Post #14-Personal Narrative
A Strategic Advantage in All But
the Buddy System
I was perched on top of a dirt hill,
unsure of what to do next. My fellow ward member, Aaronic Priesthood holder,
and buddy, Brandon Anderson, was down the hill from me. A horde of angry boys
from the other troop were trying to find us to give us a piece of their mind. I
had earlier suggested to Brandon that we make our way down the hill to our camp
farther north, but as he made his way down the hill, I saw the cluster of angry
flashlight beams advancing across the sparse desert vegetation towards us. I
scampered back up the hill, fearing the probable swear words that would be
thrust at me and Brandon once this angry troop found us. However, Brandon was
still down the hill from me, and too far away to quickly escape. I called to
him, “Brandon, I'm going to head back to camp. I'll come back.”
As I left, I felt a pang of guilt
for ditching my buddy, Brandon. But in the light of the situation, I didn't
want to be chewed out by a bunch of lunatics that accused my troop of “throwing
rocks” at their tents. I looked down at their camp, nestled in between two dirt
slopes that sent small avalanches of dirt down towards the tents whenever
someone walked up or down the slopes. The avalanches probably caused the other
troop to believe that we were actually pelting rocks at their tents. I thought,
What were they thinking, pitching their tents in such a valley? Earlier,
Brandon and I decided to “slide” down to their camp, sending small avalanches
of dirt towards their camp. Other members of my troop had been throwing
glow-sticks across the area, possibly hitting their tents, but they weren't
chucking rocks everywhere.
I walked towards the eastern
mountain, away from the other troop's camp, away from their angry flashlights,
and away from the route between their camp and their angry crowd. The moon was
rising slowly over the eastern hills that I was walking towards, casting a
beautiful pale light over the desert landscape north of Goblin Valley State
Park. I felt a sense of peace moving away from the angry turbulence that
existed behind me, but I also felt a growing sense of apprehension. What if
the other troop finds me and chews me out? I thought.
I slid my way down into a little
wash in between the hill I was on and the main mountain, relieved that the area
was deserted. I sneaked past the dark trailer where an older couple was asleep,
and stole my way to camp without the detection of the other troop. But as I
neared camp, I was worried about the Scoutmaster's potential reaction to
Brandon's absence.
My fear was confirmed when Brother
Meyer, the Scoutmaster, asked me, “Nate, where's Brandon?”
Worried about the reprieve that I
would receive, I timidly said, “Over on that hill over there,” pointing to the
hill that I came from, hanging my head with shame. At the time, I was a priest
in the Aaronic Priesthood, and I was invited on this campout, along with other
older boys, to act as leaders for the deacons. I realized that I had not only
been a poor leader, but also a poor Boy Scout in disobeying the Buddy System.
“Why did you leave Brandon over
there?” Brother Meyer asked.
“It was a strategic advantage,” I
said, wanting to provide the truth in a concise way.
“How was leaving Brandon a
'strategic advantage?'” Brother Meyer asked, curious as to what strategy would
justify me ditching my buddy.
“I left Brandon because we were on
top of the hill, Brandon being farther down than me. I realized that Brandon
wouldn't be able to come to the top of the hill in time before the other troop
came and found us, so I told him that I would leave and I left. The other troop
was mad because they accused us of throwing rocks at their tents,” I explained.
“Okay, well we'll go and find
Brandon,” said Brother Meyer.
As soon as we turned around to look
towards the hill, the scout leaders from the other troop arrived and discussed
with our leaders about what happened. The other boys from my troop came back
with Brandon. After sulking in my tent for a couple of minutes, I went out by
the central part of our camp to talk to Brandon about his adventure after my
departure.
“Did they swear at you?” I asked
Brandon.
“Yes,” said Brandon, “It was
horrible.”
“That really stinks,” I said, “I am
sorry that I ditched you back there on the hill.”
“It's okay,” said Brandon, “It
wasn't too bad.”
I went into my tent that night very
disappointed that I was a bad example to a younger Boy Scout and that I lost
the confidence that Brother Meyer had in me. I was determined to do better in
the future.
The next morning dawned clear but
cold. We ate breakfast and headed over to Little Wild Horse Canyon, an
eight-mile hike featuring two slot canyons. As we hiked down the second slot
canyon back towards the parking lot, Brandon wanted to go ahead of the rest of
the group. Wishing to redeem myself of my embarrassing mistake the previous
night, I went with him, partly because I wanted to go ahead as well.
After me and Brandon finished the
hike, and after everyone else caught up to us, Brother Meyer said to me “Thank
you for staying with Brandon on the hike.”
“You're welcome,” I said, grateful
that I had partially made up for my mistake the previous night.
Six months later, I went with the
deacons on a campout to Little Sahara Recreation Area. It was a cold, peaceful,
moonlit night on the sand dunes, and I ran down the steep sand slope, unaware
of that my flashlight/laser fell out of my pocket and rolled down the dune. As
I was walking with my buddy, I realized that my awesome flashlight was absent.
“Hey Chris, I think I lost my
flashlight back at the dunes. Could you go with me to find it?” I asked,
hopeful that Chris would say yes.
“It's gone,” Chris said.
“I bet I know where it is,” I said.
“It's probably gone,” Chris
repeated.
“Can you please come with me? I'll
grab a flashlight at camp and I'll look for it.” I said.
“Okay,” Chris agreed.
After I grabbed my 6-cell flashlight
out of my tent, we went out to the dunes to reclaim my lost flashlight. I was
relieved when I found it at the base of the steep dune I ran down.
“Thank
you for going with me, Chris,” I said as we walked back to camp.
