The Battle of Birch Knoll

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For Steve Murphy, a man of character, humor and honor. And for the young men of Troop 1.

To paraphrase Yogi Berra, you could fill the history books with stories that aren’t in the history books. Countless stories never make it into the official annals of history. But regardless of their lack of fame, those moments in time change lives and are forever etched into the memories of those who were there. Today’s installment is just one of those. A story of unsung heroes.

The artillery commander felt the warm summer breeze caress his face as he watched the forest trees sway before him. On a normal day, he would have welcomed the wind. But today, it was forcing him to change his plans. Instead of bombarding the enemy, he had to wait.

He hated waiting, but his artillery pieces simply weren’t accurate in windy conditions. So, he and his men waited.

But that didn’t mean his troops weren’t busy. Their primary firing position was tucked away among the trees on top of a hill – giving his team a major tactical advantage. In warfare the high ground is coveted. Elevation is everything. Especially for artillery. The particular hill on which they were perched was known by the locals as Birch Knoll.

If you could remove the trees, you’d see a wide, flat valley below. That valley housed the enemy’s campsite. And just 12 months earlier that same valley was the scene of his troop’s worst defeat.

Now he was back. And so was the enemy. It was payback time.

Three two-man teams of forward observers dressed in camouflage were strategically stationed throughout the forest. Each used hand signals to silently relay messages to base camp about the enemy’s location and strength.

Additional four-man teams were stationed midway up the hill. Once the shooting started their job would be to leave their hiding places and repel any enemy troops that made their way up the two hiking paths leading up the heavily wooded hillside.

The night before, scouts had slinked down the hill and infiltrated the enemy camp. Their mission: to locate specific targets in the camp and pace off the distance from those targets to the base of the hill. That data would allow the artillery teams to calculate and set firing solutions for the inevitable battle to come.

Fire!

From his hiding place among the shadows the lead forward observer saw eight enemy troops assembled around the camp’s main fire pit. They were preparing to clean out a massive pile of ashes left over from the previous night. He knew their habits and had been waiting all afternoon for this very moment – when a group would concentrate in the center of the camp. Now would be the perfect time to launch an attack. One projectile would do the work of many.

He turned and flashed a message up the hill, “FIRE!”

As luck would have it the wind dissipated. For a brief moment the air was still. Three signalmen flashed the “FIRE!” sign simultaneously.

The artillery commander wasted no time.

“Come right two degrees,” he barked to the main battery team. Two operators swiveled the massive 6-foot-tall apparatus. “Increase elevation four degrees.” The gunner immediately made the adjustment. The loader handed the gunner the projectile. It was loaded and checked with swift efficiency, just like they’d done countless times in practice during the past three months.

One last order from the fire commander, “Fire for effect. FIRE!”

The gunner reared back, pulling the massive industrial strength rubber tubing to its full 8 ft. length. He sighted one last time through the center of the 4-foot-wide cross bar and released the liquid-filled projectile.

The red spherical projectile gained altitude quickly and sailed silently over the trees. It would take three seconds to find its mark on the camp below.

What goes up…

The enemy troops below had just begun cleaning out the massive main fire pit. The cold ashes were easily 3 ft. deep. They hated this job. It was a hot, dirty chore that no one enjoyed. And if the ashes got on you or your sweat-dampened clothes, they took forever to clean.

Their situation was about to get worse.

They didn’t hear it coming. Precisely three seconds after launch: SPLOOSH! The Troop 1 water balloon scored a direct hit on the Troop 2 fire pit. The fat, wet balloon hit which such force all eight Scouts were immediately covered from head to toe in sticky gray ash. It took a moment for them to realize what had happened. When the initial shock passed they yelled in unison to their comrades, “Incoming!” as they scattered and ran for shelter.

The unsanctioned, unofficial, annual Boy Scout Summer Camp water balloon fight had begun!

  

Fighting water with water

The previous summer Troop 1 had fought gallantly but was overwhelmed by Troop 2, their long-time rival. Troop 2 was organized and well prepared. And that preparation had allowed them to easily route the boys of Boy Scouts of America (BSA) Troop 1.

Troop 1 didn’t like to lose. And certainly not to those guys from Troop 2. The sting from that loss was especially painful.

But on the positive side, it spurred Troop 1 to take on its own training and preparation in retaliation. All fall and winter they discussed, planned and planned some more.

Step one was to book the camp at the top of Birch Knoll at Camp Ingawanis. They’d need to own the high ground. Check.

Step two was to divide into teams and drill each team on the Scouting skills they’d need. Check.

Step three was to practice. And practice they did. Their monthly meetings were packed with semaphore, discussions about the pros and cons of specific camouflage gear, basic trigonometry, orienteering, and developing a disciplined and thorough battle plan. Check.

When spring finally arrived they moved to outdoor-skills practice, which of course included “artillery training.” Every Sunday night for eight weeks, three fire teams assembled to practice.

The “main battery” was a giant aluminum slingshot originally designed for use by dog trainers to launch rubber dummies for hunting dogs to retrieve. When legendary Scout leader Steve Murphy learned what the boys were planning for summer camp he gladly let them borrow it. The main battery required four boys to operate it. Two to swivel the giant U-shaped crossbeam, one to load balloons, and one to operate the sling.

Along with the main battery were two, three-man “mobile batteries.” The mobile batteries were also slingshots, but instead of a metal frame, two boys served as posts and stretched a 6 ft. sling between them. A third team member would load the sling and fire it. What the mobile units lacked in distance they more than made up for in versatility.

Final preparations had been one week earlier. The main battery practiced hitting a wading pool 100 yards away. They hit 24 of 25. The mobile teams worked on targets 25 yards away and reached a 90 percent success rate. They were ready. Check.

Battle!

The forward observers signaled that the main battery was dialed in.

“Fire at will!” yelled the commander, known by his friends as Gucci. All the Troop 1 boys proudly went by nicknames.

The main battery commenced launching as many water balloons as they could in rapid succession.

A steady cascade of multi-colored orbs found its mark on the Troop 2 camp. Their scouts were scattered and unorganized. Shock and awe had been achieved. But Troop 1 knew it would be short lived. Before too long Troop 2 would get its act together and attempt a counter offensive.

In preparation, Gucci signaled for the mobile units, led by Big Fish and Boz, to take positions on each of the two hiking trails.  

As expected, Troop 2 organized and began sending small groups up the steep hillside.  

The cry went up from the top of the knoll, “Prepare to repel boarders!”

Instantly, the guerilla teams, led by Poptart, formed lines parallel to the hiking trails. As the enemy teams advanced they were hit simultaneously from two sides. This maneuver forced back the majority.

But a few plucky boys made it through – only to find the mobile artillery waiting for them. One young man had the dubious distinction of coming face to face with Boz and his team.

“We’ve got a breakthrough,” he heard from down the hill. “No problem,” shouted Boz.

He simply loaded the largest balloon he had and pointed it at chest level. Two seconds later a young man who thought he was going to single-handedly overrun the Troop 1 position was hit square in the chest with great force, flipping him over backwards.

With that, the Battle of Birch Knoll came to an end.

Troop 1 had earned its revenge. Troop 2 learned never to let Troop 1 have the high ground. And both groups learned it takes days to pick up all the balloon bits left over from a water balloon war – but it was worth it.

More importantly, however, the boys of BSA Troop 1 learned the value of perseverance, planning, coordination and teamwork. And they learned that great things can happen when you take the time to learn from your failures. Lessons that have stuck with them, much like the ashes of campfires from long ago.

While this story isn’t recorded in any history books, it lives in the hearts and minds of a bunch of young men who turned a defeat into a victory. A bunch of young men who’ll never forget the Battle of Birch Knoll.