It was a hot summer afternoon in early June 1974. I was at my first Civil Air Patrol (CAP) encampment at Camp Grafton on the shores of Devils Lake. I was only 13 years old but had been a member of the Fargo CAP for about six months. My hut-mates and I were trying to cool off. This was difficult because we had been marching in the parade field for a couple hours in a green fatigues with white T-shirts underneath, heavy black combat boots, and green baseball hats. Some of the cadets had fainted in the sun. They had not learned the secret to standing at attention for long periods of time- keep you knees bent. Our galvanized metal huts were already hot under the sun. There was no breeze, but we were not authorized to go anywhere else.
Some older cadets appeared at our open door.
"Anderson, Maas, and Stein, Fall In."
My hut-mates and I quickly moved outside and stood at attention.
"At ease."
We moved easily to a relaxed position with our legs spread and hands behind our backs.
"Because you are new cadets and have never been to encampment before, we feel it is time for you become acquainted with the traditions of CAP encampment. Traditions that if not followed would lessen your enjoyment of encampment and would possibly jeopardize you future in CAP. We're going on a little mission."
"Sir, what mission?" asked Stein.
"Well, Airman First Class Stein, we will tell you when we get there. Now, right face, 'harch. Forward... March!"
Off we went down the line of metal huts. The younger cadets looking on questioning. The older cadets were laughing. We didn't know what to think. Nothing at encampment is ever good. We turned away from the parade field and toward the lake. At least we would not be doing more close order drill.
When we got down to the shoreline, the three of us were ordered to take off our hats, shirt, boots and stocks.
"Now, roll up you fatigues and wade into the lake," barked the Sergeant!
I looked at Stein. He shrugged his shoulders. Anderson said, "Well, at least we'll cool off a little in the lake."
As we waded into the lake two fisherman in a boat about 100 yards out turned and pointed in our direction.
"Gentlemen, we're looking for a Platypus," The Sergeant looked at each one of us and then continued, "we have reason to believe there is a Platypus in this location. Your job is to find it and wrestle it into this net." With that he proceeded to hand a weighted fishnet to Anderson.
Anderson looked at the net and said, "Sergeant, there aren't any Platypus in North Dakota."
Stein piped up and said, "Yeah, they're in Australia or something."
The Sergeant turned toward me. (Even as an Airman First Cass I knew nothing good would come from arguing with an officer or the Sergeant.) I said nothing. The Sergeant turn back to Stein and Anderson, "Well then I don't suppose it would do any good to look for it would it."
"No Sergeant," Stein and Anderson said in unison.
"Then you two can put your uniforms back on and report to Major Henderson in the parade field for a fine afternoon of marching."
Stein and Anderson looked crest fallen in the beautiful cool lake. Stein was the first to come to his senses, "Sergeant, I believe I may have been mistaken. I think I read somewhere that wild Platypus have been spotted on this very lake. And because they are not indigenous to Devils Lake they need to be captured and removed."
"Well, I'm glad to hear you have decided to rejoin our little mission. What about you Anderson."
Anderson wasn't about to claim there were Platypus in Devils Lake but he also wasn't about to pass up wading in the cool lake rather than spend the afternoon marching in the hot sun. "Sergeant, I'm already wet, and if there is a Platypus in this lake and if Maas and Stein can coral it toward me, I'll catch it in this net."
"Outstanding Gentlemen!"
Stein and I waded further in the water, not too concern about getting wet. The Sergeant and his buddies encouraged us to moved down the shoreline and into deeper water. Stein who was a couple steps in front of me stepped into a hole and disappeared. I stopped not knowing what to do. He popped up a moment later. The Sergeant was laughing, his buddies were laughing, the fishermen in the boat were laughing. Even Anderson was stifling a laugh behind me. I could only wonder if it had been me in the lead- would they have fished me out or let me drown?
I went around the hole carefully probing with my feet. As I took point, Stein and Anderson were behind me. I made my way closer to the shore, we were approaching a point where the shore jutted out with some trees and foliage. It was then I thought I heard something in the foliage. Now I didn't really believe there was a Platypus within a thousand miles of this lake, but you never know. The Sergeant told us to be careful; he seemed so sure of himself. I made the hand-sign to hold up. I worked my way into deeper water and around the point. I signaled Stein to take a position 90 degrees off mine and for Anderson to bring up the net.
The Sergeant and his buddies grew quiet. The fishermen put down their poles. The three of us got closer and closer to the source of the noise. Just as we were about to make an unbreakable chain, the Platypus jumped up and headed for Anderson. Anderson panicked and dropped the net, but his splashing scared the Platypus back in Stein's direction. This gave me enough time to grab the net and toss it over the Platypus and Stein.
Stein yelled and thrashed about, "Get it off me, get it off me! The Platypus is attacking me."
I grabbed the side of the net and pulled it tight around the Platypus and off Stein. Stein moved back and fell over into the lake. Anderson was already halfway to the shore. Sergeant was yelling, "Maas, what the hell do you have?!"
"Sergeant I have either caught the ugliest Platypus in existence or we have caught a duck." I said this my loudest military voice.
A second later I could hear the bark of laughter coming from the boat on the lake, followed by "Oh crap, the fishing poles!"
This caused the Sergeant and his buddies to roar with even more laughter. They were rolling on the beach and verbally beating each other with the punchline. Even Anderson stopped his panicked run to shore to stop, turn around, and see what evil beast he had narrowly avoided.
Of course we let the poor duck go. But I became the hero of the encampment. Every time the Sergeant told the story it became funnier and I became more important. At dinner that evening, Sergeant tapped his glass, "Gentleman, a toast to the hero of Encampment 1974, Airman First Class Maas." Two hundred cadets stood as one, gave a hurrah, swallowed down their milk, and then laughed for five straight minutes.
Where does this Story come from?
I have two nephews, aged 10 and 8. I started reading the older one stories at a very early age. One night I was babysitting and decided to tell him a bedtime story based on my own childhood. This was very popular. I've always been blessed with a vivid and creative imagination. Whenever it's bedtime and I'm over at my sister's house I hear, "Can uncle Craig make up a bedtime story for us?"
I rarely have one ready or even a topic. I asked them, "What's the story about?" and they throw out some ideas. My stories range from true but exaggerated events in my childhood, to comic farce, to Superheroes, to amalgamations of real life events and fiction. Often I take whatever topic the boys bring up and just start talking. I find the stories seem to tell themselves.
The older nephew likes stories about my life: the adventures I had with my childhood friend, and my adventures in Civil Air Patrol as a young cadet. The younger nephew likes cartoons. Recently he has become very interested in animals, marine life, and Australia. This is why he has the Platypus on his mind. As I told the story he became the Platypus I wrestled, and the story was loosely based on the classic 'Snipe Hunt'.
The Civil Air Patrol (CAP) encampment was held at Camp Grafton on the shores of Devils Lake. CAP Cadet squadrons ranged in ages from 12 to 18, at which time you would graduate to the Adult squadron. Our role was to prepare for the military and also do Search and Rescue missions (S&R) for missing air craft. During summer encampment all the CAP squadrons around the state would arrive at Camp Grafton where we would: March, Study, March, Play War Games, March, Work Kitchen Patrol (KP), March, Awake in the middle of the night for Fire Watch, March, and go on short field trips to the Grand Forks Air Force Base. Oh yes, did I tell you we did a lot of marching? The Fargo Squadron was the largest, most active, and craziest CAP Squadron in the state- and from what I read in the national newsletter- the country.
Postscript
I started this story a couple days after I made it up. I only got a few paragraphs done of the story and the background information and then it sat for month. Too long for me to really finish the story as it was told. I'll have to tell a slightly different story.
I also was looking at my Journal Addendum and found some CAP info including some names. Our Cadet Commander was Lt. Col. Kelly A. Vorachek.There was another Lt. Col. who was crazy (in a funny way) he was the leader of the maroon berets. I was awarded a 'CAP new member for 1973' on 2-25-1974. I think I quit right after 1975 CAP encampment or the Fall of 1975 after the Bismarck S&R mission. Some interesting names that appear in my CAP newsletter: Mark & Paul Finstad, Kevin Fitzgerald, Joe McPherson, Scott Brottlund, Chris Koesterman, Debbi Hinton, Max Roesler. Max was a little kid (when I read about Ortner abusing some small kid in CAP this is who I think of.) Joe was like a Sergeant, as was Kevin but I get the feeling Kevin started later than me and raced past me. I left with 4 or 5 stripes but was never too interested in getting ahead, just getting out.
