Texas A and M University - Aggieland Yearbook (College Station, TX)

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baseball, intramurals — they went fast and before we knew it Final Review had rolled around again. This time we ripped off our braid and donned our white belts — this time we were juniors. As we bade good-bye to our seniors, some of the finest men we’ve ever kno wn, we shed a few tears too, for we realized our time at A. M. was half gone. However, as we marched off the field as plat, sgt.’s, 1st sgt.’s, sgt. maj.’s we could only smile and look to the sun, for at last we were no longer the low men on the totem pole. The summer was long and hot and we were ready when Sept, rolled around again. As juniors we learned quickly the meaning of responsibility and how to handle men; we were running the out¬ fits now. This fall we saw that Fighting Aggie Team” rack up 344 points to their opponents’ 217 in winning seven games. Few of us will ever forget Bob’s immortal 73 yard run which gave us a victory in the dying minutes of the SMU game in the Cotton Bowl, or, of course, that decisive Ag victory in the Presidential Bowl. During our junior year we began to appreciate things we had not noticed before — the Academic Building and Sully” in the moonlight, the old Ad Building at night — the little things about the campus we had unconciously come to love. Soon another semester began; we dug in and worked harder and harder. Then the Junior Prom rolled around. It was a glorious week-end, but we hadn’t quite realized how many of our class were gone until the dance. We missed old faces, old friends, old times. Once again, on a beautiful Saturday morning we bade farewell to the Seniors. This time it was harder than ever. We had come to love these men, who had been the bloody sophomores over us when we were fish”, who had told us to grab pouch so many times when we were sophomores. We hated to see them leave and knew it would be difficult to fill their shoes. As we put on our buttons and gold braid and took the outfits by, in honor of the Seniors, our chests were swelled with pride and our hearts were filled with happiness for at last we had reached our goal ... we were Seniors at Texas A. M. . . . 21

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We are the class of ’52 and this is our story: On a sweltering Sunday afternoon in early Sept., 1948 we came to Aggieland 1500 strong from cities and towns all over Texas and the southwest. We were tall, short, fat, thin, some cowhands, some city slickers, many farmboys, but we were all green, we were all scared to death by the whole thing. However, being eager and wild-eyed as is any freshman, we began to learn and make friends quickly. There are many things about our freshman year and the annex which we would rather forget. But there are other things which we wish to live in our memories forever — the chills running up and down our spines at our first yell practice, yelling until we could yell no more, the thrills of Aggie football on Kyle Field, College Night, the Corps Trips, the Bonfire, and at last Thanksgiving and home. Then three weeks of school, the Christmas dinner, and home again. When we returned to school after the holidays we dug in anew with the realization that we had the battle half won. Be¬ fore we knew it Easter was upon us and we had not long to go, and suddenly, Final Review. We said good-bye to the seniors, pinned on our curved brass, pushed our caps down on our noses, and paraded that day as we had never done before — we were now Sophomores! We returned to school the following fall only to find that since we were on the Annex we were considered third semester freshmen rather than Sophomores. It was difficult at times — we remember so vividly the long hours of sign-painting, drilling, and walking the bull ring, the soph- sergebutt meetings, the air-outs, waking up to the familiar tap, tap, tap. But as thousands of Aggies have done, we just grinned, stuck it out together, and were better men for having done so. We raced through that fall semester, and as we started our 4th semester at A. M. we looked about us with the realization that many of our classmates were gone — about half of them. Some were incapacitated by financial reasons, many had not the mental backing, and some were deficient in other ways. We hated to see them leave, but for those of us who stayed, a job remained to be done; so we dug in again. The weeks of the spring semester were filled with studies, hard work, basketball games, track, (Continued on next page)

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The jocks learning how to eat dust and drive a tank at the same time. Gen. Boatner observing the training of the Infantry cadets at Fort Hood, Texas. Summer Camp Upon leaving school with the Ole Lang Syne” of Final Review still ringing in their ears, all the new Seniors with army contracts reported to Army posts the country over for six weeks of summer camp. The training for each branch was hot, rugged, and hard. Few have any pleasant memories of their summer camp training, but each man benefited greatly by it. And, as always with Aggies to¬ gether, the good bull and fellowship of friends prevailed in each camp. Seniors in the Signal Corps learn how to properly lay lines of communications.