--alternately a swimmer or coach who was being honored, and an introducer. Among them was a young gallant, the coach of something called NWAC, whose appearance was augmented by his words in the eyes of the Patton fold. For he turned the tables, and bestowed acknowledgment to their leader--the Cap'n --when it was his own turn to be honored. I allowed that the Cap'n was getting even with someone else later in the evening, when he gave a huge trophy to a gentleman named George Van. For even though he was called a Van he had no such qualities and could not possibly haul off such an award; so...he deftly imparted '"such qualities" to his wife, thereby escaping the dilemma. It was a man with "gray hair and sad eyes," however, who stole the show. Leo Maas was his name, and he was to be honored as a Master Coach. But he disallowed the title--"Master Coach"-- and then went on in a moving speech to prove, indeed, that he was a Master Coach, touching not on his moment of honor, but rather on the sport he loved and the way to keep it on a high level--"free from menial little arguments."
Surf: "Portraits from the Past," #5:
RAY "FERGIE" FERGUSON
Ol' Fergie blew into town a little while back on a warm breeze from the Florida Naval Training Station where he is stationed. He is now approaching 6' 5" in height and with those extra thick glasses he wears, he bears a strong resemblance to a double-barreled telescope on a hill-top observatory. Imagine what a blast he has slipping in and out of those hatches and doorways on a navy ship, that were built for little men.
The last time Ray was on a vessel was when the Powser's invited us on their 42 foot launch, and we stayed overnight. It comes to mind that Fergie was sleeping with his head near an open screen, when some no-account (no idea who it was, of course) sneaked on board with a can of bug spray and proceeded to perfume Fergie's dreams. Needless to say, he awoke breathless, gagging and in a half stupor. Then, when that mad-sprayer told him he had a huge bug in his bed, Fergie came all the way awake, groping for his glasses and shouting: "It's a bold weasel!"*
But Ray was a good sport--he had to be--and carries with him the best wishes of his Patton teammates wherever he goes. Stay away from submarine duty, Fergie, the only way you'll fit in one of those tin cans is if they use you and your lenses for a periscope.
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