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girlfriend's home. Two of her friends were there so we all had a date. At the San Carlos, Country set a bottle of bourbon under the table and ordered ice and coke. We all felt the glow from the bourbon by the time dinner was served and had become good friends. We had quite a ball at the dance, thanks to Country Moore.
Peter Folse invited me to his aunt and uncle's home for the Christmas holidays. They lived in Monroe, Louisiana and we had no transportation. I suggested we ride freight trains and darn if Peter didn't take me up on it. We got a leave by telling Captain Pattilo we were traveling by car. It was not difficult to get a ride to New Orleans with parents of one of the cadets who lived there. In New Orleans we crossed the river and headed for the Texas Pacific railroad yard. By 2:00 that afternoon we were on our way to Monroe in an empty boxcar. Sometime that night we pulled into Alexandria where the train broke up. We found a hash-house near the yard and filled up on hamburgers and coffee. The waitress told us a freight would pull out for Monroe about 2:00 a.m. This time we were unable to locate an empty boxcar so we grabbed a tank-car, which meant that we were forced to stand on the platform and hold on to the hand-rail that was fastened around the tank. Peter and I were getting mighty sleepy by this time so we spent the rest of the night punching one another to prevent a bad if not fatal fall. We arrived in Monroe in the afternoon. When we got to Peter's uncle's home we learned that he and his wife had gone away for the holidays. There was nothing we could do but go in through a window.
After we got in we took a bath, raided the pantry, and called Peter's girlfriend who drove over in her father's car that evening to pick us up. We then picked up another boy and two more girls and we went out on the town. Liquor was hard to get in Monroe; most of the roaring twenties crowd there drank Jamaican ginger. A one ounce bottle could be purchased in most drugstores for fifty cents. The trick was to get it down. First one must procure two bottles of Coke, pour out half of one bottle and pour in the Jamaican ginger, take a deep breath, drink all of it down, then take a big swig of cola in order to put the fire out before exhaling. One could take more pure Coke as needed. Back home in
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Mississippi I had seen a few cases of "jake leg" and "jake neck" reportedly caused by drinking Jamaican ginger made from a poison root almost indistinguishable from the real ginger root. I never saw the affliction in Monroe. We were able to be home before the New Year. Experience paid off! However, Captain Patillo learned about our method of travel and called us up to his office. We stood at attention before him and he never said "at ease" until I answered his query. "Didn't you tell me you were going to travel in a car?" I answered, "That's right, Sir, we just failed to say what kind of car?" That broke the tension with laughter. Old Pat was a good scout, and very much respected by the entire corps. Gulf Coast Military Academy was an honor school as long as he was there.
We were practicing baseball before basketball season ended. Like the previous year we were tops, although we did miss Andy Reese, who had starred in all sports but had gone to Vanderbilt University. Andy became the first GCMA athlete to play major league baseball, signing with the New York Giants. Later, three more of my teammates became major league players - Spud Davis, Philadelphis Phils; Jackie Hays, Washington Senators; and Milton Pradat, Washington Senators. Pradat, my old. eighth grade teammate at Handsboro, came to GCMA because I urged him to play with us. He also earned a letter in football at the academy. We were still good friends when he passed away in 1968. Before school was out in 1925, two athletic scholarships were offered me, Wally Wade at Alabama and Homer Hazel at Ole Miss. I could not accept.
For some reason I have never been able to understand, a number of my close friends have been persons of marked intellect. Why they were interested enough in me to allow me to cultivate their friendship shall always remain a mystery; nevertheless, I shall always be grateful for all that I was privileged to learn from my association with them. Keith DeKalb was one of them. He graduated from high school at GCMA in the summer of 1924, having completed four years of high school in two years. A military genius, Keith was then a cadet captain. He entered the University of Arizona in the fall of 1924.
We corresponded that winter and planned to meet in New
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