When I was stationed at Aberdeen Proving Ground, Maryland, for the Ordnance Officer Advanced Course, I met several interesting people, some of whom I had known from my days in Officer Candidate School (OCS). One such officer that I had known since my days in OCS was a Captain by the name of Craig Harding. Craig was in the same platoon as I was in OCS. We were both junkyard dogs. Craig was my closest partner in crime during our days in OCS, and he knew about my stash of pogey bait that I kept in my red Chevy van parked in the parking lot out behind the barracks. Needless to say, he had as much access to my van during our OCS days as I did. Through the years, he and I became pretty close friends. At the Ordnance Officer Advanced Course, Craig was in the class ahead of me. As a result, he gave me a lot of good intelligence about what to expect during my time at the schoolhouse. He was also stationed at Aberdeen Proving Ground with his second wife and her two children. He was having problems with the older of the two children. She was not doing well in school and she had discipline problems. He knew that I was really good with children, so he asked if I would talk to her. I said, “Sure.” He invited me over for dinner one evening, and I struck up a conversation with his daughter about a song she was listening to. She was actually surprised that I knew who the artist was and what the song was about, so she responded to my conversation. That evening, I got her to open up on a variety of subjects and I finally steered the conversation around to what was actually bothering her. You know, most kids, check that, all kids are like all other people. They just want to be treated like people. They want to know that you care and that you’re listening to them and that you hear what they have to say. We talked for at least a couple of hours that evening. And I found out what was really bothering her. First, she had no clue how to do math. As a result, she was failing in math, and her parents either didn’t even know or they didn’t care or both. And second, there was a boy at school that was really giving her a hard time. And she really didn’t know what to do about that, either. I asked her if she had told anybody about the problem. But she said she hadn’t because she was afraid to. How can a child be afraid to talk to their own parents about a problem that they are experiencing? Especially if it’s a serious problem. When I got ready to leave, I think she shocked the shit out of her parents. She asked if I could come over again to visit with her. Her parents looked at me, then they looked at her and said, “Well, he might be busy. We’ll have to check and see.” Then she looked at me and asked, “Could you come over again?” “Well, it’s kinda up to your parents. But I can come over anytime when I’m not in school,” I replied. So, Craig looked over at her and said, “I will talk with him tomorrow and we will work something out. All right?” “Okay.” With that, I left. The next day, Craig talked with me and asked what had happened with his stepdaughter. I just told him about the conversation we had. I said, “I think I can really help her out. She just needs someone to talk with. As time went on I actually started to babysit for the Harding children, and I took them out to the movies a few times. Another guy I met while attending the Ordnance Officer Advanced Course was a Captain by the name of Clyde Warren. Clyde was in the same class that I was in, and he was a pretty big muscular guy. Now it’s funny how the strangest people become friends. But Clyde and I were like that. Most people would never have expected us to become friends, but we did. And the funniest thing is that it happened over something really silly and stupid. As I recall, what happened was that one morning, as we were waiting for class to start, a female captain by the name of Shirley Stewart came in and deliberately knocked Clyde’s books onto the floor. Then, Captain Stewart decided she hadn’t caused enough trouble yet. So, she promptly knocked my books onto the floor. I yelled, “What the hell? What is your major malfunction?” Then I picked up my books. I guess I must’ve looked at Captain Stewart the wrong way because she promptly knocked my books onto the floor again. I looked at Warren, then I looked at Stewart, and then I said, “Of course you realize this means war.” Right then, the course instructor walked in, so I couldn’t really do anything at that particular moment. But I would exact my revenge at a later time. After class, when we were out in the hall, Captain Stewart had her books nonchalantly tucked under her arm. That was a big mistake. I whispered to Captain Warren, “Time for operation shit strike.” He looked at me with this goofy look on his face and asked, “Operation shit strike? What in the hell is that?” “This is where one half of the Wild West Bunch strikes fear into the very heart of our mortal enemy, Captain Stewart.” “One half of the Wild West Bunch? Who or what is the Wild West Bunch?” “You and me, man. Try to keep up. We’re the Wild West Bunch. I’ll explain the whole concept later. Right now, all you have to do is be my tag-team partner. Watch this.” I snuck up behind Captain Stewart and punched the books out of her arm. They flew all over the floor. I let out a mighty whoop, “Payback!” When Captain Warren saw what I had done, he also yelled, “Payback!” I clapped him on the back and said, “Let’s go get a beer Clyde. I’m going to tell y’all about our new partnership.” He replied, “You mean the Wild West Bunch?” “That’s right. The Wild West Bunch.” We changed clothes and went downtown to get a beer. While we were sitting in the club drinking a beer, some people struck up a conversation with us. They asked, “Are you guys new in town?“ I looked at Clyde and said, “Let me do all the talking. I’ll tell you when to jump in.” I looked over at the people talking to us and said, “We’re not really new in town, per se. We’re here to perform. Actually, we’re performing in Baltimore. You may have heard of us. We’re the Wild West Bunch. We’re professional wrestlers. We’re tag-team partners.” Then, Clyde jumped in and said, “Yeah. We’re currently competing for the championship belts.” Then, a couple of the people in the crowd said, “Hey. I have heard of you guys. Yeah. You’re pretty good. So, you’re wrestling in Baltimore, huh?” “Yup.” We both replied. Thus, the Wild West Bunch was born as just another schoolhouse exercise in futility.
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