Finally we compromised. “Alright, I’ll have a guy drive you all up in one of our vans. We can say that your minivan broke down or something,” he said.
“Fair enough,” I agreed.
“I’m not done yet. After he drops you and the boys off, he’s going to hang around somewhere down the road. In the meantime, we’ll give you a little radio transmitter with a panic button on it. If there’s a problem, hit the button and we’ll come running.” He pulled what looked like a big key fob out of his pocket. “Here, take this. Your wife is getting one, too.”
I stared at it for a moment. It was plain black plastic, with a single red button, and a clear plastic cover over the button. You had to flick off the cover before hitting the button, so it was safe from accidentally setting itself off. “You’re kidding me, right? How’s it work?”
“You know about GPS? The military uses it. It’s a bunch of satellites that can tell where anybody is in the world if they have the right receiver.” He pointed at the gizmo in my hands. “That’s got a GPS receiver built in and a radio transmitter. Once you hit the button, we can track you down.”
I knew what GPS was, and could probably have given a lecture on it, but this was much more advanced than I expected. “What, like in that James Bond movie?”
“Something like that. Don’t lose it, either. You don’t want to know how much these things cost!” he finished.
There’s nothing all that difficult about camping with the Scouts. Back when I was a Cubmaster and Scoutmaster, I had distilled it down to three simple rules, Buckman’s Rules for Camping:
1 — Keep ‘em warm!
2 — Keep ‘em dry!
3 — Keep ‘em well fed!
Do those three things and the kids won’t care what you make them do! Five mile hikes in the snow? No problem — just follow the three rules. March them off a cliff? No problem — just follow the three rules. Violate those rules and you can turn happy campers into miserable whiny brats in minutes!
It’s a lot like being back in the Army!
Of the three rules, Number 3 is the easiest. Boys running around in the woods burn up a lot of calories. Even the boys who are the pickiest eaters will eat not one sandwich, but two. It doesn’t have to be fancy, just hot and filling. For breakfast feed them pancakes and scrambled eggs, sausage and bacon. For lunch it’s not soup or sandwiches, it’s soup and sandwiches. Make sure there’s enough for seconds. Keep a bag of apples around for anybody to munch on.
Rules 1 and 2 are trickier, and require discipline. You always have some kids who won’t dress properly because it’s not ‘cool.’ So they don’t wear jackets or boots or long underwear. You can tell them until you’re blue in the face that they won’t have any place to go inside and hang around if they get chilly. Hell, half the parents aren’t smart enough to figure this stuff out! The only way to make them understand is by having an inspection before you load the gear up and send home the kids who flunk. For that you need a tough and fair leader.
You can usually tell who’s been around for awhile — they look like a bunch of ragamuffins. They certainly don’t look cool, but they do look warm and dry and comfortable. Marilyn and I went out in the late morning and picked up some new long underwear for Charlie and me, and some heavy socks for the both of us. Otherwise, we’d survive the night. He had a good heavy coat and some gloves, and some hiking boots that he hadn’t outgrown yet. Otherwise we’d just throw layers on him. For equipment he had a day pack that would suffice, along with a small gym bag, and a lightweight sleeping bag that we would line with a couple of light blankets to beef it up.
My gear was pretty routine. I didn’t give two shits about looking cool. I had a pretty decent sleeping bag I kept in my trunk for emergency use, so I threw a liner inside (one of the girls’ Care Bears blankets) and threw everything else into a duffle bag. We weren’t doing any hiking, so that was good enough. I had some Carhartt overalls and a matching coat that I wore at times when I was working outside, and an old pair of jump boots. I also threw a pair of insulated barn boots in the back of the van in case it was wet. Lousy for hiking, but great for snow or mud.
Scouting wasn’t part of Marilyn’s background, but it had been in mine. When we mentioned it to Charlie he had been interested, and we had signed him up with Pack 116 in Monkton, just the other side of Hereford. There was supposed to be a pack in Hampstead, which was closer, but they operated out of the Hampstead Elementary School. Charlie’s buddies in Fifth District Elementary were in Pack 116. It made a lot more sense for him to go over to Monkton. Pack 116 ran out of St. James Episcopal. Occasionally I would tease Marilyn that this was a back door method for the Protestants to get their hands on our son. Most of the time she would snort in laughter and say they were welcome to him, he was obviously a lost cause!
We were up early. I helped my son finish packing and then finished myself, and we loaded our gear up in our driver’s Caravan. We had to be at the school by no later than 9:00. The camping trip was part of the Boy Scout Camporee held up at Broad Creek Camp in Harford County. The Boy Scouts were there for two nights, starting Friday night. The little guys needed to work up to that. By the time all the late-comers got to school and we actually got on the road, it was closer to 9:30. We got to the camporee mid-morning.
The first order of business was checking in and finding our campsite, then we drove up and unloaded our gear. It was December, and in Maryland that meant the weather was crisp, but not snowy. That was fine with me. I used to go on winter camping trips in upstate New York in February, and that usually meant several feet of snow. If it was deep enough, you’d have some troops building igloos! I wasn’t that hard core. We carried several bales of hay with us to spread out on the ground where we were setting up the tents. It softened things up and acted as an insulating barrier. We set up quickly and then sent the boys off with a couple of leaders to start their events.
The Boy Scouts would be tested on various survival skills, like first aid and starting fires, and would win points in a competition. The Cub Scouts were more focused on learning this stuff the first time around, so they would be cycled through various stations to get some instruction, either from an adult or a senior Boy Scout. Those of us back at the camp finished setting things up and started preparing lunch.
After lunch, about a half dozen of the fathers and I were sitting around the campfire on camp chairs and drinking coffee. Well, I was drinking tea, but that’s simply because I was more civilized. There was a box of Lipton tea bags in the chuck wagon box, and that was plenty fine for me. That was when I noticed a few Boy Scouts coming towards our camp, accompanied by a couple of adult leaders. This was a bit unusual, since we don’t normally mix Boy Scouts and Cub Scouts. Webelos were nine and ten, Scouts were generally older and a lot bigger. It was better to keep them separated except during group events, like campfires or training events.
Something caught my attention and I turned back towards the campfire with the other guys, and then a shout made me turn my head. One of the adults who had joined us with the Scouts was talking to Al Parker, Johnny’s father, and Al turned and called out, “Hey, Carl! I’ve got some of your constituents here!”
I gave him a curious look. “My constituents?”
“Are you Congressman Buckman?” asked one of the Boy Scouts. He looked to be about 13 or 14, but wearing a coat, I couldn’t see his uniform and rank badge.