Earning the Golden Bandage Award

Being an adult Boy Scout Leader can be a rewarding experience, so I was told before signing the contract.  When I turned the signed contract in, the man hid his smirk.  This should have been my first clue, but I wanted to help out the troop where my son was now a member. 

“Hey there, welcome aboard.” The scoutmaster, Mr. Hinge shook my hand, “You have joined just in time.”

“How so?” I asked in complete naivety.

“Summer camp is in three weeks.  We are going to Camp Geronimo this year.” Mr. Hinge told me as his smirk reappeared. 

“Great.” I smiled, but had I been able to peer into the future, I might have run away screaming.  I have never been even the slightest bit clairvoyant. I have always been ignorant of the future. I had just signed up for the worst summer vacation of my life 

  Five adult scout leaders, of which I was one, took twenty Boy Scouts to Camp Geronimo in Payson, Arizona from our troop.  While my home in Gilbert sizzled in triple digit temperatures, there was always a cool breeze blowing up near the Mogollon Rim at the camp. 

The hike up hill to Camp #24, was a six-mile hike over some unforgiving terrain. It was hot and dry most of the way and I must confess it was harder than I had bargained for. As a leader, I was not going to let on that this hike with all my stuff crammed into a backpack was testing the limits of my physical endurance.  I would keep my stiff upper lip in place even if I bit through it in the process. 

According to what I heard; Camp Geronimo was once a hiding place for the famous Apache leader of the same name when he was on the run from the cavalry.  Located on the Mogollon Rim, from the parade fields, you can see rock formations that look like mounted Apache warriors around twilight.  Seeing these shadows made me feel uneasy at first until I got used to it. 

The hike up hill to Camp #24, was a six-mile hike over some unforgiving terrain. It was hot and dry most of the way and I must confess it was harder than I had bargained for. As a leader, I was not going to let on that this hike with all my stuff crammed into a backpack was testing the limits of my physical endurance.  I would keep my stiff upper lip in place even if I bit through it in the process. The boys on the other hand were not afraid to show how difficult the trail was as they began to complain and groan with each step.  

One of the younger members of the troop brandishing a walking stick from REI, began to complain with his tears.  Tripping over the gravel, he fell skinning his knee.  Through his discomfort, he declared that he was going to discard his expensive walking stick into the bushes.  Knowing how much that stick cost, I was not about to let him do that and instead told him to “suck it up.”  This did not go over well, but I will give him credit, he still had that walking stick when we finally got to the campsite.  

Arriving exhausted, I was shown to my tent that I would share with another adult leader in a lean-to style.  The cot was one of those tension snap-together with a taut green canvas that was hard as some of the rocks we had stumbled over on our way here. 

I had been put in charge of the medical supplies and the boys’ medicine, but since one of the leaders was a paramedic, he became really the resident expert.  It didn’t take long before I found out that I had taken on quite a bit more than I had bargained for on this camping trip.  

The real job was to make sure the boys went to events they had signed up for so that from about 10 am until 4 pm in the afternoon, the five adult leaders were free of the test of the scouts.  Sitting in my chair, I enjoyed the peace and serenity that comes with being deep in the woods.  

 I did however get bored from napping and would wander around to keep tabs on what the boys were up to.  When the boys came back at 4 pm, we would clean up the campsite and prepare to go to the chow hall at around 5 pm.  The dining facility was about three miles downhill, but this buffet style dining hall had some very good entrees.  The camp was celebrating its fiftieth anniversary so there was always a little surprise waiting for us at dinner.  

As the sun drained from the sky, we would get together with other troops for some Boy Scout Style of entertainment which included silly skits and crazy campfire songs.  

Lights out was at 9 pm, but most of the boys would stay up until 10 pm.  Wearing my headlamp to read by, I quickly found out that the bugs would fly into the light like little bullets.  Reading became a hazardous affair.  What was even more concerning is that I disobeyed the rule of “no snacks” and heard scuffling noises under our floorboards as I munched on trail mix. 

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Skylar was not a water guy like me.  The rest of the boys filed out to the pool.  We were scheduled for a swim test the first day of the camp.  So, there we stood waiting for our test.  We had no idea that the water temperature was barely at 60 degrees.  For a summer in Arizona, it meant the water was frigid.

 When we all jumped into the pool water (one of the few activities adult leaders had to go to) the shock of the cold water could just about knock you out.

After that Skylar refused to get into the water.  I managed, but while swimming my laps, I spit out a discarded band aid that floated into my open mouth.  I would go on the last day of camp and get the miler badge for swimming 60 laps that equaled one mile.  By then the water had finally reached 60 degrees Fahrenheit and there were no floating band aids that I encountered.

Another thing we had to get used to was cold showers.  Most of the boys refused to get into the shower with water that was too cold for them.   It was just another memory that will forever be in my mind. 

Many of the boys were also not used to open latrines which means the facilities were nothing more than a wooden bench with three holes without running water or in other words you did not have to flush.  Flies and other bugs love to descend on these holes creating clouds of greedy, hungry bugs that would die for these open latrines if they had to.  I will not go into the stench that flowed from these places, but once again it will live forever in my memory.

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I know I am skipping ahead, but on the last night of camp there is a big bonfire ceremony where awards are presented to the participating troops, and we won an award that I had to go up there to receive.  What award, you ask?  How about “The Golden Band Aid Award?”  And when the trophy was handed to me, it was what its title said it was, a gilded band aid.  Now your next question would be, “How did we earn such a prestigious award.  This memory, too, is forever filed away.

On the first night of camp, one of the boys went off trail and found some poison oak.  The burning rash was evident after dinner as it was getting dark (and the stone Apache warriors were visible the entire way) to the infirmary.  

When we got to the infirmary the RN had the infected scout apply some calamine lotion to his itchy rash.  

“We get quite a few cases of poison oak.” She smiled.

As we left, I bid her farewell without knowing I was going to make several more trips throughout the week.  Once the applied lotion began to soothe the itch, we decided to hike back uphill to camp.  There was some lighting, but on this rocky trail, it was still very dark.  For the better part of the hike, I spent tripping over several roots and foliage on our way back to camp.  

On the second night, one of the boys got really ill after dinner, but the wood provided plenty of places to vomit rather than fight the clouds of insects in the latrine.  Once again, I hiked with the scout down to the infirmary for some Pepto Bismol and then again in the dark uphill back to camp.  He still was not feeling well after our ten-mile hike, but facing the alternative in the latrine, he wandered back to his tent and into his sleeping bag.

Next morning the scout reported that he was still feeling unwell and so once again we hiked to the infirmary.  The nurse at the infirmary kept the scout in one of the beds in her station.  By the time dinner came around, the scout was in real pain, so one of the adult leaders of the troop transported the sick scout to a Payson Emergency Care Unit where it was determined he was suffering from appendicitis.   From there he was transported back to Gilbert where his parents took him to the hospital to have his appendix surgically removed. 

Before our adult leader got back to camp after dropping off the sick scout for transport, I had to hike with another scout who had twisted his ankle.  Without any means of transporting him, we were forced to hike with him on his bad ankle.  He put his arm around my shoulders and kept his injured ankle wrapped.  

Since he was an athlete at his high school, this was not much of an obstacle as I first anticipated.  The nurse had to rewrap the sprain and on our return trip, he would be on crutches.  Needless to say, between his learning curve to walk on the crutches and the darkness that swallowed us up, we got back to camp past lights out.  

I did not sleep through the night.  I heard a timid voice call my name and when I looked up from my peaceful slumber, I saw four scouts lined up at the entrance to the tent, one of them being my own son.

Spider bite.

Yes, we were to be on the lookout since there were poisonous spiders reported in the area.

So, a five-mile hike with a scout who had been given first aid by three other boys that included Skylar.  

Apparently, the unseen spider had bit him on his finger which was heavily wrapped with gauze.  He was not scared, which was a good thing.  

When we got to the station, the nurse called me in as she removed the gauze from the boy’s finger.  She laughed out loud and called me in to see what had tickled her funny bone.  

When I walked in, I saw that there was over a pound of gauze on the table.  As it turned out there was no spider bite that could be detected.  The nurse told me if it had been a poisonous spider, the skin would be red and infected, easy to spot.  She could find nothing, but she was impressed by the bandage the other three boys had applied for their comrade.  Back up to the camp and I could hardly keep my eyes open on the return trip, but the scout next to me was smiling the entire way, relieved that he was not going to die of a spider bite. 

Next afternoon the kid with the walking stick came to us during lunch.  He was a diabetic and his blood sugar was dangerously low due to the morning physical activity.  Since the chow hall was a five-mile downhill hike, he was not going to make it safely.  

The scout leader, a paramedic to help apply an insulin injection.  Mr. Thompson, the paramedic adult leader, prepared the boy’s insulin.  The boy took the syringe for his self-injection, and jerked the needle squirting the contents over the crouch of Mr. Thompson’s shorts.  Even with his soaked shorts Mr. Thompson loaded the scout into his pickup and drove him into the Pasyon Emergency Room. They would be gone the rest of the day waiting for another insulin injection.  

On the last day of camp, the scoutmaster told the boys nobody else was allowed to get sick or injured.  I took the boys on the Cat Eye hike of five miles following a compass and a map with markers in the trees to guide them along the correct trail.  But as I heard gunfire, I began to get worried since the firing range was getting closer.  The guide for the camp said the trail was far enough away that we would not have to worry about it.  He was wrong.  I heard the Rangemaster yell, “Cease fire!”  

Later one of our boys told me that I had wandered into the “unsafe zone” following the trail and when the Rangemaster ordered cease fire, he wanted to keep shooting saying he would aim low.  This was not reassuring to me in the least. 

So, I took the Golden Bandage Award home with me, proud that we had been recognized for something we did in our seven days at Camp Geronimo.  

Looking at Skylar, his eyelids were indeed heavy.  There was also a ripe stench about him.  I knew that Skylar’s experience had been a good one with the exception of the pool, which was the first thing he told his mother when he got home.  I showed her the Golden Bandage award and the first aid that had been applied by my son and two other scouts for a non-existent spider bite and she could not stop laughing as she pictured them huddled around the injured boy applying nearly all of the gauze in their first aid kits.

I would go to camp for three more summers as an adult leader.  Skylar quit just as I started attending Arizona State University for my teaching credentials.   

Sometimes I recall that feeling of being called to the big fire to receive the Golden Bandage Award, knowing that the team really pulled together for this one. I don’t know if the trophy is still in the troop’s trophy case, but if it is, it’s my legacy to the troop.  I will never admit that I was so proud to be presented the Golden Bandage away by the nurse who manned the infirmary during out fabled stay at Geronimo Summer Camp in Payson.