Virginia Tech Magazine Feature 1

In addition to showing support for the corps, Hickam, who runs every day, said he wanted to participate in the event in order to "tune up for my summer dino-hunting trip," which involves walking all day long. The Montana badlands, where he searches for dinosaur bones, are hilly and covered with slippery rocks and deep cracks. "At least," I thought, "we don't have any cracks to contend with--and precious few hills."

I asked him about starting the tradition he and his friends in the corps began when they gathered materials and constructed Skipper, the cannon [Virginia Tech Magazine, Vol. 22, No. 4, Summer 2000] fired at football games. "When you're doing something like that, you don't realize that you're building something that's going to turn into a great story or a tradition," he responded. "We just wanted to build a cannon that was bigger and better than VMI had. Who knew that we would build something as long-lasting as the Skipper?"

Hickam fired the cannon twice during a football game last fall. "That was fun--more fun than the football game. I'd rather just go fire the cannon," he laughed. He said he liked the roar that went up from the crowd. "That's what it's all about, getting everyone all excited."

His comments made me think about Add Caldwell, who didn't realize that he was starting a tradition, either; he just wanted to make it to Blacksburg. We still don't know if he made his long walk with the intention of registering at the new land-grant college--he may have just wandered in out of curiosity.

I then asked Hickam what effect he thought the Caldwell March would have on the cadets walking with us. "I think it's great--it's a rite of passage. They'll have a definite sense of accomplishment," he responded. "You know, when you go through something that is arduous physically, that's a real bonding moment for everybody, including me. I'm bonding with these guys myself--that's great!”

"Now that you're part of the Caldwell March, what do you think of what Add Caldwell did?" I asked. "Well, if this was the route he picked," Hickam responded, "I think he should have ridden a mule." He said he admired the corps for making the difficult march. "It would be easier for everyone to just go run around the Drillfield and call it a day."

The actual route Caldwell took is unknown, but the route we took on April 9 probably was not part of it. The first half of the march, which is commemorated each fall by incoming freshmen and crosses Sinking Creek Mountain, more closely follows the first half of the route Caldwell is believed to have taken. Tracing what is believed to be the second half of Add's trek to Blacksburg would involve walking beside U.S. Route 460, so the commandant's office changed the route for safety reasons.

One cadet, a senior who had participated in both marches each of his four years at Tech (upperclassmen who train the freshmen also make the march), said the hike helps participants to remember Tech's past. "I like to get out in the field and do something like this rather than just sit around the Upper Quad or run around the Drillfield or whatever. It's a whole lot better than that. You're out in the woods walking around--and it's much more meaningful."

THE LONG WAY HOME

While I was interviewing Hickam, a number of cadets asked him to pose with them for photos. Said one, "It's pretty nice to see someone coming back and doing this, recognizing what we're doing since it's a tradition that only started a few years ago. Homer Hickam is definitely one of our more famous alumni, so it's nice to see him showing the support, walking with us."

When we reached the spot on the mountain where we would eat lunch before beginning our descent, I removed my boots and socks and applied moleskin to my blistered heels. I was afraid to sit down to eat the peanut butter and jelly sandwiches provided to the marchers because I thought I might not be able to get up again.

Before we hit the trail, a couple of members of the commandant's staff began urging me to ride the van down the mountain. "This part is a killer," Roszak told me. "It jams your toes into the front of your boots." I had had that experience once before--it cost me Caldwell March four toenails, my personal record--but I was determined to continue. The descent was so steep that I had to brace my legs to keep from running. And I learned quickly that Roszak was right; my toes ached relentlessly.

Somehow, I reached the bottom of the mountain still standing. By then, the nice, cool day had become a hot one, adding to everyone's discomfort, although I didn't hear anyone complain. In fact, one cadet even started playing a harmonica.

During the next break, I switched my boots for my tennis shoes. They were still wet, but I was hoping that they would apply pressure someplace on my feet other than my toes. They didn't.

After the rest stop, I found myself walking beside the commandant at the head of the march and began asking him questions about why the corps broke the march into two parts. "For awhile we thought about doing the entire march--hiking halfway and camping out," Allen responded, "but we didn't have the equipment and it would have been a big undertaking to have 350 people camping out in the woods somewhere. So we decided to split it into a 13-mile hike in the fall and a 13-mile hike in the spring. It was about the same time that we came up with a phased training program for the freshmen, and it was convenient to have the fall Caldwell March as a milestone marking the end of the first phase of training for the freshmen.

Caldwell March "The spring march," he continued, "signifies the end of the training program for the freshmen. I think the greatest thing about this march is that it is a team-building exercise. It's a physical challenge--going up Brush Mountain--and afterwards it's something the freshman class will talk about for years as 'something we did together.'"

As we walked through a Blacksburg neighborhood, Roszak pointed out that I was limping and encouraged me to ride the van from our last rest stop, which would be about a mile from campus. Most of the cadets had passed me by the time we reached that stop. I was tired and in pain, but I caught sight of Derring Hall and decided that I could suffer for at least one more mile.

I may not have come in dead last in the march if the cadets hadn't jogged most of that last mile--no one will ever know. But when I reached the Upper Quad, the march was over. Dead last or not, it was heartening to hear a contingent of the Highty-Tighties welcoming us with music, and I felt a sense of accomplishment. I had made it--against the odds, it seemed.

The hike gave me a greater appreciation for Add Caldwell--and knowing that Homer Hickam completed the march added to my admiration for him.

The experience was unique--but it won't be for too much longer. The commandant has already given me permission to join the fall march. I wonder if I'll have all my toenails by then.