Back then a was only about 5' tall and weight maybe 120 lbs but I was pretty strong for my size. I had a backpack, sleeping bag, knife, canteen, and mess kit. I also had an oak walking stick about 4' long with a wonderful knob on the end. I shaved that thing down to where there was no bark and no knots. I also worked it smooth with hands full of sand and applied friction (no snickering you sick bastards). I was a scout, able to hang with my buddies and "surviving" in the "wild."

After a long day of dragging our too heavy sleigh through the not quite completely snow covered ground, what would you think a bunch of young teenage boys do? Yup, flashlight wars in the woods. For those of you that don't know, there aren't any rules to flashlight wars. You basically run around in teams pointing your lights into the other guys eyes as they try to sneak up on you. We were running around for a while having a good time and, at some point, I lost my walking stick. I don't know WHY I brought it with me but I did...but now it was lost.

I got separated from the rest of my troop. Somehow I had gotten turned around and was finding hard to get my bearing. What side of the ravine I was on? Which way led back to camp? I was trying to figure it out when a mass of flashlights swarmed around me. It was hard to count their numbers as the lights shined in my eyes no matter what direction I turned. It made my eyes blur and see double. I felt like I had been surrounded by a pack of wild dogs growling and staring at me. I was getting scared. That was when these dogs started to bite. Their 6" round "nips" of ice and dirt were stinging my face, my back, getting into my shirt. I fell to the ground in an effort to cover up when my hand brushed a stick of wood just lying there. It was MY stick. My lovingly prepared walking stick felt warm through my gloved fingers. That was when one of those balls of ice and dirt hit me in my ear.

I got up at a run heading up the ravine as fast as I could but the pack stayed with me, keeping me in the center of their circle. I was getting angry. I stopped and screamed something, I don't remember what. I started off again heading up the hill but this time it was a feint. I quickly turned, running down the hill not to get away but to get in RANGE. I struck out at flashlights as that was all that I could see. One, two, then three lights hit the ground as the sweat from my efforts countered the cold of the slush ball melting on my neck. Someone got too close and I didn't care. I hit something but I didn't know what. The sound of his scream was enough to make me stop. The lights where all gone, either on the ground or running away. I dropped my stick and took off in the other direction.

I ran for a while till I finally found a camp site...but this one wasn't mine. I walked for a while till FINALLY, I found my camp. Sure enough, my troop was sitting around the fire with the three scoutmasters drinking whatever hot liquid was their preferred beverage. Once in camp, I ran past the fire and straight into my tent falling into my bag shivering. I shook from the cold, the fear, the rage, and the regret. I knew that I needed to get out of my wet things so I changed in a hurry, getting clean clothes out of the Ziploc bags. My hair was still wet so I stuck a toboggan on my head, zipped on a new dry coat, and walked to sit next to the fire. I was still shaking.

I wasn't there 5 minutes before a scoutmaster from another troop came walking into our camp looking for "a boy, about this tall, with a stick." He went on to explain that one kid had a broken arm and another possibly a broken jaw. They were both on their way to the local hospital. My scoutmasters looked at each other for a second and one turned to the visitor saying, "Sorry friend, but these boys have been with us all night. Good luck finding him." And you know what? My friends and my scoutmasters never asked and never brought it up. What he did was offer me a cup of hot chocolate to take the chill off.

I still feel regret and I still have some remorse. I was wrong and I'll always wonder if their suffering was greater than it needed to be. I was wrong and they were wrong. We were kids. But you know, sometimes when you or a group of people you are with shine your lights on someone, throwing harsh words and slush balls, what you get back is a stick in the face.

To my friends, I recommend doing neither.

Anyway, for them what care...