fish Day

At our 30th reunion, as we had at every other reunion, the attending members of Heaven's Eleven '72, and their wives and guests, gathered Saturday night in the hotel room of one of our "buds". That night, in Jack and Margaret's room at the Hilton, we saw movies and snapshots of our time at A&M, caught up on each others' lives, and relived our college experiences. To provoke some non-X-rated discussion, T.E. asked a leading question: "What was the most important thing that you learned in the Corps at A&M?" Some said, "leadership;" others said, "self-confidence;" someone said, "discipline;" and another said, "that I could do more than I thought I could." When it was my turn, I said, "There is no game if I choose not to play." That answer appeared to surprise and/or confuse the group. But behind my answer lay the experience of fish day.

A freshman in the Corps of Cadets at Texas A&M University is governed by a bewildering set of rules, traditions, and expectations. It is the job of the upper classmen to turn a random bunch of "high school hairys" into a cohesive class of Aggies. That job takes the better part of two semesters. By the end of March, the fish have learned almost everything they need to know about being a CT Ag in their next three years, and are starting to look forward to passing on that knowledge to the next year's fish class. In the Corps, there is almost always an opportunity to demonstrate that some lesson has been learned. So it was natural that there would be a period set aside to assess the fish class's readiness to be pissheads - it was called fish day.

The fish were told that from first call to call-to-quarters on an upcoming day, they were going to switch roles with the pissheads. Imagine the gleeful anticipation in every fish hole, as the occupants contemplated how they would "out-pisshead" the pissheads; how they would get some measure of revenge for the way the pissheads had treated them for some eight months. The fact that the day chosen for the role reversal was April 1st probably didn't register in their fish brains.

As the time came for the whistle jock to start his rounds on fish day, the first inkling appeared that something wasn't as it should be - all was quiet. A couple of the "fish-heads", sensing an opportunity to apply correction, headed for the room of the pisshead who had been designated as the day's whistle jock. What they found was two bag-rats, and all efforts to rouse them failed. Unfortunately, a couple of juniors appeared (another indication of something amiss - you usually didn't see *one* of our juniors in the hall until milliseconds before the required formation time, much less two of them), and started chiding the fish-heads for failure to sufficiently motivate the pisshead whistle-jock to perform his assigned duty. The day went downhill from there.

It took Herculean effort for the fish-heads to get all the pissheads out of their rooms and into close proximity to the wall. Some of the fish-heads who violently entered pisshead rooms to retrieve them, were greeted with shaving cream or trash cans full of water. What the fish-heads found, when the pissheads finally moseyed out into the hall, however, was the most eclectic combination of uniforms, civvies, PT gear, and random material used as clothing that they had ever seen. The only pisshead that had an appropriate, full uniform, had it on exactly backwards. In response to fish-head attempts at campusology examinations, the pissheads either went mute, gave random responses, or pretended to understand and speak a language not common to this planet. In short, they refused to "play the game", and no amount of yelling of commands by the fish-heads could get them to cooperate. To make matters worse, the juniors and seniors continued berating the fish-heads for their failure to control their charges. A day that the fish had eagerly looked forward to, had degenerated into one of the most frustrating experiences in their lives.

Usually, fish try to spend as little time in the dorm as possible. The more time a fish is in the dorm, the higher the likelihood that he will have an unpleasant encounter with an upper classman. On fish day, however, the fish-heads quickly determined that, although they were considered upper classmen, their wisest choice was still to avoid the dorm because the pissheads, through their steadfast refusal to "play the game", made the situation unbearable. The social institution known as the Texas A&M Corps of Cadets obviously depended on the willingness of the cadets to conform to its rules, traditions, and expectations (known as "playing the game"). When a significant number of the cadets were no longer willing to do so, that institution became non-functional.

That's when it dawned on me - the lesson of fish day was a universal truth. There is no game if I choose not to play. The difference between civilization and anarchy, between progress and stagnation, is the willingness of the vast majority of human beings to comply with the rules, traditions, and expectations of that civilization. A corollary is the adage, "It takes two to have an argument."

I don't even remember fish day of our pisshead year. I do know that the tradition was still active eighteen years later, when my brother was a BQ fish - he still hasn't forgiven me for not telling him what to expect. I also know that during the four years that my son, Thomas, recently spent in the Corps at A&M, no cadet I asked knew anything about fish day.

The most important thing I learned there is no longer being taught.

John (Yankus) Yantis