The late Walt Crandall relayed a story to me a few years ago about one of his many antics during his stay at KMI ( a rather short stay...about 1 1/2 years before ejection). One Saturday morning after inspection in the fall of 1968, Walt decided to get creative with a couple of coat hangers and some plastic wrap from the dry cleaners. Chemistry teacher Captain Wild Bill Messer would have been proud of Walt's efforts to make a hot-air balloon. Add a couple of candles, some duct tape, and a flame, and Walt had built a contraption that actually took off.....................and soared all the way over to the orphanage before landing on the roof and catching it on fire. Walt was so funny. He came to a reunion of the younger classes in Louisville in 1998. Seeing Grip at the cocktail party, he walked right up to him, stuck out his hand, and said, "The last time we shook hands, you were showing me the door!".

The 1964-68 years were famous for "Top 40" hits being played over the loudspeakers via the Guardhouse at 2:00 A.M. The night watchman, Jesse, obviously never figured out that he needed to lock the windows to the Guardhouse as well as the door before embarking on his bed-check. If one were to create a "Top Ten" list of favorite songs that were blasted across campus in the middle of the night, the Number One tune of All Time was "Hang On Sloopy". Approaching vacation and break periods, "We Gotta Get Out Of This Place" was played more often but still came in a distant second. Everyone else's songs were "also-rans" in overall popularity.

I had a particularly obnoxious favorite song. I used to drive my mother NUTS with it.........wait a minute.......that might have been one of the reasons I wound up at KMI. " A wella everybody's heard about the Bird.......Bird Bird Bird...Bi Bird's The Word". It was The Surfin Bird by the Trashmen. How I longed to sneak down to the Guardhouse and slip it on the record player. Remember the "Bridge" to the song that was all noise and sound effects? A Pa Pa Ooh Mow Mow. I had one insurmountable problem. You see...I used to drive my cadet buddies nuts singing that song all over the place too. I really had those sound effects down! So......it would have been impossible for me to sneak it into the Guardhouse without the entire school knowing who put it there. Busted every time! What's worse? No one else ever did it in MY honor!!!! I would have been blamed for it in a heartbeat.

My name is David Sorokoty and went to and graduated KMI from the years of 69-72. What great years!

One night in the fall of 1971 myself and two other cadets thought we would visit some girls that we knew and also attended Kentucky Academy. I will with hold their last names, but love them dearly, Chris, Shelly and Phyllis.

As you know, as cadets we were allowed only to go into Lyndon on Wednesday afternoons and Louisville on Saturday. Just not enough time for young men of our times. On a certain Wednesday afternoon we met up with these lovely ladies in Lyndon and had a great time as usual. But as always time went by too fast and we all designed a plan to go AWOL that evening. Of course at the conception, a full proof plan at that!

So we decided to meet at the gates at 11 pm after Douglas (the night watchman) made his rounds. Understand of course our soul intent was to get together with these straight "A" ladies and study for Major Hewe's French test coming up the next day. Oh, and of course to share in a soda or to and be cordial as always. So the three of us, Tom, Stanley and myself embarked on our well planned escapade at 10:55 by sneaking out of "B" barracks and following the tree line behind the campus out to the front gate. Perfectly as planned the girls were there waiting and picked us up to take us in to Anchorage just a few miles East of Lyndon. We decided to go to a McDonald's and get a few sodas and then go park somewhere to "study" for our test. After about two hours of stimulating conversation with the girls and satisfied we knew all the French we needed to know for our test we headed back to campus. By the way studying hard for the test sure did get the windows steamy! Be it may, back to KMI and the front gate.

We said our good bys and headed back along the tree stand to "B" barracks. Here's were the plan was full proof until one little incident. With all three of us living on the first stoop it was so simple. Jump in the window of the bathroom (as you know located in the middle of the stoop) and walk out of the bathroom one by one like we had just been using the wonderful facilities provided us. Stanley went first, up in the window and in the bathroom. I went second and squeezed in to the window down on the floor of the bathroom. Stanley exited the bathroom and off to his room he went. What a genius plan I must admit. Well almost. Lastly came Tom, a bit of a bigger guy than Stanley and I, struggled fitting himself in through the bathroom window. In fact I had to help him in this endeavor. Got half of ole Tom in and as Stanley and I did previously, he had to step on the edge of the urinal trough. When he stepped on the trough full body weight, the unfor seen, unplanned event happened. See Tom being a "little" heavier than us, broke the urinal off the wall. Well, you might have thought you were at Niagara Falls! Water came shooting out of the 4" pipe at such a pace, it went out the bathroom door that Stanley had left open. Not only was the bathroom and outside stoop getting flooded but the noise of all that porcelain made when it fell and broke woke everybody up in the surrounding area and soon gained the attention of Douglas. The nightwatchman came running in and asked what happened. Needless to say, he said he had to put us on report....busted, sargent to private.

The next day Tom and I got our 100 hours and Stanley, well lucky as ever never got caught or ratted on by us. Then as you know we had to face cigar chewer Sgt Drury. He became our best friend ( God rest his soul) for a hundred hours or so. Moral of the story, when you go AWOL make sure everyone is under 150lbs.

A time tested prank, yet unique in every way each time it was performed. Remember how we all used to awake, eat, sleep, march and study by the bugle calls? The bugle calls as you all know came from the guard shack played on a phonograph. Never will I forget those scratchy sounds that played. This night of course poor old Douglas the night watchman was on his rounds and safely secured inside Gregg Hall we ran out out to the guard shack. Amped up the phonograph as loud as it could go, took the microphone and put a rubber band on it so it was open and next to the phonograph, we played one of our favorites. At 1am in the morning, all through campus and surrounding areas of Lyndon "Whole Lotta Love" by Led Zeppelin was sounded through the airwaves. It was a rock'n time! Never was caught, though sweatted out many formations of superiors asking who did it. Also with the pronouncement that if caught they we would serve a lot of hours on the beat. Even till this day, I feel the need to stand at attention when I hear "Whole Lotta Love" played!

Boom! To Bust

A true story as narrated by Gerry Brinker, Kentucky Military Institute Class of ‘59
Copyright © 2008 by Gerald Brinker All rights reserved.
Pictures by Gerry Brinker

Place: Kentucky Military Institute, Lyndon, Ky. Campus.
Quarters: Somewhere in “A” Barracks, second Stoop.
Timeline: Late November 1958, 0230 hrs.

It was eerily quiet. Even though most of the Battalion was fast-asleep, there was not a sound. And it was cold! It was so cold even the night-birds were shivering in their nests, he thought. Often he would arise at the call of Reveille , or be awakened by the clank of the steam rising in the registers just before Reveille, to find his fresh oranges, arranged neatly arow on his desk, frozen solid. The open-window rule for the Kentucky campus also meant that the transom must be ajar as well, so that air would circulate. The Cadets knew the real reason for the rule was to save on the heating bill, but whatever the case, it made for some very uncomfortable sleeping. And if he needed to relieve himself during the night, or get a shower before the supply of hot water was exhausted, he would have to make his way outside the room into that cold, cold night to find the John!

Major “Black Bart” Williams had made his night- rounds and the coast was clear. Peeking over the transom, the Cadet could see someone seated in the Guard House but there was no movement inside and that put him at ease a bit. He stepped down from the chair he used for his surveillance and quietly slid it back under his desk. Without a light, he stuck his hand under the mattress of his bunk and found it. The device, as he called it, was small and easily hidden. In the darkness, he examined it by touch and knew that everything was in order. “This will knock their socks off!”, he thought.

Christmas break was near at hand but there were few ways for a Cadet to vent his boyish exuberance during those dark, colorless days of early winter. He wondered how he might raise some Hell creatively; not just to have some fun, but to do something that had never been done in the history of KMI. It would take something spectacular to qualify as “daring-do” in a place of such storied deeds; yet, he must not be discovered in the act itself. If successful in his mission, the Corp must never know the identity of the perpetrator since it would satisfy him simply to know that he had done it. He would accomplish his prank alone, avoiding the risk of compromising another Cadet’s honor.

He prepared well for the task. He had a key to the Chemistry Laboratory, given to him by Captain F. E. Kern, ostensibly for the purpose of using the Lab without the usual time constraints, which could sometimes ruin an experiment. He carefully measured the prescribed amounts of Potassium Nitrate and Sulphur, slowly ground two charcoal briquettes into fine powder with a pestle and mortar, and mixed the three ingredients on a piece of wax paper. There it was! He had made enough gunpowder to fill the empty M-1 rifle shell that he had brought with him. He then punched the primer out of the spent shell leaving a hole for a fuse. Next, he got a small crucible, held it with tongs, pulled the rubber hose from a Bunsen burner, turned on the gas valve, lit the gas with a lighter, and melted a small amount of lead in the crucible. While the lead was still molten, he inserted the open, slug-end of the shell into the crucible and waited for the lead to harden. After cooling the shell, he filled it with his freshly-made gunpowder and inserted a four-inch piece of dynamite fuse, given to him by a fellow Cadet.[1] As luck would have it, the fuse fit so tightly into the primer hole, that the entire device was water-tight. As he snuck out of the Lab and made his way to his barracks, he felt satisfied that he had been undetected and that the device would prove to be an outstanding vehicle for some much-needed Hell Raising!

Now the time had come. He knelt on the floor and quietly turned the doorknob. Still kneeling inside the room, he looked to his immediate left and right, then straight ahead at the Guard House which was located two floors below and about 20 yards in the distance. With no one in sight, he crawled to his right for about 10 yards and opened the door that led to the sinks [2]. Inside, it was bright with light! His night-vision was immediately compromised but it was too late to turn back. He had calculated that the device would explode somewhere between A Barracks and the Guard House; or between A and B Barracks; nonetheless, it would go off somewhere underground after he flushed it down the John.

He lit the fuse, dropped the bomb into the toilette, flushed and ran for the door . Crawling back to his room as though he was being chased by the Devil himself, he hurriedly closed the door and sprang into his bunk. “No one caught me!”, he exclaimed to himself. Then, he wondered if the device would actually work. One minute went by without a sound. He imagined the device making its way down the drain into the courtyard , finding its moment of inertia, and erupting with a muffled “Whump!”. “How long does a four-inch fuse take?”, he wondered.

The immensity of the sound defies description! The force of the blast was so great that the entire Barracks shook. “What the Hell happened?”, he thought. It sounded as if the sinks had been obliterated! He heard shouting and people running on the stoop. In short order, the entire Battalion was awake and heading for the smoke-filled A Barracks.

He had miscalculated the laws of physics! The weight of the shell was so great that it simply set on the bottom of the flushed commode and never moved- it simply set there, fuse burning -until finally detonating. And since it was under water, the concussive force magnified the explosive power of the small amount of gunpowder by a factor of 100.

He wanted to seem uninvolved so he waited for everyone else to arrive at the scene before joining the investigation at the sinks. Smoke was still billowing from the door. The acrid smell of burnt powder filled the air. When he looked into the room, the toilette was blown into little pieces!

Later the same morning, he realized that his little prank had escalated into a significant incident: one with very serious consequences. “How long will it be before they question me?” he wondered. “What is the penalty for destroying property besides expulsion? Would the destruction of property be deemed a misdemeanor or felony? Would restitution be sufficient in the eyes of a criminal court? Would KMI call the local authorities to investigate? “

It did not matter. The Cadet was never questioned about any of it nor did he turn himself in. I personally knew him and can tell you that if he had been asked a direct question about the incident, he would have answered, “Yes, Sir, I am the one!” He would have taken his punishment and gone on. That is how things were resolved at KMI.

[1] He worked for his father’s construction company and had access to such things.
[2] “Sinks” was a term used to describe the common area used for toilet and shower purposes.

Note from the author:

Thank you Major Williams, now in your eternal home, for you knew the identity of the perpetrator but you kept silent. Nothing ever eluded you at KMI. You seemed so stern to some; and yet, you were manifestly “father” to many of us Cadets. It would not surprise this writer if you actually admired the audacity of the Cadet who did the deed. Rest easy now, Sir. We appreciated you guidance and candor!

Permission granted by the author for use by the KMI Alumni Association, to reproduce this story and photograph on its website only. Any other reproduction is strictly forbidden.

1970

Once while in Venice my roommate, Dan Ward and I envisioned a great plan. We decided it would be a good idea to make some homemade wine. So we bought the ingredients, grape juice, sugar, and yeast. Then we carefully and lovingly gently stirred them together and poured the prospective liquid back into the grape juice jars. Now the questions beckoned... how to store them and where would they not be found! Nothing like planning ahead huh? Our combined genius decided that we should put the bottles in a suit case and hide it under a bed. Our brilliance was affirmed when the next day all was good and well. I believe it was the second day when we returned from drill that we discovered that the pressure inside the bottles became such that it caused the bottles to explode. The suit case was ruined and since it was porous the contents leaked all over the floor under the bed. The smell was horrendous and lasted for a very long time. We both got stuck with many demerits and walked for hours around that sand circle in the back of San Marco. Things might have turned out differently if we had the foresight to vent the bottles with a few holes. This was my first and last time making wine! Cheers!

Jim Vest

KMI 1972x

Two pranks: 100 hours on the Beat and "Honor Among Thieves"

Within a few weeks of arriving at KMI for my first and junior high school year, I had earned one hundred hours on the Beat. Did anyone else ever get 100 hours, for a single incident, I would really like to know if that was or is some kind of KMI record? Furthermore, the incident was self-reported! Here is what happened.

My home football team on which I had played during my sophomore year, was playing St. Xavier, the Louisville football power house (that our KMI team also played, me as a member my senior year). My hometeam was a little Catholic school from Lebanon, Kentucky, St. Augustine’s, and I figured a way to see the game in Louisville, back when hitch-hiking was still a very viable adventure for a young man. I hitch-hiked to the Louisville game during study hall one Friday evening and planned to get back before Taps. I was standing on the sidelines cheering my team on when a Referee Shirt walked up and tapped me on the shoulder and said, "Baute, what are you doing here?" It was Captain Eddie Weber, KMI basketball coach, later first basketball coach and Athletic Director at Bellarmine College in Louisville. I was wearing my KMI rain jacket assuming no one from KMI would be there.

Needless to say, that took the heart out of the game for me, and with a few minutes I was hitch-hiking back to Lyndon and the campus, full of foreboding, gloom and doom, as to the ruin of my new military cadet career. I decided on the long return to be up-front and simply report myself (and maybe honesty would count for something) so I went immediately to the guard house where Taps and lights out was just being announced. "Cadet Baute reporting himself A.W.O.L." I said. I was twice chased from the guardhouse before they learned I was sincere and dutifully wrote me up as A.W.O.L. Did I tell you that this was during a polio quarantene of the campus, so I needed to be made a lesson of, and therefore, was given 100 hours on the beat. Took me all Fall to work off the hours, one by one, two per weekday and six or seven on Mondays. When I got to 92 completed, the rest were dismissed. Capt Weber later told me, "Baute, why did you turn yourself in, we could have worked out something."

Actually, that was the beginning of my interest in philosophy as I had plenty of time to meditate on not only the consequences of my behavior but also on axioms of life. "Anything bad CAN have a possible blessing," I decided, tho I was far from sure whatever it was. I decided there were two great axioms of life: "Anything worth doing was worth doing well," and "Anything worth doing was worth doing badly." My momma being a charge nurse and somewhat of a perfectionist had drilled me well in the first, so I decided the first part of my life would have to be the first, but the second part of my life, after I had "achieved perfection," would be the latter. I could mess up royally, but first I would show "well done."

After many years given to moral perfection as a Benedictine monk, I decided, in mid-life, it was now okay to mess up some. If it was worth doing, it was worth doing for the doing of it, for the process itself, not merely the produce, to be enjoyed along the journey and not simply the end product. I found the courage to leave the vowed monastic life and the canonical status of Roman Catholic priest, at age 39, to explore my own spiritual journey on my own terms, still to discover "who I was," the great midlife dark place that Dante talks about. It was a wrenching decision for this devout monk, but one that has brought me untold blessings, three children and three grandchildren among the greatest.

100 hours on the Beat for a single incident must be some kind of record? Can anyone beat that?

(Paschal) Bernard Baute, KMI, class of 1947.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
1960

100 hours on the "Beat" was not a record but more of a standard sentence for any serious infraction that could have gotten you kicked out. Matter of fact, I was awarded 100 hours during my first month at KMI for drinking in the barracks!! My roommate at the time was a real malcontent who did not want to be at KMI. He was one of those cadets who was "sentenced" to our school instead of a real jail! He brought some beer to the room one Saturday evening down in Venice and offered one to me. Our other roommate decided to leave and not witness any breaking of one of Col. Richmond's major rules. Later that evening, our malcontent roommate was caught and turned in to "White Daddy", who, in turn, had me brought down to his office for interrogation. The malcontent roommate had "ratted" me out to Col Hodgins. No one but my malcontent roommate had witnessed my drinking, so it was his word against mine. I could have denied it but I took full responsibility for my actions and confessed. "Stupid", I know, but I think the 100 hours was, sort of, a blessing. Being a new "BULL" rat at KMI, I was immediately accepted as "one of the boys" who could take it! Another part to this story that was never discovered by the administration: "The Spirit of 60" was the motto of the corps that year and the Battalion Commander was not going to let a major scandal like drinking in the barracks destroy his legacy. So, he and his roommate(the lookout) came down to my room and proceeded to beat the crap out of the malcontent roommate. No blows to the face but plenty of them to the rest of him using a very large phone book so as not to leave fist impressions on his burused boddy. The next day the malcontent roommate was on a bus back to West Virginia and nothing more was ever said about what took place that night in my room between the Battalion Commander and my roommate.

Jim

Jim Flora
KMI class of '62

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

"Honor Among Cadet -Thieves"

Also in Florida in 1947 I got in big trouble with the Administration. "The Major," with his shock of white hair looking like Moses himself, had me in his office, toe to toe, a number of times to wean out of me the truth, but I refused to squeal on my buddies, and insisted manfully (I supposed) to take the full brunt of whatever discipline would be imposed, which turned out as I remember, another twenty or more hours on the Beat in Florida during my senior year.

We had radios in our rooms and the rule was no radios after lights out. I set mine near my pillow with the music turned down so low that only my ears could pick it up as I went to sleep. No big deal, right? I mean the radio was very low, and no one could hear it but me. It was a nice way to go to sleep, and still prefer this way 58 years later.

Well one morning when I woke up the radio was turned OFF. After checking with my roommate, John (Jack) Nichols (we took flying lessons together at the local airport and he later became an Air Force pilot and created some kind of award for KMI cadets, but I gave it up when the smart ass instructor decided to show me belly rolls and loops de loop one morning and I puked over everything, and trying to get the puke out of the cockpit only got it all over my clothing as the wind blew it back in) that he did not turn it off, I figured I might be "In Trouble." I had a friend doing Guard Duty that day, and discovered through him that yes, I had been written up for "Playing radio after Taps" by a faculty person whom I did not particularly like. My friend on guard duty was willing to pull the report for me and deep - six it so it simply did not appear on the list of infractions the following day. The problem was that the reporting faculty member checked the reports and it was discovered as missing, so the Admin knew that someone on guard duty had pulled the report. Terrible scandal, one of the guard detail being "dishonorable," enough to cheat for a fellow cadet.

Huge inspection ensued, each being put on the hot seat, resulted in nada, nothing, no one would reveal anything, so the Officer of the Guard was going to be busted for the incident. Major Hodgins had me in his office several times to try to intimidate me to get the name of the guard duty cadet who had done me the favor. "Baute, I am going to give you ONE MORE CHANCE!" I refused repeatedly, saying only and repeatedly, "I take full responsibility, sir!" The cadet who had been Officer of the Day came to me personally, upon the advice of Capt Weber to beg me to reveal the cadet inside the guard house who had pulled the report. I remember his plea that he would lose his sword that he hoped to hang over the mantle to cross with that of his father’s, also a KMI graduate as an officer. No way, Jose, I would not save his "honor" by squealing on my friend.

I got another twenty or thirty hours on the beat in the Florida Sun, but remember being occasionally excused for rifle practice as I was also on Sgt Ghee’s rifle team. I do not think the officer was busted since they found out he was not at fault. I would be honest about my own faults. But there had to be real honor among cadet friends, I was absolutely sure. I do not remember names of any cadets involved. Roommate Nichols was a sophomore at the time and I would love to hear from him or any others who were involved.

While no one painted Col. Richmond's cannon white, during my two years at KMI, there were many complaints one morning from the residents of Venice about a mob of cadets, after a midnight swim, chanting during a jog back from the beech in Florida.

I didn't get invited, so I have always wondered who participated? You certainly couldn't brag about it then, how about now! The good news is that a classmate of '63 has admitted participation in the midnight swim and can name a few. The bad news is that he will tell all at the next reunion.

Who put Capt. Yandell H. Martin MGA sports car sports car sideways in the San Marco Building hallway?

Cadets would buy a record with the "Marine Hymn" and sneak out in the middle of the night to the guard shack, put the record on the turn table, switch on the amplifier, and make a mad dash, back to their room, before the amplifier warmed up. Even thought I have heard the story a dozen times from Major Hewes's digital streaming on this site, I can't remember the name of the military personnel that hated the "Marine Hymn" and would run down and "break that record with passion!"

The first night in Florida before inspections would reveal the culprits, firecrackers would be thrown in the halls of the San Marco Building. So after the first cadets got caught, a smart cadet would attach firecrackers to roller skates and shove them down the halls.

Thus a separating wall was built to divide the full length hall in the San Marco Building. What year was this wall built?

At least once each year, I was there from 61 to 63, some unknown cadet would broadcast "WKMI" over public radio, and manage to hide their equipment.

The throwing of water balloons at the guard shack, from the back side of the roof of A Barracks, 1961
by Jim Flora and Bob Officer, was accomplished by going through the hidden ceiling door in the their closet of the third stoop, far left end room, and out the rear roof access. They also had a light rigged in attic for after hours study and would use the attic as a place to hide during Thursday evening chapel services.

The gutsiest of all pranks was to paint the gun metal cannon white the night before graduation while senior administration staff would take turns staying up to try and catch the perpetrators.

In 1961, Alex Montgomery was caught and his participation in graduation and his diploma was withheld from the graduation ceremony. According to Major Hewes, diploma withholdings were the limit of the punishment, if the cadet remained to take a tongue lashing. Alex was caught because he had steped in the paint with the largest shoe size at KMI that year!