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From: Fred Mockler
Date: 04 Jan 1999
Talk about fun,.. nothing can really compare to a day over at the SANDS. The whole area, all the weeded area, across Gerrittson Ave. was known as "The Sands". Over there, you could scour all the trails thru the high weeds,..look for toads,..garter snakes,...head back along the back creek and see if any lovers were lying on a blanket, smooching. Every now & then, there werea few, and we would bomb-bard them with dirt bombs, and run like hell. The barge used to pump out its honey cargo over there, and when it dried up, some times it got real hot,.. the phosphorus from the sewage that was there ignited and there were underground fires. We would gets some reeds and light the ends and start, what we called, forrest fires. Man when those reeds caught fire, you had to get the heck out of there fast, the wind pushed those flames around like a inferno. I had a small rifle, a 22 cal. Belgiun made, and only shot 22 shorts. I used to tale the barrel and stick it down one pants leg, and the stock down the other, and head over to the SANDS. Once in a while I would have Frank McDonald with me, or George Benary, or someone,.. we would be walking up Bartlett Place, stiff legged on a hunting safari. Now and then we would meet some of the old gang, they would say,.. "Going Hunting?" We all knew, but, it was tradition to hide the rifle. When we got over there, we never shot anything,.. we saw rabbits, but they were too fast for us,..we shot sea-guls, but the 22 short slugs would not penetrate their feathers,..so, mostly we shot cans,..and things floating,..BUT, it was fun. We got a lot of mileage out of the old rifle,..then one time, when I was home on leave from the Coast Guard,..I decided to take the rifle over to the sands and do some target shooting. It was between Christmas & new Years. Now, that gun lost its trigger years ago, and I never replaced it. Here I am, with the gun loaded, trotting thru the weeds, tye hammer cocked,..and it started to rain. Well, what ever made me put my finger over the end of that barrel, I'll never know,..I had rabbit fur lined gloves on. "BANG", you guessed it,..I shot my damn finger. A weed hit the trigger, and there I was, a hole in my finger, rabbit fur sticking out of the hole in the glove,... Well, I head home,..and my sister takes me up to Dr. Haselkorn, and he has to report a gunshot wound. Well, I get a call from the "61st to bring in the gun. Well, they accepted my story about cleaning my gun, and it went off. They kept it, to send out to see if it was involved in any crimes. I went back to my Coast Guard Cutter, and never went back for the gun. A few years later, I see in the papers about a barge, heading out to sea with all contraband guns for the deep six. I guess my little gun was there also. But, as I said, those weed, and that whole area was part of Gerrittson Beach, as were any other section we so richly remember.
As ever,... Fred Mockler
