Quadding

When you pack 2,000 guys into 12 dorms, and keep them in close proximity 24 hours a day for five to seven days a week, then mix in stressors like being away from home (and women), having to do well in classes, and the rigors of the Cadet Corps, tensions build up quickly. Fortunately, the traditions of the Corps provided lots of ways to relieve the stress before physical violence broke out - water fights, fart-offs, babo-bombs, Pearl Harbor Day, food fights, etc.

Quadding was a white-belt privilege, because it involved using fish as a weapon, usually of retribution, and only Sergebutts and Zips could send fish on a detail. The rule was that you only sent someone from your own class to the quad. Rarely, a Sergebutt would send a Zip to the quad - but I never heard of a Zip sending a Sergebutt. Aggie culture dictated that you messed with the class above you, not the one(s) below.

In general, a white-belt, pissed at one of his classmates (or in commemoration of some "special" occasion), would tell a fish in his outfit, "Take Mr. Jones to the quad tomorrow." Of course, if you told one fish something, it was supposed to be equivalent to telling the outfit's entire fish class. So, an hour or so before first call, the fish would start preparing by filling one or more of the 30-gallon rubber trashcans with water from the showers - and the colder, the better. The trashcan was stationed at the window of the dorm stairwell, preferably on the top floor. Next, the fish would burst into the victim's room, and do whatever it took to subdue him and haul him into the quad. The response of the victim spanned the spectrum from extreme pugnaciousness to continued sleep.

When the victim reached the area just outside the doorway, the fish tied him down, spread-eagled face up on the concrete (the benches on either side of the walkway provided convenient anchorages for the restraints). Then a couple of fish dumped the water out the window onto the victim. Finally, the fish removed the restraints, released the victim, and then hustled back to their holes to prepare for morning formation. A standard order to the fish was to keep the sender anonymous by answering any queries from the victim with "Mr. Claus, Sir" (meaning Santa Claus, since Saint Nick hadn't dropped handles with the fish.)

That was the most basic form, the one most practiced, and the one that probably named the practice, "quadding". As befits college students, there were as many variations on the theme as there were Aggies in the Corps. The number of trash cans of water dumped on the victim was certainly variable. Another variation was practiced in the winter, when the fish were directed to fill one or more of the trash cans the night before, and to leave them exposed to the cold outside air all night, guaranteeing a super-cold drenching for the victim. And yellow food coloring in the water sometimes gave the impression that it was some other type of liquid.

Another variation involved the fish creating a "groad hole", which was basically a mud pit in the ground somewhere close to the dorm. Instead of being drenched with water from on high, the victim was unceremoniously thrown into the mud pit, or, in the case of Air Force outfits, launched face-down in imitation of an aircraft landing on a dirt field. Cadets with Navy or Marine contracts similarly got to experience "carrier landings." Groad holes were especially frowned upon by the authorities, since they involved making a huge, unsightly mess.

Sometimes water wasn't involved at all - the fish could be directed to deposit the victim in the nearest dumpster, or to tie or chain him to a quad structure, such as the bugle stand or a prominent tree, and leave him there. Many a morning formation was delayed while a quadding victim, usually in his skivvies, and occasionally completely naked, was removed from public view by a sympathetic classmate or a staff rat. Sometimes it took bolt cutters…

Every now and then the fish were told to take the victim to some remote location. Early morning drivers in Brazos County usually weren't surprised by a naked or semi-naked Aggie needing a ride back to campus. The National Guard Armory in a neighboring town was a frequent "quadding" location, since they had a WWII artillery piece out front, to which the victim could be chained, with a prominent anatomical feature inserted down the barrel.

The most creative quadding I experienced was our Zip year, at the direction of Nebbitt. He called it "the ice-cream sundae". The fish grabbed me, stuffed me into a mattress bag, tied a rope to the top of the bag, and ran the rope over the limb of one of the quad's trees. I was hoisted into the air, and a 30-gallon trash can filled with ice water and rock salt was positioned under me. The fish proceeded to dunk me into the ice water, then pull me up to get the benefit of the morning breeze. This was repeated several times. Mercifully, they didn't leave me hanging in the tree. I lived.

Quadding was the kind of thing that could get out of hand very quickly, since one good quadding often deserved another in retaliation. It had the potential for physical injury and humiliation. It's no surprise that today's Corps Standard prohibits quadding in any form.

See also the memory about the All American Quad Squad.

John (Yankus) Yantis