Running With Eagles

RUNNING WITH EAGLES

By Noel Laflin

July 2004

Topo Map of this sector - vintage 1966

On the night of the raid we prepared by emptying our pockets of all personal items and applying ground charcoal to our faces.  As we did so, my mind wandered back to the campfire earlier in the evening; Jeff Sherwood had fumbled my name and introduced me to the entire camp as Neal Nauflin. A fellow newbie to the group and friend from school, Scott MacDonald, was still howling about that one.  He would henceforth refer to me as Nauflin, for the rest of our lives. So much for my first day on the Ahwahnee staff  - along my newly acquired name.  It was the summer of 1966 – I was thirteen years old.

Now, I don’t believe this was actually intended to be a so-called panty raid, even if the intended target was the staff quarters of the neighboring Camp Fire Girls’ camp.  And the fact that no one actually came back with so much as a sock, let alone a pair of underwear definitely put it out of league with the usual fraternity prank.  But for my pal, Scott, and me it was simply the thrill of being allowed to run wild with the older guys that appealed to our most basic youthful instincts.

At a predetermined late night hour, staff men gathered around the cabin of Dennis Banowitz, our quiet, soft-spoken rifle range instructor.  He appeared to be the ringleader.   His plan was this: we were going to creep into the woods above the Staff Hill and make our way up to the nearby water tower.  From here we would cross the  highway in pairs, avoiding detection from any stray late night traffic.   After crossing safely we would reenter the forest and go right, toward Camp Wintaka. It would not be far from this point.  We would follow the signs within the camp itself to their staff quarters and once inside look for things to “borrow” and bring back as proof of having been there.

We were admonished to wear dark clothes only and carry no identification in case of capture.  Ahwahnee’s name was not to be said aloud, nor was the name of any other staff member.  And if caught, we were duty bound to try and escape.  In retrospect it all sounded pretty corny.  At the time, Scott and I, along with everyone else took it dead seriously.  I remember wondering if my mom had labeled  the inside of any of my clothes.

Once properly attired and inspected, we were off creeping through the woods toward the water tower and highway.  Scott and I stayed together and eventually hitched on to one of the older guys who seemed to know where he was going, as we certainly did not. Our trio did not rush things, but cautiously made our way along, ducking at the sound of anything remotely suspicious. The other guys were well ahead of us.  Finally, all points were safely reached when we suddenly found ourselves within the property limits of Wintaka itself; the well lit sign facing the road was proof enough.  We stayed in the shadows of the trees trying to determine our next move.

It was about then that we heard all of the commotion and saw many of our fellow staff members come barreling back our way.  Lights were flickering on within the camp, voices were raised and there was the sound of a truck and the glare of headlights heading our way.  I guess we had been detected.  We did not stick around to determine the truth to this; the three of us  hightailed it back for camp for all we were worth.  By then the forest was alive with dark clad figures scurrying for cover and trying to make it across the road and back to Ahwahnee property.

When we finally gathered back on Staff Hill, it was a carnival atmosphere.  People excitedly talked about how Wintaka had come to life when a little too much noise was detected as our folks were attempting to pry off everything in sight. The guy in the truck was the ranger apparently and he must have sounded the alarm.  That’s when pandemonium set in and everyone made a run for the woods.

Guys were now proudly displaying their loot.  It was mostly in the form of wooden signs “borrowed” from the girl’s camp.  In fact, it looked as though our ambush team had taken down or uprooted half of the postings in Wintaka.  The group photo later showed our gang displaying their plunder, some which read, “Staff Quarters,” “Pool Area,” “Kitchen,” “Camp Store,” and of course the most exotic of all “Rest Rooms.”  I believe someone had even uprooted a STOP sign.

By morning, however, the gig was up.  I guess the Wintaka ranger had figured out in quick order just who the culprits were and had contacted the Ahwahnee brass.  A deal was brokered;  just return the signs, pronto.

Dennis came clean as one of the instigators and accepted responsibility for the gathering  and return of the loot.  It filled the back of the Wintaka ranger’s pickup.  Dennis thought for sure that he’d be fired and sent down the hill because of the stunt and mentally began to prepare himself for such.  I believe that all staff members’ ‘nights off’ were cancelled for the rest of us that week as well.  Meanwhile, the camp leadership kept poor Dennis in limbo for the next three days, telling him that they were reviewing their options as to his punishment.

Finally, on Thursday night, the entire camp staff was told to report to a remote campfire ring for a mandatory meeting.  We were all a little nervous, Dennis especially, as he was specifically told to dress sharp and be on time.  He truly believed he was to be drummed out of camp that night.

When Dennis entered the campfire area, decked out in his cleanest uniform (complete with merit badge sash even)  there were lit torches at the entrance and a fire already burning in the rock lined ring.  Staff were respectfully seated on the old terraced logs  along with camp officials and big wigs (professional Scouters) from the council office.  Dennis’ parents and even his girlfriend were in attendance.   Oh, this looked bad, he told us all later; not only was his dismissal to be public, his parents and girlfriend were there to drive him home.

The meeting was gravely called to order by one of the top council brass and it was then announced that we were all gathered to witness the bestowing of Scouting’s highest award on one of our very own.  It was Dennis’ Eagle Court of Honor.

Dennis looked baffled, surprised, proud and relieved simultaneously.

The roust was complete.  The ceremony had been in the works for weeks, unbeknownst to the nerve-wracked Dennis.  Management figured that they would just string the poor guy along, following the Wintaka stunt, while they had the chance; punishment enough they figured.

It was the first Eagle Court of Honor that I had ever attended and to this day, one of the best kept surprises that I have ever witnessed.  And like all Courts of Honor, there was cake and punch afterward.