My First Time in the Slammer.
Entry posted by Gaius Octavius
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When I was a mere nipper of 7 or 8 tender years in Brooklyn* during and after WWII, there were anti-aircraft cannon emplaced on the roofs of industrial and warehouse buildings. Legionaries were on guard at all the entrances to these buildings. The lot in which we roasted stolen mickeys had a machine gun nest with pup tents for a full sized company. The repair docks were loaded with destroyers and other minor war ships. Life boats with all sorts of rations festooned the docks. They made perfect club houses for we kids. The listing ocean liner Normandy, was parked alongside a gigantic grain elevator. Air craft carriers in the harbor and at piers engendered dreams of glorious air battles. Coast Guard bases were all over the place. We could see ships of all sorts forming up for convoys in the harbor. We hitched on box cars being shunted by steam-powered switch engines. Our imaginations were driven to their utmost limits.
One summer day, after the war ended and school was out, a gaggle of us were sitting on the grass trying to decide what mischief we could get ourselves into that day. Some had relieved a grocer of the care for a couple of crates of cherries. Several delinquents had unburdened a soda delivery truck of a few crates of Mission soda. We sat there playing at seeing who could spit the cherry pits the farthest and who could belch loudest. Some imp put up that we should terrorize the girls. Another retorted that we had done that yesterday and that Marlene, the local tomboy, had trashed a couple of us. Jimmy declared that we should grab the machine gun and take care of the girls once and for all. Idiot!, those G.I's would as soon drill us as spit on us. Dopey Joey let out that we should rob the Coast Guard bank. He got punched for his efforts. Let's upend the push carts on Union Street, chimed in another. Those Italians are probably waiting for us with cargo hooks, was the immediate response. Let's rob the Coast Guard bank. Once again, Joey got whacked. Let's go banging on the doors of the Old Folks building. Do you want to get hit with a frying pan? They're ready for us. Baseball? The big guys have all the fields. Football? It's summer, stupid. Let's let the air out of the tires of a cop car. They'll shoot us. Let's rob the bank! Now, as we were reduced to splatting each other with cherries and spraying great jets of soda at one another (which always resulted in a very sound thrashing from our parents), this didn't sound like such a bad idea. So, we chewed the notion over and agreed that it was a very good idea.
This would be a military and naval operation. Big Mac was acclaimed Supreme Commander. He would supply whatever explosives that might be needed. Big John got the navy. I got the infantry and appointed Little Stevey as Chief of Sappers. The naval operation was to be a feint, to draw off the guards. Big John's Task Force was to pirate a paint boat from the Gowanus Canal and sail it to the seaside of the base and worry the guards. My job was to get the infantry under the fences and to dig under the bank to get at it from under ground. Wouldn't we need nurses for the wounded? Yeah, good idea. Under a Flag of Truce we approached the girls with our idea. If we are not in on the job, we're out. But, this is manly work. Then go 
Censored 
yourselves! Such language from mere girls! Dopey Joey said this plan was too complicated and that we should hijack a truck; crash the gates and ram the bank open. Can you drive a truck? Nope! Once again, several murderous punches graced the genius. The time for commencement of Operation Bag the Bank was set for zero one hundred hours the next day.
Off we went to our separate hogans and explained to our parents that we were off on a Cub Scout expedition, so supply us with vittles for the duration. We donned our leggings; hung our gun belts with canteens, first aid kits, knives and whatever else we had. Stuffed our knapsacks with blankets, the sustenance, candy and sundry. Trenching tools and B-B guns were slung. Helmets topped all off. Thus we would be in uniform and treated as Prisoners of War if we were caught. When we left at midnight, it was noted by all the commandos, that our parents looked to the Heavens, undoubtedly imploring the gods for our non-return.
Admiral John nicked the boat and sailed off to the base. Landed and made a racket. The Guardsmen surrounded them and fired off their blunderbusses. Navy surrendered. By now sirens of all sorts were wailing and squawking. Gobs running to and fro in their skivvies. The navy was shackled and thrown into a heap. Whilst this commotion was afoot, Little Stevy got the infantry under the fences and dug under the 'bank'. Big blunder. Very, very big 
Censored -up! It was the officers club! Hearing the scraping and what not, the officers doused the lights and awaited results. As we came through the opening in the floor boards, these louts trounced, gagged and shackled us. The entire force was unceremoniously hauled off to the brig. It was not large enough to handle us humanely, so we were crammed into whatever cells there were. Someone was missing - the Commander in Chief. One prisoner noted that he was last seen sitting atop a fence with a Censored eating grin on his face. He would be properly thanked if we ever got out of this mess alive. Need I relate that when the girls heard of matters they were besides themselves with hilarity and snide remarks.
Anyway, all was not over. Some bright light decided that we should empty our bladders into the wooden buckets provided and heave the presents into our jailers faces and then make a break for it, when they opened the cell doors to chastise us. This was the biggest blunder of all. Most of the base responded to the new emergency. All who could get a lick in, punched, kicked and cudgeled us. Crying and begging fell on deaf ears. No quarter was given. We motley many were physically kicked off the base at the end of the day.
Once upon a time these gobs used to give us great globs of ice cream when we were their bat boys. Ungrateful hooligans that we were.
When we repaired to our estates, our parents made inquiry with regard to our tattered conditions. Oh, some big guys had at us.
Operation Bag the Bank was a big bust and thus my first time in a slammer.
* Ancient name. Now Brookfordshiresexingham.
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