Company B-3
First Row: R. Jardine.
Second Row: T. Howard, R. Byers, E. Maney, T. Wallace.
Third Row: R. Conniff.
Fourth Row: G. Hayes, G. Kaigh, M. Heredia.
Fifth Row: H. Pontious.
Sixth Row: G. Bauleke, D. Frenier, E. Shaffer, A. Rogers, and G. Tonry.
Seventh Row: T. Osuniga, J. Dashiell, R. McNab, D. Krueger, P. Lisowski, R. Smith.
Eighth Row: J. Wisenbaker, J. Given, R. Baynes.
The guys vanished into the medieval labyrinths of Old South for one year and escaped with more or less the spectrum of assorted creatures available today. Krueg, our local guru, vehemently denied being anybody's "golden boy" and pursued hedonistic shenanigans with his striverr cronies Lisow, (The SS Lisowski kept them illegally mobilized for all contingencies) Spud, and Pinger. A curious collection there . . . "Nift," their occasional partner, generously put in a personal appearance when not annihilating people or streaking about campus. Michael divided his time (equally?) between Debbie and tank warfare; J-Dubs reentered the atmosphere to solve everyone's juice problems and Shafe-Man immersed himself in circuits; Beauregard Byers learned the joys and pains of cheap beer and Gary flew airplanes and fantasied he was Richtoffen. Elsewhere, the RAM made love to his stereo components and went out with every and any girl at least once (sometimes less). B-3's best jock Bankle-sho-fo- fing-son, occupied himself at the gym or was it at the hospital? Spider Man wrote some nifty poetry on the sly and played everything cool. "TC" endured a threat to his virility: Meanwhile Tommy the Prankster never really had one. What God knows what Beefo did on those mysterious weekends in New Hampshire, but he always returned with a strange light in his eyes. 2-man spent his time in solitude pondering why Gerry always got the women. Smith, the Texan, amused us with hi-bar antics, unicycles, and other contributions to the circus. From the mountains of Long Island emerged OTR George with a banjo, Jane, and a song entitled "I'm going Dee"? His roomie Julius maintained a selection of le femmes and no one was certain who he'd be seeing next. Dash attempted to write a dirty novel and read tidbits to his Spiritual Advisor, Harry the Star Man, in between their visits to bars. And finally, there was Rohairs who joined us last by accident (literally) and contributed wonderfully to the degeneracy. Mostly an interesting lot to spend four years with (but no more!) -- Dunk
