In Virginia: The Boy Scouts Encamp

By Dean Brelis

They have gathered from all over the country on this dusty plain of Fort A.P. Hill in Virginia, some 90 miles south of Washington. There are flags, and the sound of whistles and bugles, and the exuberant cries of young voices, chanting as they march by. This is the tenth national jamboree of the Boy Scouts of America, and 32,000 youngsters have camped among the tall pines, like an army taking its rest after a string of victories.

In these historic woods, where the American Revolutionary Army under George Washington prepared for the Battle of Yorktown in 1781, the Scouts reflect a profile of young America, the face of its future. A Scout is white or black, Hispanic or Asian. He is not poor. He could be called the son of America's middle class.

Guided by his parents and his own instincts, a boy becomes a Scout because he senses that it will help him to grow up. He does not beat his chest with pride. But he cheers loudly whenever his troop or his home state is mentioned over the p.a. system. He is glad to belong to something outside his family, and his family is glad too, spending about $485 to send him here.

During the 1970s, Scouting seemed embarrassed by its old-fashioned ways. It tried to go modern, moving away from the outdoor skills stressed by Lieut. General Robert Baden-Powell, hero of the Boer War, when he founded the British Boy Scouts at Brownsea Island in 1907.

A Scout handbook issued in 1972 emphasized getting along in cities--and never once mentioned campfires. With its purpose obscured, the Scouts lost 2 million members over a six-year period. Last year a new handbook was published, restating the founder's enthusiasm for the outdoors. Membership began to grow again, and this year's jamboree was seen as an opportunity to show the world that Scouting was back where it belonged, under the stars.

"It was wrong when the Scouting movement turned away from the outdoors," says Scoutmaster Irvin Graybill of Middleburg, Pa. "A Scout learns self-improvement and self-confidence when he's out in the woods, away from home, with his buddies depending upon him. There will be times when he misses the comforts of home, but he won't quit and cry. His ability to prove he's ready takes hold and becomes part of his character."

Wearing red berets or khaki forage caps emblazoned with buttons, Scout knives dangling from every webbed belt, the youngsters here plunge into seven days of whirlwind activity. They compete in a wilderness decathlon, pitch horseshoes, brand leather, play soccer and Frisbee, build a bridge without any rope, set up a tent blindfolded, run an obstacle course with arms tied, fish, canoe, raft, fire air rifles on a marksmanship range.

They learn new skills like archery and electronic pathfinding, using two-way and directional radios. The jamboree song puts it best: "We're marching together, while doing our thing, a Scout on my left, a Scout on my right--the thousands of Scouts are a wonderful sight."

Even though they came from 50 states and 28 foreign countries, the Scouts camped on this 76,086-acre Army reservation have no trouble striking up friendships. Right from the start, their common experience produces a camaraderie as thick as campfire smoke. "Even in Texas, where we do things big, you couldn't do things better than the first night," says Houston Scout Chris Watson, 15. "We all marched to the amphitheater, and we were under the sky. The stars were coming out. We began talking and singing. I tell you, there was a glow all over the place, and I felt it inside me too. When I looked around and saw all those flashbulbs popping and kids taking pictures, it was like seeing fireflies all over the place. I was proud to be part of it, really proud. It's something I won't forget."

Much of the art of making friends is concentrated in patch swapping, a singular ritualistic encounter. On towels and blankets all over the campsite, patches are displayed and haggled over like items in a Cairo bazaar. Value is determined by color, design and availability; among the most prized are patches that were discontinued because of defects in their manufacture. No money is exchanged. Money, after all, is not the point. Says Scott Sippel, 14, of Houston: "You improve your collection. You get a Scout's address and you write him. You become pals."

Patriotism is open here, even natural, although its military trappings are somewhat muted. From a booth on the main street, which has the bustle of a frontier town, Green Berets offer classes in first aid. At an Air Force exhibit near by, Scouts watch a ten-minute film about B-52s and climb into a cockpit for a simulated flight. The National Rifle Association, which has mounted a nationwide campaign against gun controls, is less subtle: a Scout learns how to shoot and how to cook the game he kills. More popular are lessons in how to pan for gold. "There's nothing dopey about trying it," says Frank Gallagher, 15, of State College, Pa. "I know a kid who did it in North Carolina and got himself $45 worth."

The pressures of growing up can be seen here, but they are not obvious. The Scouts are so independent and purposeful that it's easy to forget how young they are. That realization comes rushing back at the sight of two dozen boys storming a pay phone to call home. But the future doesn't seem to scare them. Scouting is partly to credit: it makes life a shared adventure. "You feel you're not alone when you are a Scout," says Mike Byrnshire, 15, of Vinita, Okla. "You've got friends everywhere. It's a brotherhood."

For some of the older Scouts, this jamboree marks a rite of passage, a time to leave Scouting for other challenges: finishing high school, getting into college, finding a job. Chances are that they will be better prepared than many of their peers. One of those moving on is Ken McGagh, 17, of Weston, Mass.

"Being a Scout, you finally begin to feel like you're able to stand on your own two feet," he says. "You know how to hike, set up a camp. You get so you understand what self-confidence means. I hadn't been able to talk to adults until I became a Scout. Now I know how to talk at meetings of adults, which is certainly useful for anybody." Especially for young McGagh, since he hopes to be a lawyer.

The jamboree provides an opportunity to test philosophical outlooks, or lack of them. Here boys talk to their peers in a spirit that combines honesty with trust. Sitting around fires or lying in their tents, they wonder what the year 2000 will be like, and whether there will be colonies in space and room for settlers and pioneers.

They find solace in the presence of others their age who have not yet tried marijuana--or listen spellbound to a youngster who claims he has. They display as much interest in girls as anyone else their age, and so they ponder the mysteries of love. A few wise guys have smuggled in copies of the latest Playboy, and these are assiduously examined under blankets by flashlight.

There are also home-town girlfriends who arrive for a weekend visit, with chaperones, of course; as one is guided around the encampment by the lucky boy she has come to see, Scouts not so fortunate exchange looks of anguish and envy.

At night, with tent flaps open and the light of campfires flickering beneath the towering dark trees, a harmonica plays a mournful country-and-western air and young voices hum along. Guitars and a drum join in, changing the melody. "The corn is as high as an elephant's eye," the Scouts sing, none louder than a large contingent from Oklahoma. Their voices seem to reach the tops of the trees. If there are doubts about the move away from city Scouting, they pass into the night. "Sure, kids today are different," says Scoutmaster Arthur Ferraro, 64, of Westerly, R.I. "But you get them out in the woods, they understand what survival means. That hasn't changed." Fires are doused, smoke rises in mute silence, the vast camp falls quiet to the sound of a bugler's taps.

--By Dean Brelis

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