This newspaper article is a nice little story about boy scouts, seeds and deer hunters. I encourage you to read it.
Now, in the immortal words of the legendary radio host Paul Harvey, here is the rest of the story.
It is about the heroes of Troop 75.
It was a cold November night in 1969 northwest of Carlsbad, N.M., the night before deer-hunting season began. This is my memory of that night. The story begins at a roadblock where the Madrids and Mashaws were on seed-delivery duty, handing hunters small paper bags with seeds to spread near their camps.
An official, I think he was a forest ranger, got a call on his radio that a person had fallen in the Guadalupe Mountains and needed immediate medical care to survive.
We were told that someone, who I believe was a deputy, was driving the injured person to the hospital, and he was headed our way at 100 miles per hour. The deputy, we were assured, was an excellent driver.
We were told to keep the hunters in line. I watched the road for the headlights of the speeding vehicle. I don’t remember who did what, but I do remember that my brother Joe Madrid and Eddie Mashaw, the senior scouts, took the lead.
They moved down the line of cars telling drivers what was happening, telling them not to move. But newly arriving hunters didn’t want to wait, they tried to pass the stopped vehicles. As you can imagine, it was a precarious situation, with maybe 15 cars in line.
No headlights yet.
Perilous times call for drastic efforts, and the scouts got in front of the cars and screamed at the impatient drivers. The boys berated them back into line hurling the F word with great effect.
The scouts cleared the lane.
I think the hunters were shocked to see wide-eyed frantic boy scouts yelling at them to “get (the F word) back in line right now!” I believe the profanity so surprised the hunters that they immediately obeyed.
Just then, the headlights appeared in the distance, then WHOOSH, the vehicle sped by at 100 or more miles per hour. It is hard for me to describe what that was like. It was a big hunk of heavy metal flying by in the blink of the eye leaving swirling dust and dumbstruck hunters in its wake.
Catastrophe averted.
I do not know if the injured person survived. I do know the boy scouts never got credit for their heroics. I laugh imagining those hunters’ conversations about the foul-mouthed boy scouts who saved their lives.
Troop 75 was not your average boy scout troop. The troop was renowned in Boy Scout circles for its lemon meringue pie. Every Boy Scout Jamboree, Troop 75 won 1st place with that pie. I think the prize was for baking.
I’ll tell you this, if there existed a Boy Scout Jamboree award for proper use of the F word, Troop 75 would have dominated that competition too. They deserved at least a merit badge.
And now you know the rest of the story.
David Madrid
Contact: David Madrid
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