They had no strategy. They had no game plan. Just white balls of lard flying through the air as a group of sophomore midshipmen got down and dirty early yesterday to grease Herndon Monument for the annual rite of passage for plebes.
By midafternoon, a slew of first-year midshipmen would writhe, slip and slide all over the 21-foot obelisk and each other to pluck a plebe's "Dixie cup" hat from the top and replace it with an upperclassmen's hat. It's been a tradition at the Naval Academy for as long as anyone can recall and it symbolizes the last obstacle the class will go through as freshmen.
With a loud cheer and about 200 pounds of lard, the sophomores got to work promptly at 7: 30 a.m. This crew had an incentive for making the climb tough. They set the record for the longest climb last year at four hours, five minutes and 17 seconds. That TC earned the class of '98 the distinguished nickname of "90-Late."
But the midshipmen, who spent 1 1/2 -hours greasing the monument, said they had no agenda.
"It's important just to have fun," said Paul J. Detar, who was part of the greasing team. "You're not here to break records, but uh, if you accidentally break one like we did, I guess that's OK."
Within the first half hour, hands and wristwatches were slathered in white lard. Shiny grease dripped from the three women and eight men dressed in blue shorts and white T-shirts. White globs of lard filled their ears, covered their necks, wedged between their toes and slicked back their hair.
A lard fight soon followed, sending flecks of white showering the crowd that had gathered to watch, the ground, and just about everywhere except the monument.
Screaming and screeches rang out in the warm morning air as midshipmen were smeared with lard.
"Hey, save it for for the monument!" shouted Tommie Watkins, 1998 class president who had the honor of taping the Dixie cup on top of the monument. "Geez. Give them a couple hundred pounds of lard and they turn into a couple of little kids."
One of the rowdy crew moved in to give class secretary Aaron McGowan, who was dressed in a camouflage uniform, a menacing hug.
"Come on, man. Please," McGowan pleaded as he inched away slowly. "Don't do it, dude."
Nearby, David Durken held two fists full of lard and struggled to use his feet to take off his tennis shoes and avoid getting them covered with grease. He made it, but the white socks posed another problem.
