Re: A Scout is Trustworthy
Settummanque, ("MAJ)
Mon, 30 Sep 1996 06:24:08 -0500
Dan Jett asked:
>> I would be curious to hear any other stories about the honesty/scouting
>> connection made by the non-scouting public.
I have a LOT of those situations, Dan...many of them are in either "Patches
and Pins" or the new book. However, my favorite time is the following.
(I started to post here "Please keep in mind three elements...", but as you'll
read, you really won't need to).
"Blinding Faith"
When I was fresh out of high school, like every teenager with a car, I decided
that I wanted to go "cruising". Cruising, at least where I grew up in,
consisted
of turning your radio up as loud as you could stand it, drive down to a
major shopping center after it has closed, and drive around yelling at the
top of your
lungs to "attractive young ladies" (partly because of the radio and partly
because you were usually under the influnce of some substance: in my case,
it was Pepsi in a tall McDonald's cup that made it somehow look like I was
drinking something else inside it. I didn't start to drink beer until well
after my first year of college later that
summer).
So, I drove down to Elizabethtown with two of the guys from my high
school class. They "got lucky" and ended up with a carload of girls while
I had to drive my car back home. It was close to 2am, the time in which
I told my parents I would return home by.
My car, an old green VW "bug", decided that it needed a rest somewhere between
E-town and the highway leading to Radcliff. I was stranded, and at that time of
night (Sunday morning), there was little traffic headed in the direction of
my home.
So, I locked everything up and started walking. I didn't get very far. A
police
car came up behind me not even 200 feet from where I parked. I turned and
started
to walk toward the policeman. I froze when he pulled out his weapon and told me
to stop.
"What did I do?" was the first thing that came from my mind and later my lips.
I felt my stomach turn as he came toward me. He flashed a light in my face,
then
to my hands and down to my tennis shoes as he talked with me. Instantly, my
mind raced to images that my mother told me about, how young men get killed
on the side of the road by "someone", and how I should NEVER be out by
myself after midnight ANYWHERE.
While I may listen to my mother, I don't always "perform" according to her
wishes. This was one of those times I'd wished I had. I was scared.
"Where are you coming from?", he asked. I explained that I had broken down and
he took the license plate number from the "bug" and then told me to come back
to the car, and sit in the backseat. I did as he told me. He then placed
his weapon
back into his holster, then got into his car from the passenger side and
called in on
the radio. I overheard the conversation.
"I've got a male black, about 17, walking down here. He says his car's
broken down.
Can you run a license check?" The radio crackled and someone on the other end
finally granted his request and started spouting out some numbers,
ten-sixty-one,
followed by "Walton, Robert L.".
I had failed to do what my father told me a month ago....to get the plate
changed
to MY name, not his. That listening thing again. In and out that same ear.
"You got some ID on you? Drivers' license?" I fumbled around for a wallet. No
wallet. Now what? Where's my wallet?? I also forgot, in the "interest of
attracting
females", that I chose to place my wallet in my glove compartment and never took
it out. I relayed the information to the officer, adding, "I know it's in
there".
The officer took my keys and went searching for the wallet in the glove
compartment. There was no wallet to be found, just registration paperwork in my
father's name and an old Leave and Earnings' Statement from the Army, also in my
dad's name.
"No ID, nothing to tell me who you are. Can we call your....", the officer
started
in, using his roughest possible voice.
"NO!" I screamed. "Don't call them please. I'm well past the time I was
supposed to be back, and I'll surely "get it"!", I pleaded.
"So who do we call to verify that you are you?" It only took me three
seconds to
answer. "Call Robert Pilette", I replied, giving my Scoutmaster's home
phone number. "Or you can call Scott Claybaugh", I stated, giving him the
phone number
of the District Executive I've been working with during the spring.
The policeman turned, called in the information to the dispatcher, and
started writing down information on a piece of paper. After a few beeps and
squawks,
the dispatcher reported that there was no answer at the Pilette household.
"That's right", I thought..."they are on vacation this week". I sunk even lower
in the vinyl seat. After ten more minutes, there was a new message for the
officer.
Something about a ten-one saying that if this person matches the description
follows, to give him whatever help he needs to get home. Then it was followed
by ten-nine, ten-twenty this location and finally, ten-one-hundred. He
looked at
me as the desciption was read. I matched.
It was like someone just electrified this gentleman. He got out of the
seat, hit the
bluelight bar with his hat in the process, and then opened the door and
motioned me
out.
"Is your father a MP?", he asked. Stunned, I replied "No, he's a drill
sergeant. What's going on??"
"The Chief of Police is sending my supervisor out here to pick you up and to see
if he can get your car running. Who is "Scott Claybaugh"?" We walked back to
my car, and the officer handed my keys over to me.
"He's the guy I've been working with...he's the manager of the Boy Scouts."
It was like a light was turned on above this guy's head. The supervisor, a
Sergeant,
came by in his car, pulled over on the other side of the road and took out a
toolkit
and proceeded across the street to where we were standing. The two officers
exchanged greetings and then the supervisor looked at me and told me what was
going on. "The Chief got a call from the Boy Scouts. It seems that you are one
of their senior boys, like the Eagle Scout or something. As soon as he
heard your
father's name, they knew who you were. He wanted to make sure that you're
alright and to get you home. I understand that you have some rather uptight
parents," and then he smiled, "that trust you as far as they can throw you".
That was true. It was also true that I would definately "get it", since the
time
on the supervisor's watch was now 3:22am.
The car wasn't able to be jumped, so the supervisor placed a "no-tow" tag
on the car and he drove me the 20 or so miles back to my parent's home. Once
there, he explained that it was a delay in getting their son back home
before 2am
because of a "very busy police force", and asked that they would "go easy on
me" because I was unable to get to a phone. My mother understood and thanked
the officer for bringing me back home. I did too.
I didn't "get it" for that episode, but it did make me feel that there were
other people
-- other than my parents -- whom had faith in me and blindly helped me when it
would have been much easier to just call my parents and had them to pick me up.
That trust --between Scouter and Scout -- is part too of what being a
Scouter is all about.
I called Scott the following Monday and thanked him for "going out on a
limb" for
me. His words still follow me: "Isn't that what Scouters are *supposed* to do?"
Hope this helps, Dan. I'm glad to be back and I'll have more to say about
that later on this day or perhaps tomorrow....as well as a new assignment
coming
for me!!
Settummanque!
-----
(MAJ) Mike L. Walton (Settummanque, the blackeagle)
http://www.vhm.com/~uscardnl/
Deputy Public Affairs Officer, 21st Theater Army Area Command
Kaiserslautern, Federal Republic of Germany
"everything I say is "on the record"; speaking ONLY for myself unless indicated"
personal inquiries via blkeagle@midwest.net or kyblkeagle@aol.com
professional inquiries via waltonm%po2.hq@taacom.kaiserslautern.army.mil
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