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POW Camp: July 17, 1995 (anecdote)

We competed for ‘our’ amusement under a blaring sun in 100+ degree weather in a field on the outskirts of a swamp. Disease carrying ticks, virus wielding mosquitos, and venomous bees surrounded our bare feet. We were only 7 years old.

The current activity, “SPUD,” was designed around anti-escape conditioning. Even though we wouldn’t be able to escape, today was one for retaliation…

McKenna, Waters, and I were in the shack intently listening to SPUD when we heard the outcries from Kiernan and Mixter, “HELP! HELP! Daly’s hurt” Commotion and chaos drew the counselors outside. It was time for phase 2.

Waters and I boosted McKenna to the sink, he could barely touch the prize. His fingers grazed the box, but were unable to pull it down. Daly’s distraction was waning, the counselors were fast approaching the shack. Waters asserted, “Just knock it down dude!” McKenna swiped the box; showering lollipops over his head as he jumped down with them. Waters grabbed the half-empty container while I scurried to get the remaining evidence strewn on the floor. The other two hoisted me toward the attic where we stashed the loot under a Monopoly board.

We crept back downstairs, order had nearly restored when we feigned surprise at counselor Brandi carrying an injured camper whose foot was engorged pink and dotted red. Daly looked at me with a weak smile, I winked at him, then he closed his eyes. Brandi, who had been aggravated by the commotion proceeded to step on a stray lollipop. He grimaced at the missing candy box and peeled the sticky mess from his foot, “We’ve got some bad boys.”

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