We had the advantage. We were faster than they were, and we knew the terrain better than they did.
Often we had a plan, though usually the plan was to sit on the wall of the graveyard across the road from the Teen Club, and when we saw the distinct shape of MP headlights, we’d jump over the wall and haul ass into the cemetery as if we had been engaging in some sort of bad behavior.
That always worked.
Other times we were not looking to scare up a chase, and actually were involved in some sort of bad behavior, and they’d suddenly appear. Bad behavior is distracting; it can be very easy to let your guard down.
Those were the times when you actually might get nabbed.
I got nabbed more than once, but not a lot. The most memorable incident that resulted in getting caught happened at Delafield, as did many memorable events.
A good sized crowd had descended upon our favorite nocturnal destination of a summer evening. Delafield, for those who don’t know, is a swimming area located in a somewhat isolated (much more so back then) wooded area just below Fort Putnam, and just above the residence of Tony Alva and Mathdude. After hours, our favorite time for a swim, you had to clamber around the side of the building that housed the changing rooms on a narrow path between the wall and a steep drop into the woods. Once past the building, one could jump up on a small wall and hop the fence.
As I said, there was a fair amount of people there that night, too many. I guess we got loud.
Some folks were swimming, other chatting, I’m sure there must have been other activities going on.
I was on the 36 with Hutch talking about Motorhead when the MPs showed up.
The 36, for those same people who don’t know, is a 36 foot diving platform. Diving off the 36 was a rite of passage for a teen-age male at West Point. Diving off the 36 at night put you into a select club. Hutch and I were shooting the shit about Philthy Animal Taylor or some shit, when BAM, the spotlight was upon us.
Did I mention we were naked?
Night swimming was clothing optional. I always enjoyed the no clothing option. It was dark, no big deal; that is until the MPs threw that spotlight on us.
We were nabbed. Nabbed naked.
Now, Hutch and I kinda figured that what would work best was that we dive off, swim ashore, and give ourselves up. They had us; we knew it, game over.
Well, the MPs didn’t like our idea. What they wanted was to have us climb back down the ladder, naked, with their damned spotlight on our asses.
And that, dear readers, is what happened.
After that is was simply a matter of getting back into our clothes and getting a ride home in the back of a MP car complete with a waking up of the parents to let them know what bad boys we were.