Dhahran Diary®

Title: Scouts

DD15

We had Brownies, Cubs, Girl, and Boy scouts in Dhahran. These were organizations from which a number of activities were launched. There was always someone in the community interested enough to be a scoutmaster or a volunteer. Frequently, these people had professional career abilities that went along with scouting in some way. The big events in the early days were travel related.

My first big excursion was to Bahrain. It was a home stay and I was assigned to the Simpson family. Father was an Englishman and mother was American. They lived at the British Arabian Petroleum Company (BAPCO) camp of Awali, a micro camp of Dhahran with stone homes, a perimeter fence, a main gate, and irrigated yards with lots of trees for shade. It was a weekend jaunt with a launch ride to Manama, swimming at the virgin pool, a big football (soccer) match, some shopping, and a big campfire meeting where we sang many songs, two of which will always be with me: The Quartermaster's Store and Ninety Bottles of Beer on the Wall. The verses to the former are priceless and nonsensical: There was butter, butter, a -rolling down the gutter, in the store, in the store, there was butter, butter, a-rolling down the gutter in the quartermaster's store. My eyes are dim I can not see, I have not brought my specks with me, I have not brought my specks with me. Then there was gin that makes you thin, rice all covered over with lice, etc. The fire raged and we sang into the night.

Earlier, the football match was fun as British scouts invited their female counterparts. They were more schooled in the ways of foot control. When the ball came to me, I reared back and instead of kicking the ball, I lashed into a girl's shin. She hopped about on one foot and spat out, "Oh, you bloody Yank!" I tried to stay out of her way for the rest of the trip.

This Yank stuff was new to me. Up to then, my only generic enemies were LA turf captains- people who would pound you on the way to school for passing through their turf. I did not know about the idea that America had come into the war in Europe and the big argument between British and American kids in 1950 was who won the war? I really didn't engage in this kind of chat but I was to find out later, on a passenger liner full of British, that most Americans were barely tolerated and their offspring were to be scorned and ignored ( and maybe pounded). In spite of this misunderstanding, the scouts transcended this attitude. Americans were welcomed, entertained, and sent home happy. I had a great time in Bahrain. To this day, British cinema is still my favorite.

We were billeted in bachelor housing at Mishab. We had the run of the beach. The recreation building and dining facilities were open almost all the time. We spent most of our time on the beaches, chasing sea creatures. We did manage to borrow a pick up and have a joy ride. I do not remember doing very much scouting, more running out of control. There was an octopus that found its way into Ralph Magruder's sleeping bag. It soiled his sheet and he took mine in reaction to the big laugh it got. Nobody thought about the poor, dead octopus.

A long scout journey was the bus trip to Hofuf caves. It was a two nighter and I'm sure it was March because on the second night it rained torrents. We visited the town of Hofuf, then went to nearby date gardens to play in the cool, damp shade beneath the date palms, and late in the day came to the caves. We visited the caves for several hours, in groups, and finally departed for another cave area where we ate and slept out under the stars. The caves had long runs and small anterooms where we found pot sherds and some bones. We conjured up all kinds of theoretical stories and told these around the fire that night.

Sleeping under the stars in the Eastern Province is something to behold. The skies are thick with stars and shooting stars. The Milky Way is a heavy band. We had to find the north star and measure the angle to the horizon to determine our latitude. Some of the scouts knew bigger stars' names, some had Arab sounding names. Bob Hardy slept to one side of me. In the morning, he was about five feet away down the slope on which we rested. This was his sleeping mode- he sort of wormed his way down into his bag at night and the next morning he was always slightly removed from the rest of the group.

The following day we were kept busy hiking and that night we were all tired and ready to turn in early. A storm hit during the meal preparation and we all got into the bus. Someone stoked up a brass petrol burner and we used a large kettle to cook the whole meal in the aisle. We opened all the cans of Canadian bacon, Australian ground beef, vegetable soup, potatoes, and so forth, and mixed the lot together into a stew. We spooned it out and fed the whole bus load. Then we all went to the floor and fell asleep in an instant. Kids can sleep anywhere.

There were also camparees. From Dhahran, these were three days stays at Al Azzazziyah spit or Half Moon bay. I recall one camparee where the girl scouts had their stay somewhat removed from the boy scouts but at the same time. The boys were called together and given explicit instructions NOT to bother the girls. I would say this was more of an invitation to an attractive nuisance. There was lots of planning and a few boys went over: while the girls were seated around the camp fire, the boys sneaked up, threw eggs, and ran. The girl scoutmasters, men, jumped into their trucks and gave chase. The boys scattered and it was a beehive of activity as the headlighted vehicles scanned back and forth for the retreating boys in pitch darkness. One rascal threw himself down in the tire track of a passing vehicle to escape detection and was almost run over on a subsequent pass!

These camparees were well planned. There were at least three trucks, a tank water truck, a Kenworth bobtail to haul the gear, and one or more cars or small Dodge Powerwagons. We unloaded the gear at the site and set up the big tent. The older scouts, Jon Walker, Dave Taylor, and others, told us what to do and how to do it. We dug the latrine, a slit trench at least three feet deep, we set up the kitchen, and we started the fire. Some scouts started their own fires and cooked separately but we usually ate breakfast together. There was a huge flying pan and we would crack maybe fifty eggs into it and make scrambled eggs. Bacon cooked on in other pans. It was great fun. We bathed whenever necessary. We'd get beneath the tanker's spigot and let the warm, sweet water run. It only took a few seconds. We never used soap! After the details were set and the place was cleaned up, we would have inspection, then marching, and some scouting ventures. We worked on merit badge activities, studied elements of scouting, and frequently went to look for wildlife in conjunction with merit badge study. Sometimes we just played in the gulf. Fishing was a big hit. So was beach combing.

Once Pete Simons found a pearl in an open shell. The shell had both halves attached but was resting open on the sand at the water's edge. It was tear shaped and we all struck out for more pearls but found none.

The sea scouts were formed. I don't know how but some of us started wearing white gutras instead of the red checkered gutras that were part of our official uniform. We had a sail driven dhow at our disposal. I don't know how that came about. I suppose ARAMCO rented it. I was only on one cruise. We boarded the dhow and the crew sailed us up to Tarut Island. We swam, dived, and fished. It was great fun. On the return leg, all the fishing poles were stacked around the main mast in teepee fashion. Steve Furman walked by that clutch of tackle and a spoon caught him right through the hangie-down part of the ear. There were probably 20 of us on deck and Steve called one name; Rolf, it's got me, he said! That's when I knew we were best friends. The lure that hooked him was on a springy steel leader and it danced over to him as the dhow rose and plunged through the waves. Someone took needle nose pliers and cut the hook. When Steve got home his Dad ran a tooth pick through the puncture and bathed it with alcohol.

The dhow's crew had a line attached to the top of the main mast. We used it to swing out and splash into the water while at the island. There was a fort; some said it was Portuguese, others said it was Turkish. Once anchored, the crew showed us how to use a nose clip for diving. They also had a basket full of rocks. A line was tied to this weight and we were taught how we could ride this weight to the bottom like pearl divers. The job was getting the rocks back to the surface for the next trip! The water was terribly salty. It stung our eyes badly when we tried to open our lids underneath; the Arabs were used to it. They laughed at our discomfort. But, someone had a face mask and they loved it because they could see so well beneath the surface. The water was a copper green and so clear we cold see the bottom from the surface. The dhow had a chair which overhung the stern. It was the toilet.

Smaller scout outing were taken almost weekly. We would leave on Wednesday night or Thursday morning and stay one night and one day. These were informal and very relaxing. Dave Taylor rigged up a board that could be towed by rope behind a vehicle. Three or four scouts could ride at once. The board was like a sand toboggan. The vehicle pulled the board through the soft sand going up and down the back side (shallow) of a dune. As the vehicle turned the centrifugal force caused increased speed and the board would dance and skip on its rear corners. Sometimes it tumbled and the kids flew off in a flurry of arms and legs. The board somehow slapped someone in the eyebrow causing a nasty gash. That was the end of that activity.

In camp one night, two scouts built a trench fire to cook their evening meal. This is made by digging a trench maybe four inches wide and ten inches deep. The trench is on an angle into moist sand, maybe two feet long. The cooking pan or pot is rested on the ground above the deepest part of the trench and the wood is fed into the trench from the shallow end. It was a windy night and the scouts chose this method to keep the fire from blowing. Unfortunately, they built the trench between the back wheels of the truck, hoping for added wind protection. Had not the scout master or one of the older scouts noticed this arrangement, the tires would have caught fire or worse! Something interesting was always afoot.

On another night, the scoutmaster was elsewhere for a while and he put Steve Furman in charge during his absence. One of the scouts was being picked on and he decided he'd had enough. He started running for home. We were at al Azzazziyah beach and it was at least eleven kilos home as the crow flies and six o'clock in the evening. Maybe 15 minutes after the scout left someone mentions it to Steve and he takes off after the runner. Then most of us started running after Steve. We were strung out over maybe three kilometers, some walking, some running, some returning when it was realized that the runner has a big head start and no one has a chance to catch him. A few of us continue in the direction of Dhahran. We are following two sets of foot prints headed northwest. After about a half hour, we come upon Steve and the runner. Steve has his arm around the runners neck and is coaxing him back in the direction of the beach. The runner is giving Steve a battle about coming back until he sees the rest of us. Then he gives up and comes back to camp peaceably. The scoutmaster put the right person in charge, luckily. We could have waited until the scoutmaster came back and chased the runner down with the truck but Steve was that kind of kid. He said, that guy was my responsibility.

On a short trip to Half Moon bay, we awakened the next morning to a shamaal. It was blowing a little when we awakened but got stronger as the morning wore on. We put gutras around our heads to keep the sand from pitting our faces. Those in shorts were getting chaffed. I can't remember why (I think the truck would not start) but we broke into two groups. One stayed at camp and the other group started walking out for help. Our goal was to cut the Abqaiq to Dhahran road and catch a ride to Dhahran. We'd check in at the main gate, call for support to retrieve the group left at our camp. We walked and walked, heads down. We could not see too far ahead. We were bent into the wind and the going was very slow. We were thirsty and it didn't take long for the water to disappear. We continued along, heads down. We had no idea where we were. We had the gutras wrapped so we just had a little hole to see our feet so as not to stumble over rocks or tufts of grass hills. We took to walking for large stretches with our eyes closed. They were tearing and sand was sneaking into the small opening, the grains sticking in the tear stream of each eye. All of a sudden, we heard an engine and realized we had stumbled onto the edge of the road. It was petroleum and sand mixture- very black and hot. We lined up on the edge of the road and a truck with three Arabs stopped. We motioned for Dhahran and they invited us into the back of the pick up. They dropped us at the main gate and we alerted security who took it from there. Thirty minutes later I was bathed and having lunch. Just another westerner living in Arabia. Forty-five minutes earlier, I was a kid in the middle of the desert with poor survival skills, no sense of direction, and no water in a blinding shamaal. I always marveled at how the Arabs could survive in such circumstances. I was tired and lay down for a rest. As I was dropping off, my Mom answered the phone. It was the scoutmaster checking to see if all members of his flock were back safely in the fold.

Copyright ©1999-2006 Rolf A. Christophersen
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