Charles Alexander's Bravery

Charles Alexander's Bravery

August 4, 2017

South Texas during football season can be hot — even at night.  It was one of those sultry evenings when the Edinburg Bobcats were playing football against one of those evil adversaries from some other town — maybe McAllen.   As I remember, the outcome of the game had already been decided and Edinburg was stomping the bejesus out of the McAllen Bulldogs — the score was maybe about 35 to 10 with only a couple of minutes left in the game. 

Jerry Kaml, Charlie Alexander and I were on the top row in the stands on the east side of the field where an occasional light breeze could reach us to help cool our sweaty bodies.  But, in spite of the heat, it was time to celebrate the great victory against the hated enemy.  One of us had a pocket full of confetti.  I think we had found this confetti in a trash can in a secretary’s office where she had been punching holes in colored paper so they would fit in a 3-ringed binder or something.  Anyway, we had filled the pockets of our Levis with this paper — not sure how we would use it.  Now that the Bobcat football team had won, and at half-time the Sergeanette Drill Team (which included this cute blond twirler named Pat Turner, Margaret Mathews as Drum Major in the band, strutted up and down the field and Peggy Freeze (who wore those tight blue jeans as she moved so gracefully in the halls of Edinburg high School) led the crowd to cheer.  A. C. Johnson, Eddie Marburger and the other heroic football players had led Edinburg to a great victory over a hated rival. 

Anyway, it seemed a opportune time to use that confetti in our pockets.  We threw some high into the air and a sudden gust of wind appeared out of nowhere and caught that confetti, carried it down and along the bleachers where it settled on top of a large group of unhappy McAllen Bulldog fans. This all happened back in about 1954 when it was fashionable for some guys to apply profuse amounts of Wildroot Cream Hair Oil that made their hair look slick and wet.  And so it was with these Bulldog fans.  We watched with considerable pleasure as those small pieces of colored confetti fell onto and stuck to those oily heads.  “Serves them right” we thought for being in our stands when they should have been in the stands on the other side of the field where the enemy supporters were supposed to be..  But, we were not yet done.  Just as we were tossing some more confetti into the air, one of the enemy was watching and so detected the source of all that paper that was sticking in their hair.  Of course they were already unhappy because their team was losing badly — but that confetti sticking in their hair was the last straw. 

So there they were — a group of maybe 10 to 100 of them glaring at us with fire in their eyes.  We looked around us for help from our side but all we could see was mothers with babies and old men with small grandsons.  Yes, we were all alone — just the three of us left to face those guys that looked about the size of Dallas Cowboy linebackers and likely all had switchblade knives in their pockets.  I was busy looking for an escape route in case they charged us, when something incredible happened.  One or two of those guys, with the oily hair and adorned with colored confetti, were making obscene gestures to us beckoning us to come down for a fair fight.  Well, Charlie Alexander took offense and charged down through the crowd to take on that platoon of the enemy — all by himself.  I expected that maybe Charlie would get into a shouting match or something, but no — he dove headlong into those guys and quickly disappeared from view.  I assumed the worse.  Charlie had likely been stabbed and kicked to death.  Those guys who likely wore steel-toed boots were now taking turns kicking poor Charlie in the face.  Jerry and I were faced with a horrible dilemma.  Should we run to Charlie’s defense where we too would be stabbed, sliced and kicked to death or should we wait until those guys dispersed so we could find Charlie’s lifeless body and take it to Skinner’s Mortuary.  Visions of knocking on Charlie’s family door came to mind.  Mrs. Alexander would come to the door and we would have to explain that her son was dead but could found in Skinner’s Mortuary.  Then we would apologize for not taking care of her baby boy as we had promised earlier.

Now understand, Charlie’s hostile actions were totally uncharacteristic.  He was normally a very  mild-mannered guy, well-liked by his classmates, a good student, very intelligent and a good friend.  His dad had died of cancer when he was about 6 years old and his mom supported Charlie and his two brothers by working in the Hidalgo County Courthouse.  His family was held in high esteem in the Edinburg community.  But now that promising young man lay bleeding and maybe lifeless on the Bobcat bleachers.  Pity!

But, by now the game had ended, the “linebackers” with the oily hair dispersed and a miracle happened.  Charlie’s head appeared up out of the bleachers, he struggled to his feet and stood up.  Hurray!  Charlie had risen — he was not dead after all.  Jerry and I — feeling very guilty for not having the courage to help him — were especially relieved.  The greasy-haired guys with confetti in their hair must have felt satisfied that their honor had been restored and they drifted away.  We checked Charlie’s body for blood — thinking that we would likely need to rush him to the hospital — but there was none.  However, he was holding his hand over his mouth and then showed us a front tooth which had been chipped badly “when he was kicked in the face while he was down” he said.

Charlie wore that chipped tooth like a badge of honor — that he so justly deserved for his bravery.  I have sometimes wondered if that event in the bleachers had some influence on the three of us in deciding to join the Marine Corps sometime later.  But, I do know that after a couple of months in Marine Corp Boot Camp, we donned our dress uniforms for the requisite graduation ceremony photos, and the photo I still have shows Charlie’s happy face — but that chipped tooth was not exhibited because we were not allowed to smile for photos.  Otherwise, Charlie’s chipped tooth served as a memorial to battles fought. 

As I was thinking about this story, I had a vision of Charlie’s retirement party from the Marine Corps (I was not there) and he was in his dress blues, major’s uniform and on his chest was a plethora of medals that he had won during his service to these United States.  And there, in the middle of all those medals, was one that he earned for his heroics in the Battle of the Edinburg Bleachers.

Now, here we are about 61 years later and I am here representing not only myself, but also our old buddies: Jerry Kaml, Tosh Williams (who joined the Marines later) and Howard Simmons (who joined the Navy) the entire Edinburg Class of 1955, and the citizens of Edinburg to honor and wish Major Chuck Alexander a very happy 80th and to caution him to be very careful about taking on a platoon of Dallas Cowboy linebackers all by himself in the future. 

OK, that’s my story and I’m sticking with it — but we can now hear Charlie’s version to clean up some of those pesky details.
 

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