Birth of the Blue Missile

OK get out your banjo here it comes----


At sunrise the next morning we ate and got our weapons. I was handed a police 12-guage riot gun (shotgun) loaded with rifled slugs (one single chunk of lead instead of small shot), and was told that all I had to do was point it at the bear and shoot. It was sure to kill, no problems. I was quite dismayed that we were hunting bear! The thought occurred to me that if it were only wounded, we could become the hunted! Not being the accomplished woodsman, I went to where I was sure Fred told me to sit, and I waited. About an hour later I heard some crashing in the bushes in the next small valley, about ten yards away. About an hour after that I heard T.J. whistling for everybody to gather and go back to camp. When we all got together they asked me where I had been. I then proceeded to show them where I had been sitting against the base of a tree. Fred said that I had been in the wrong place and showed me where I was supposed to have been. They then told me, while they laughed, that they had sent the bear my way. If I had been sitting where Fred had told me to sit, the bear would have run right into me!

We then went back to the farm for some supplies and to do some target shooting. When it came time to be my turn, we all discovered to everyone’s horror, that the safety on the shotgun was broken and that even when the safety was switched off, the gun still wouldn’t fire! This meant that if I had met the bear, I would have had to beat him to death with the gun! God had delivered me out of the jaws of death, Praise God! It was then decided that when we returned to camp I should stay in camp and cook for the guys instead of going hunting, Praise God. We then picked up some more food and ammo and returned to camp. They had constructed a rather impressive cabin out of cinder block, with bunk beds and a wood burning stove, so staying another night didn’t seem like it would be so bad. I then found out that the moonshine would be coming to camp with one of Jim’s friends who was bringing his dogs for tomorrow’s hunt. This gave me a very unsettled feeling.

All throughout this time Jim never stopped calling me “Jew Boy” and some of his friends started to do likewise. This was getting old. The other friends and the moonshine arrived after dinner, which consisted of stew made of locally grown potatoes and a squirrel. Fred had shot the squirrel in mid air jumping from tree to tree. Everyone was getting drunk and there was still a lot of the original three gallons of shine left. I personally have no physical tolerance for alcohol because it simply puts me to sleep. So I had a capful, which was remarkably smooth, using it as a sleeping aid, and retired to the cabin to sleep in one of the bunk beds.



The next morning when I arose Fred was already up, and TJ’s cousin John who had been up all night, was still drinking. Of the original three gallons of shine, there was the better part of one left, which he was attempting to finish. The main group went hunting, leaving me alone with TJ’s cousin, whom they deemed too drunk to hunt. Most of the men had brought their own weapons, so the original cash of guns we brought from Miami was still in camp. While John was sitting quietly in a folding chair drinking, I set about cleaning camp and started to chop wood for the fire. The cleared area of the camp was about forty feet square with the cabin being in one corner. John was sitting next to the cabin and I was in the diagonally opposite corner of the camp chopping wood.

All of a sudden he spoke up saying “Hey Jew Boy, where ya from?” I answered “America”. He responded “No, where in America?” I chose to use our new home, knowing the kind of response New York would get, and said “Miami”. At this there was no response. Then all of a sudden he started firing a high powered rifle at the ground very near my feet. He then said “Hey Jew Boy, where ya parents from?” I answered “America”, and left it at that. I could see where he was going with this. All through this time I was watching the gallon jug of moonshine being consumed. He continued to fire at the ground near me, and it was all I could do to control the anger; fear was not even part of the picture. Must have been God! I then moved to just in front of the cabin and started to chop a three inch thick pine tree I felled earlier into one foot lengths, getting angrier as I went.


There must be a cliff around here somewhere................
Andrew