Magby stood up front holding our guidon and Miss Tiedemann was just in front of him. She was wearing a wide brown leather belt around her waist with a strap that went over one shoulder and across her chest. Strapped to her hip was a big silver sword. The sword and belt straps looked awesome and the way Miss Tiedemann was standing, it was clear she felt pretty good herself to be wearing it. I would later come to know the name of the leather belt and strap. It was called a Sam Browne, invented by a British Indian officer and named for him. The design was created to help support the weight of a sword. But it actually wasn’t called a sword. It was a saber. Knowing that distinction made the entire thing even cooler.
We were kind of just standing in a comfortable position when Miss Tiedemann called out with a firm voice,
“Vipers… atten… shun!” As a group, we snapped to attention. We stood there for a moment and then she called out again, “Parade… rest!”
While I had missed the first day of instruction, it was clear what I needed to do so I simply followed along. Yes, I was not present for the instructions regarding the basic positions of attention but I had also been in the marching band back in high school and I was certain the moves were quite similar. Plus, I had seen a lot of military movies and had been waiting for this moment my entire life. I may not have been in perfect form but I went through the motions with the rest of our outfit.
At “parade rest” we stood with our feet slightly spread and our hands behind our backs. Then without anyone really saying anything that I could notice, the entire Quad began to fall silent. It was an awesome experience as the rest of the outfits also came to parade rest and quietly stood their ground. Moments before, the entire Quad had been filled with activity and commotion but after only maybe thirty seconds and without any fanfare, everyone across the entire Quad was now completely silent. We stood there quietly without moving. The sun was just coming up. There was the slightest warm breeze that flittered against my exposed skin on my face and arms. No one made a sound. We seemed to stand there for a good amount of time. It was definitely for a few minutes, but I didn’t mind one single bit. I loved it. I was having the time of my life.
Then, from somewhere I couldn’t see because I was looking straight ahead, I heard a strong male voice call out, “Sound the assembly!” The directive stated confidently by one single cadet echoed out over the buildings and off into the distance. For another moment there was silence. Then from somewhere else I could not see, a bugler began to blast a trumpet tune that I didn’t recognize and the entire Corps quickly snapped to attention. Thankfully in the back of my group, I snapped to attention slightly after everyone else but I did it so fast that no one really noticed. At least I don’t think so. Again, since I had missed the first day, I had not been trained but I would never miss that mark again. The bugler’s tune didn’t last long. It was a peppy song as if it brought everyone together with the sound of the music. After only a moment, the bugler stopped and the Quad once again fell completely silent.
After another moment, I heard the same loud male voice bellow out, “Officers… Report!” Then from around the Quad, we began to hear different officers calling out their status. I heard things like, “1st Brigade… all present” and “2nd Wing… 2 UA.” The voices of various female and male officers sounded one at a time and echoed off the buildings surrounding the formation of cadets in the open middle of the Quad. After hearing many officers sound off, I heard Miss Tiedemann call out for our outfit, “V-1… all present.” After her, I heard another officer beside us call out, “Delta Company… all present.” The Quad once again fell silent. I could see the sun coming over the top of the building out of the corner of my eye but I kept completely still at attention and certainly did not move my head to look around. Another silent moment lingered until it was interrupted once again by another loud male voice.
“Bring your units to present arms!” the voice yelled from somewhere in the center of the Quad but I couldn’t see who it was. After a pause, the officers of each group began to direct their outfits and regiments, wings, or brigades to come to present their arms, to salute. This happened not all at the same time but kind of in a random fashion as each officer called for the salute in different ways. It was a chorus of male and female voices calling out and the sound of it echoed off the surrounding buildings. Among the commotion, from right in front of me, I heard the firm voice of Miss Tiedemann calling to us.
“Vipers… present… arms,” Miss Teidemann barked. Our unit moved as one as each of us snapped our arms up and positioned our hands directly above our eyes to salute. Once again, I had not been directly shown how to salute by any member of the Corps. But I had spent time in the honor guard with the fire department back in the day so I was pretty sure that I was on point. While the fire department tradition was not the same as the military, I was certain I understood the basic movements and had no trouble considering that I would most likely be corrected later.
After the entire Corps was in the saluting position, the Quad once again fell silent and we waited a long moment for what was coming next. The bugler sounded out another tune but this time I recognized it. It was that old familiar wake-up song that everyone has heard – Reveille. The bugle sounded out the notes crisply.
Dah da da da dah da
Dah da da dah da
Dah da da dah da dah da
Dah da da da dah da
Dah da da dah da
Dah da da da da dah
As the morning call was belted out of the horn, I heard the distinct squeak of a flagpole pulley system being manipulated and the clanking of the anchors against the pole. I figured the U.S. flag was being raised but I was not in a position to see it. And, once again, I certainly wasn’t going to look around. I was having too much fun in the discipline of the moment. I was a cadet surrounded by hundreds of other cadets at an elite university military program while Reveille was being played on the bugle with the flag of my country being raised above me with the sun coming up. I was in heaven. The song continued.
Dah da da da da dah da
Dah da da da da dah da
Dah da da da da dah da
Dah da da da da da dah
After Reveille concluded there was a moment of silence and a voice called out again. Miss Tiedemann ordered us to drop our salutes along with every other outfit commander. The main voice from the center called out once again and we were released to the directives of our own outfits. From there, we marched back over to an area near our dorm to work on the positions of attention and marching. I loved it. It reminded me of being back in high school marching band, which was one of my favorite organizations of all time. I had really enjoyed it because of the combination of music and discipline. This felt a lot like band but with the added purpose of military drilling. The best part about the experience to me was the times we just had to stand there at attention doing nothing as the sun continued to rise higher and began to bake us.
During those long boring moments of just standing at attention, I thought of the movie The Bridge on the River Kwai when the British officers were forced to stand in the scorching sun all day long at a remote Japanese prisoner of war camp as one of their punishments for disobeying orders. What I loved about that moment in the film was that the British officers dutifully stood there getting burned and dehydrated by the sun and didn’t move. They took it all day long. I had always wanted a similar experience in order to test my own discipline and resolve. Now, here I was, certainly not in a prisoner of war (POW) camp but living out one of my dreams. And that dream was simply… standing at attention with discipline. I couldn’t help it. I loved it. There was something so simple yet motivating about it. We stood at attention a lot that day, doing nothing while the officers from Viper Company critiqued us, and even yelled at us when we did something wrong. But even that I completely enjoyed. I had never been to basic training but from what I had seen in the movies, this kinda felt like that to me. The officers in our outfit were certainly nice. But they also didn’t put up with any slack.
Some of the members of our fish group were just out of high school and had never had any association with band or the military and were basically starting from scratch, knowing nothing about how to even stand at attention. Others in my fish group had a couple of years or more of military drilling and weren’t as excited about going back to the basics. I could sense them hesitating to give their marching and positions of attention their best effort. We got yelled at even more for that. But I didn’t mind at all. I enjoyed every minute of it. In fact, I even enjoyed getting yelled at. There was something refreshing about being held to the standard for things so small like keeping my closed hands on the seams of my jeans or snapping our salute up and down at exactly the same speed. It was as if it had been so long since anyone had cared about the little things in my life that I was overjoyed to get immediate and consistent feedback in order to make sure everything I was doing was perfect. I really appreciated it. I was exhausted from people making excuses for me over the course of my life and it was so inspiring to be there with young adults half my age getting in my face to make sure that me and my fish buddies were completely on track.
“Patterson!” came the call from the XO Miss Scott (XO or Executive Officer). “Quit smiling and get your hands aligned exactly with the seam of your pants!”
Dang it! I immediately thought to myself. I was having so much fun that I wasn’t thinking about where my hands were. I had just kind of left them dangling at my side. It was embarrassing for me as a 41-year-old man who had entered burning buildings and pulled survivors out of wrecked vehicles but at the same time, I wanted to be the best and get the details right. I didn’t say anything to respond but made sure to correct my mistake. I was also extremely happy that apparently none of these younger adults had any problem calling out a man mostly twice their age. Apparently, I wasn’t just some old random weird guy. I was one of the group. I appreciated being held to the same exact standard.
After our outside instruction, we were led back into Dorm 10 and took the stairs to the fourth floor where we directed to remain in our fish hole. Since none of us lived on campus and were all coming in from various locations off campus, this would be our place to gather. We were instructed to meet here each morning and be ready for all the activities of the day. But this day was nowhere near over yet. We all filed in and Mister Holloway entered to provide us with our next directives.
We were ordered to polish our shoes. Mister Holloway was extremely nice about it and sat down to show us exactly how to do it. I liked him a lot. He seemed to be a laid-back guy but you could tell he was extremely intelligent. It was obvious he didn’t need to prove anything as he spoke to us with kindness and humility. You could tell he was clearly a leader as he spoke with poise and strength before our group of twelve fish cadets. I respected Mister Holloway because he had military experience yet he treated all of us with kindness. Without question, he was direct and spoke with authority. But he was also humble. I think that approach was exactly what was needed for our group of fish cadets as some of us had life or military experience and others were just kids fresh out of high school. So we all sat down and began to go over the finer points of polishing our low quarter dress shoes.
We had already been wearing them as part of our FOW fish uniform but none of us had any polish on our low quarters. We took them off, grabbed some rags, and began to apply polish from a few cans that were sitting around the room. Some of us sat in chairs while the rest sat directly on the floor. No one seemed to care either way. I think we were all just glad to be inside with the air conditioning instead of out in the direct sun and heat.
While I had not been in the military, I had polished my fire department uniform boots consistently, but this was not the same. These shoes had more of a gloss and we were instructed to polish them until they had a “two-bar shine.” In other words, the tops of the shoes needed to be polished so expertly that they shined like two bars. One bar was up closer to the laces and the other bar was down near the toes. The only thing allowed to separate those bars was the natural crease that developed from breaking in the shoes while walking. When the officers looked down at the tops of our shoes, they needed to be able to see themselves in the reflection of the polish on those two bars like they were mirrors. With how dull my brand-new shoes were looking, it seemed it might take me quite a while. But, I got to work just like everybody else. I was never really excited about polishing shoes and I wasn’t really enthusiastic about it now but I was grateful to be sitting in a room full of cadets who were all trying to get the job done right.
After a while, Mister Holloway got up to leave us to our own initiative. The door closed behind him and we were left to ourselves to chat as we worked on our low quarters trying to achieve the two-bar shine. This was really the first time that I had a moment to really get to know my group, my class of fish “buddies.” Around the room there were Simonds and Hernandez who I had already met. They were hard at work on their shoes. There was a young girl fresh out of high school whose name was Mabel Eggebrecht. Like Miss Scott, Eggebrecht also had long blonde hair and glasses but apparently was a legacy not only at A&M but specifically in the Corps. Her older sister had been the CO of V-1 a few years back and she was hoping to do the same.
There was a big, white guy named Joe Mawad from New York City who looked like he was in his 30s because his hair was thinning and receding. But apparently he was only 20 and in the Marines. He looked handsome and strong but he was also funny and completely respectful. It was kind of shocking to me that all around the room there were military-trained guys who could have been pompous jerks with all of their experience but everyone seemed to be nice. There was a super nice African-American guy in the Air Force by the name of Michael Blackmon who was working on his master's degree at the Bush School and an Army Reserves white guy named Garrett Thompson who was super funny and seemed to have a knack for making everyone laugh. Alyssa Doggett was another young, white girl with long dark hair who just graduated from high school and another really funny guy in the Army named Spencer Qiu who happened to be Asian. Jonathan Gillespie was a white Army Reserves guy who seemed to know a lot about everything in a good way and another white Reserves guy named August Bell who was a trophy winning Jiu Jitsu fighter. And there was another Air Force white guy whose name just happened to be Keefer Patterson. We weren’t related at all but the group began to suggest that I was his father. With our age difference, I could have been. But between ourselves we simply said that we were brothers. So that was my fish class of buddies. It was Simonds, Hernandez, Eggebrecht, Mawad, Blackmon, Garrett, Doggett, Qiu, Gillespie, Bell, Patterson … and me. 12 fish buddies. From the very beginning, it was an amazing group of people that I loved to be around.
I had worried about being rejected because of my older age but right from the start, everyone in the group just got along. Whether they were right out of high school or experienced in the military, nobody seemed to complain or say that I was stupid and didn’t belong. For some reason it continued like that all year long. After a while, Mister Holloway came back and we were off to our first official meeting of FOW. We got outside, formed two lines, and were escorted down the row of dorms and exited through the “arches” located at the north end of the Quad. We were led over to Rudder Tower in the middle of campus where we filed into the building along with the entire freshman class of cadets and found ourselves in a sea of white t-shirts sitting in a giant auditorium with two levels.
I didn’t know it yet but this would be the first of multiple “discipline briefs.” If you aren’t familiar with what happens at a discipline brief, the term brief is absolutely not what should be used to describe the situation. The meetings last forever. Over the course of the ten days of FOW, we would be indoctrinated by several of these “briefs.” Yet even that was somewhat fun as I sat with my new buddies, making sure to pay attention for fear of getting yelled at by one of the officers in our outfit or worse yet, the mean looking older adult military men and women who stood along the rows making sure that no one fell asleep or was playing on their phones. Let me tell you right now. No one did. While the meetings were incredibly boring lectures, I have to say, I still enjoyed being right where I was. I just couldn’t believe that I was a real cadet sitting in a huge room full of other cadets. It was just like what I had seen in the movies. Or at least what I had imagined.
While we commonly sat in silence attempting to pay attention at such meetings, there were also events where we could be loud. One of my favorites during FOW was learning how to greet our upperclassmen through an official procedure that is more affectionately called “whipping out.” The procedure was designed to teach confidence to freshmen so they gain the experience of introducing themselves to older cadets as a showcase of respect to the upperclassmen. It also fosters skills for approaching people as a confident business or military applicant. The greeting begins with a fish approaching an older cadet. The fish “whips out” her or his hand with a crisp gesture and holds it out in hope and anticipation of the older cadet returning the gesture with a firm handshake that is sustained throughout the greeting. The verbal greeting goes as followed:
Fish: Howdy, fish Patterson is my name sir!
Upperclassman: It’s Jones.
Fish: Howdy Mister Jones sir! Where are you from Mister Jones sir?
Upperclassman: I’m from Galveston, Texas. What about you fish?
Fish: I’m from Coppell, Texas Mister Jones Sir. What courses are you taking Mister Jones sir?
Upperclassman: I’m taking Psychology. What about you fish?
Fish: I’m taking geography Mister Jones sir. It’s very nice to have met you Mister Jones sir!
Upperclassman: Good to meet you fish.
And that’s basically how it goes. There are multiple variations to the greeting depending on what different outfits allow and there are certainly a variety of ways the procedure goes down. The ritual is a right of passage for freshmen but sometimes the upperclassmen do things to make it as difficult as possible. One such case occurred to me.
We were out on the Quad on a bright, sunny afternoon one day during FOW and were instructed to approach the upperclassmen in our outfit to whip out to them. This was my first experience in a “whip-out line.” Over the previous few days, we had been taught how to whip out and had been practicing on each other in our fish group but this would be the first time it was really drilled into us. Essentially, we each had to go down the line of upperclassmen and greet them at the same time our peers were doing the same thing. It made for a fun and boisterous way to ensure everyone knew each other. We each stepped up to the line and began our greetings.
My first few encounters were straightforward enough. I whipped out to Miss Tiedemann, Mister Jun, and Miss Scott without much issue. They were kind but insistent on being firm and on point. But then I got to Mister Magby. I hadn’t had many dealings with him yet but he seemed like a nice enough guy. I knew he was in the National Guard and it had been clear he took his position in the Corps seriously. He was shorter than me but he was built. I stepped up to him and prepared to whip out.
“Howdy fish Patterson is my name sir!” I proclaimed as I confidently offered my hand. From relaxed at his side, Mister Magby extended his arm and grasped mine firmly. I knew instantly that I was outmatched because his hand seemed to envelop mine with a strength you only find when you shake the hand of someone who has been working with tools their entire life. I was clearly in a different league here. I was no longer shaking the hand of one of the female officers or one of the smaller guys. This was a man’s hand and it was obvious he was strong.
While he didn’t crush my hand by any means, he relentlessly clasped it as if he knew he could dominate the exchange. He took a moment and I swear I saw a glint of pure joy in his eye as he returned the verbal greeting.
“It’s Magby,” he said with a sly smirk on his stoic face. While I considered myself a big strong guy who had been a firefighter, I have to say that Mister Magby clearly had me beat and he knew it. I felt a bead of sweat begin to roll down the side of my face from my temple to my neck and it seemed the moment was lasting a lot longer than it should. I attempted to find my focus and continue the official greeting.
“Where are you from, Mister Magby sir?” I managed to get the words out as he clenched a little harder on my hand.
“I’m from Bryan, Texas,” Mister Magby responded. “What about you fish?” My response was almost automatic as I could recall very easily where I grew up.
“I’m from Coppell, Texas” I stated confidently. That was the easy part. Now I just had to remember the next question in the official greeting. Mind you, it might seem easy to read this out on nice plain text from the comfort and peace of wherever you happen to be reading this without anyone in your face staring directly into your eyes. The pressure to do it in front of everyone while looking directly into the eyes of an intimidating upperclassman, even though I was far older with more life experience, made it a challenging task.
My mind began to search for the next question I was supposed to ask but it wasn’t registering. And I felt myself being pushed backward. Wait a minute! Is he moving me back with just the power of his forearm? While trying to remember the next question I was becoming overwhelmed by the sheer magnitude of this guy’s strength. It reminded me of being in the fire department trying to arm wrestle the older guys who had been working with their hands their entire lives. They had forearms like the old cartoon character Popeye. It felt like this guy did too. I wasn’t able to look down because my directives restricted me to looking directly into Mister Magby’s eyes but I was pretty sure he had the same type of sailor's forearms. But what was overwhelming was that he was not moving at all and I felt myself shifting my feet backward so I wouldn’t fall over. I couldn’t believe it. At one point in my life, I knew I had at least some kind of strength but this guy was stout. I gotta seriously get back in the gym!
The moment was dragging on and I struggled to focus to finish the greeting. I reset my feet and shifted my body forward to slightly lean into him in an attempt to counterbalance his forward progress. Around me, my peers were finishing up their whip outs and began to examine what was happening to me. My mind finally located the next question.
“What courses are you taking, Mister Magby, sir?” I struggled to find my footing as he pushed against me and my arm began to shake against the pressure of his.
“I’m taking University Studies Business with minors in Leadership and Military Studies,” Mister Magby stated without missing a beat. “What about you fish?” Not wanting to delay the procedure any further, I quickly replied.
“I’m taking Geography sir,” I got the words out and found the ability to move to the final phrase as my arm began to burn and my feet shifted back again, sliding along the concrete like I was attempting to stand on ice. “I’m glad to have met you Mister Magby, sir.”
“Good to meet you fish,” said Mister Magby. He dropped his death grip on me and I felt my entire body relax and balance back out. The encounter was over. The upperclassmen were smiling while watching the episode and it seemed like everyone else had successfully negotiated the trial. As for me, I loved the entire experience. This was exactly what I came to Texas A&M for. I wanted people to push me to grow. The officers and especially Mister Magby had done just that. And although my first real encounter with Mister Magby had been a challenge, I found myself liking him immediately. I could tell he didn’t give me a hard time to be mean. He did it to inspire me to grow, to show his incredible strength, and to have a little fun. I appreciated and enjoyed every second of it.
In meetings with the adult administrators in my later years in the Corps, I would find that they sometimes shunned such activities. Many of them felt that military seriousness and procedure should be maintained at all times and I completely understood why they felt that was important. Their point was that going down a line of officers to whip out in a loud manner defeated the purpose of why the greetings were initiated in the first place. The greetings were supposed to teach cadets to be cordial and professional and provide them the confidence to go up to superiors who were above them in the military or in their civilian careers. The adult administrators of the Corps certainly didn’t find any purpose in upperclassmen who hazed the fish by pushing them or giving them a hard time, as Mister Magby did to me. And I can certainly understand that. I get why the administrators felt it was silly, immature, and taking away from the core value of the drill. But at the same time, I felt I benefited greatly from the entire experience.
In my adult life before the Corps, I had no problem walking up to anyone I didn’t know to say hello, shake their hand, and greet them. What I did have a problem with, was overcoming obstacles when they came my way. And when a guy like Mister Magby who flies Apache helicopters in the Army National Guard grabs your arm with force and pushes you to stand your ground as you attempt to remember how to properly greet him, it makes you physically, mentally, and emotionally examine yourself. If I had not had that intense whip out experience that day, I would not have started my journey to bolster myself mentally and get myself back in shape physically.
As a result of Mister Magby’s greeting, I quit making excuses and recognized that he was able to push me around because I was fat and out of shape. I wasn’t “kind of” strong anymore. I was soft and weak with a “Dunlap” around my midsection. Yes, my belly had dun lapped over my belt. Mister Magby made me see it for what it was instead of looking the other way and making excuses.
It was also a challenge to think and speak with that amount of physical pressure. I had handled those types of situations when I was a firefighter but I had allowed myself to get soft. It was time to toughen back up. Some might think that Mister Magby disrespected me that day but I felt like he gave me back my respect. In fact, I would say he honored me. He honored me because he didn’t cut me any slack. In doing so, he pushed me to raise my standards to meet his.
Honor is another Aggie value. One way we carry out the value of honor is by continuing our traditions. Whipping out with intensity was one such tradition. Remembering the eight Texas Aggies who received the Medal of Honor was another. It was one of the campusologies we had to memorize as fish. In World War II, Lieutenant Thomas W. Fowler directed two disorganized infantry platoons to form up and clear a minefield by hand to prevent any Allied troops from losing men if they came across it. After that intense and dangerous activity, the platoons were involved in a tank battle with the enemy forces. Lt. Fowler tended to his wounded crew while taking heavy fire. For this, he received the Medal of Honor. His was a name we were instructed to memorize as Aggie fish in the Corps of Cadets. For us to even know his name, Lt. Flower had to show up to do his job.
One way we honor those who came before us is by simply showing up. When we are present, we take our place as a physical component that furthers the ideals and principles of an organization. Our physical body materializes the values and contributions of those who came before us. By putting on the cadet uniform and standing tall as a representative of discipline and tradition that has been carried across so many generations, we pay tribute to all the blood, sweat, and tears that have been sacrificed by making that contribution our own. But none of that magical transfer can take place if we fail to show up. Showing up is an enormous component of resilience. If you don’t show up, you cannot be resilient. In the Corps at Texas A&M, the first contribution that my fish buddies and I dedicated our time to was showing up. The V-1 cadre of leaders showed up to train us. In this way they honored us. In return, I gave everything I had every single day to honor them. Put together, those actions honored those who came before us and who would come after us. But it also set the stage for an epic showcase of resilience. It happened because we showed up.
Whipping out, polishing my shoes, and standing at attention correctly were just a few of the things I learned my first few days in the Corps during those ten days of FOW. The next phase of cadet life was about to begin. The academic semester was officially starting.
But perhaps as an ominous sign of things to come during my time in the Corps, right before the first day of class, Hurricane Harvey, one of the largest hurricanes ever to hit the nation, slammed the coastline of Southeast Texas. A lot of my fish buddies in the military were called up to go down and serve while I remained safely at A&M. The rain was so bad even up where I lived north of campus that I had to bust out the sidewalk right at my front door so water could flow freely and not enter into my house. It was as much rain as I had ever seen. Because of all that rain, the first big event of our time in the Corps of Cadets was canceled. For the entire class of 2021, Fish Review never took place. We were supposed to march onto Simpson Drill Field in front of all our families and friends. But what we got was silence as the rain poured down. Little did we know that the rain pouring down as the result of a massive storm would mark the beginning of our very unique four years of the Corps experience. It was like the opening bookend of a story that was just beginning to be written.
Resilience Lesson #5: To be resilient, you have to show up.
Question: Where do you need to show up in your life right now but are falling short?
-- This blog post is one chapter in a book titled I Bleed Maroon by Andrew Christjoy that is being finalized and seeks publication.
Comments