I knew nothing about holding such
a convention and there was certainly no one else in our Division, so far as I
knew, who had done such. But The Old North State was on a roll from recent
oblivion. As the NC Division Commander, I really felt I had no choice, This was
an excellent chance to bring the Tarheel outfit back into national prominence
where it right- fully belonged Turning to the two camp commanders present, I
asked: "Which of you two will assume this task and move our North Carolina
Division forward?" With little hesitation, the Commander of the Asheville
Camp #15, Bob Beard, spoke up: "Bert, I’ll do it!" Neither of us knew
what exactly lay ahead, although Bob's father had at one time been a Commander
of the SCV as I understand. We both went to work. Bob with his Camp membership
and my dealing with National on protocol and other matters involving National
Headquarters plus items involving our state government, e.g. getting an
official Governor's Proclamation, helping "grease the wheels" of
progress as our engines chugged up the hill. "We can do it! We can do it!"
Bob and I repeated constantly. Bob enlisted the aid of his old friend,
"Tuck" Gudger, a Camp member. These two hard workers led their Camp,
creating an outstanding tribute to the resurgence of the SCV and MOSB in North
Carolina. See the Official Program of the Convention
on the following pages. At this
Convention I was asked by MOSB members on the National staff what had become of
the MOSB in NC. Required semiannual reports and not been received for several
years. Having spent little of my time with the MOSB, knowing little about it,
while concentrating on the larger sized SCV, I admitted such to the staff
members. But to solve the problem expeditiously, I solicited volunteers on the
spot to sponsor an MOSB Chapter to supplement their camps. Immediately, Paul
Laird of the Wilmington Camp and Roger Alvis of the Lewis Armistead Camp in Jacksonville
announced they would do this ASAP. I, myself, formed the Lt Wilson Bailey
Chapter in Raleigh.
"Ask for it, you'll get it!"
was our motto. I found out several months later there had been some meager MOSB
activity in NC but there were no chapters listed on the National rolls Our ole
raconteur Real Son, Allen Horne, along with his young wife, was at the
convention. He really enjoyed himself, regaling all with his humorous anecdotes
about THE WAR and today's everyday problems with his typical light-hearted
solutions. When he was presented his Real Son medal at our State Convention in Raleigh
in 1978 (see pictures following) by Adjutant Ray Hendrix, he was most excited.
He told us a story he had first heard from his Confederate father. While
marching thru Hagerstown, Maryland, during the WBTS, a couple of young lassies,
leaning over the balcony of a hotel alongside the road, flashing skirts made of
US flags, asked: "How would you like to fight under these flags?" Old
Man Horne replied: "I would like that mighty fine, ma'am" as he
climbed the stairway. The giggling girls fell back, laughing. Repeating such stories
to the other Real Sons present at the Asheville Convention kept all in fine
mettle, enjoying each other's company. I talked with these Real Sons and felt
all were most happy conversing with our oldest Tarheel. Sadly, upon the return
home of Allen and his wife, it was but three months elapsed before he
"crossed over the River to rest in the shade of yon trees". On his
chest in his coffin, thanks to a promise his wife kept, was the Real Son medal
presented him at our State Convention in Raleigh
in June '78. I noted early in the
mornings at the Convention "Tuck" and Bob hanging up pictures, arranging
all the flags that adorn National Conventions milieu, hovering near the sign-in
tables to guide attendees to proper doors and rooms, and otherwise making themselves
easily available to assure their Convention was a success and a happy reminder
to all that the sovereign state of North Carolina was once again alive and
kicking. All the meetings, scheduled events and such were well planned and
insured smooth operations.