It happened back in the 'Thirties when I was attending the old two-room Pine Grove School in Lee County, Virgina. Above the school there was a pasture and, at the time, it was being used to pasture five or six horses.

On up, on top of the hill where it leveled off, there was an old cemetery. The cemetery was fenced in to keep the horses out. But somebody or something, had tore part of the fence down the horses got in and messed up the place.

So one day some of the older boys at school decided to go up there at morning recess And, of course, us younger ones, being curious as boys are, tagged along with them.

Now they went up there with intentions of doing a good deed. Somebody had fixed the fence but the cemetery was filled with horse manure. They intended to clean out the horse manure.

So we got there and they looked it over and decided that, since there had been a hard freeze the night before, we should have no trouble picking up the horse manure with our hands and tossing it back across the fence. It was real easy because the stuff was froze as hard as a rock. I'm sure that we would have had it cleaned out within a few minutes but it didn't take long for one of the older boys to get an idea. And the first thing you know we were in a big manure fight, or whatever you want to call it.

As the battle went along, we chose up sides and gathered up piles of the stuff and got behind the tombstones. We went at it hot and heavy. Some of the older boys were strong and could throw hard. They could pop you with one of them frozen missiles and just about lay you low if it hit you in the right place.

Well this went on and we started yelling and the horse manure was flying in all directions. We forgot all about the time and didn't hear the school bell ring. All of a sudden we heard someone hollering at the top of their voice. Behold, we looked up and there was the teacher.
I don't know how long he had been standing there watching. He said, "What on earth are you boys doing?"

We were standing there embarrassed and squirming. He stood there looking at us for awhile and finally said, "Well, let's go."

We didn't have much to say the rest of the day because he told us he wanted to see us all after shool and he had a reputation for being tough. We were worried to say the least.

After school let out, he stood there before us. He rocked back and forth. He had a big long paddle in his hand that he kept slapping on the side of his leg. "Well," he said, "I don't know exactly how to punish you boys for this."

One of the older boys, seeing that the teacher was kinda undecided, thought that we might have a chance to get out of it. He said, "Well, Teacher, we didn't do anything that was bad. Actually it was nothing." Boy, that really teed him off.

"Nothing, you say. You call that nothing?"

"Well," the boy said, "We didn't do no harm so I don't think we did anything."

By this time the teacher was all red in the face and was beginning to yell. "Didn't do anything, you say. Do you call throwing"----and here his tongue got all twisted up---"horse shi...horse sh...horse shirt, er, horse manure, nothing?"

I thought maybe we would get out of it anyway but some of the boys started to giggle. He finally got us quieted down. Then he said, "Now, I want everyone of you to bring a sack with you tomorrow."

"What for?" one of the boys asked.

"Because you boys are going to clean up that cemetery tomorrow. So don't forget, I want ever last one of you to bring a sack."

"What kind of sack?" someone asked. "A grass sack?" You see, that is what we called a burlap bag in that part of the country.

"A grass sack," he yelled. "What kind of a sack is a grass sack?" Well, he was getting more and more frustrated. Finally he said, "Just bring a bag, forget the sack and bring a bag."

Then one of the boys asked what kind of a bag. "What do you mean, what kind of a bag? Just a brown paper bag," he said. "You get groceries in it at the store. Don't you know what a bag is?"

Then one of the boys said, "Oh, you mean a poke."

"POKE!" He yelled. "Whoever told you that a bag is a poke?" By then he was good and mad. To cap it off one of the boys asked him if he had ever heard of a pig in a poke.

He sent us on home and the next morning we all came in with our brown bags, or pokes, whichever you prefer. He marched us up to the cemetery. he let the whole school come and watch.

Trouble is, it had warmed up and rained the night before and that horse manure was no longr hard and easy to handle. It was all soft and gooey, and we had to pick it up with our hands. We'd get a bag full and pour it across the fence, then go back and pick up some more.

The whole school, girls and all, were watching and they began to giggle. You know how girls are. Some of the older boys, they had girl friends and they were in the crowd. You know how embarrassing that can be?

We finally got it cleaned up and went to the creek and washed our hands.

I'll tell you one thing. We stayed away from that cemetery after that.

Some time later, that teacher cooled off enough to see the comedy of it all. He said he had heard us yelling up there and when he looked he seen all that horse manure flying through the air and he thought we were being attacked by buzzards or something.

I wonder if any of the other old boys remember this? Would they admit it if they do?

I think we all deserve medals for participating in this great battle. I have often wondered if any of the other guys suffered any side effects from this battle...like, agent oats, horse manure fever, etc. Something has been bad wrong with me ever since that day.

If that teacher would only step forward and verify this story, maybe then we could all get our medals and see if there is a program that will cover our ills from that battle. If not, I'm sure Congress will create one.

Page created 29 May 2001