September 11, 1973, Tuesday

We get lazy sometimes; we light up a joint in our private area, and blow the smoke out the widows. Tonight was one of those nights. The night watch came running over to us. “The SP’s are down stairs!” He frantically was telling us. “They have dogs! They are on their way up here now!” We didn’t need to hear any more. Our pot stash was in another part of the barracks. They were coming up the stairs, which left us with the forbidden fire escape as our only exit.

Forbidden my ass, we busted through the doors. We flew down the straight flight of stairs. The steel stair fire escape went up three stories trip and it will hurt. We flew down the stairs. We ran out in to the night. The theater was playing Jeremiah Johnson, we hid in the dark theater.

When the movie ended we came back to the barracks one by one. The master-at-arms questioned each of us. We pleaded ignorance, I was out all evening. And nope I don’t know where those other guys are. I do not know what you’re referring to. Did someone go out the fire escape? Oh.

We all said the same thing. They had nothing on us. The other guys in here are moving on. Nobody wants to get involved as a witness.

The truth is freighting, this building would go up in flames quickly; it is that old. But we are not to use the fire escape under no circumstances. The master-at-arms and the fire marshal vow to find the culprits. Later.