This reminds me of a story from the scout camp I was staffing over the summer.
So I was facilitating an all-week teambuilding program for this rag-tag group of scouts, most of which had never met before, and at the start of their week they had to come up with a team name and yell. They spoke amongst each other for about 30 seconds before one kid shouts above the chatter, “USSR II, STARVATION BOOGALOO!” The response was unanimous agreement. As for the team yell, it came as quickly as the name did. “WE WANT BREAD! We WANT BREAD! WE WANT BREAD!”
Their enthusiasm for their joint identity was unrivaled by any other group I have ever seen at camp. They worked together like they had all known each other for years and they would hang out with each other during camp hours outside of our allotted team-building time each morning. Their teamwork was only matched by their desire for the fictional bread that we would use as a goal or reward for the team-developing games we played.
Pretty soon, though, the groups identity started to become more of an obsession.
On the week’s third day, before class, we could hear them from the top of the ridge. Everyone could hear them marching in unison, shouting their team yell repeatedly at the tops of their lungs- “WE WANT BREAD! WE WANT BREAD! WE WANT BEAD!” The only thing able to stop them before they did this all the way to class was a furious Ranch director accosting them for startling all of the horses.
The eerie levels escalated when, after one of our more intense team-building games, they all rose from the benches, unprompted, and did this-
I’m glad I was quick enough to get a good video of it.
Take note of the boy at the center of the ring- he called himself Pelican (each team member gets to pick their “real name” at the beginning of the week.) Pelican became the group’s messiah, and a kid that called himself Dad was his prophet.
On the 4th day out of 5, Pelican did not show up to class, much to the distress of the rest of USSR II. However, they united in his absence and excelled at the challenges we made for them regardless. Later that day, I learned that Pelican had started preaching to his troop about how their adult leaders were tyrannical and was unfortunately sent home from camp early.
On day 5, Dad was also missing from class, for apparently he had taken Pelican’s gospel to heart, directly disobeyed his troops adult leaders, and was consequentially sent home.
Allthough they were down two teammates, the team succeeded anyway, completing the high-ropes course with grace.
At the end of class, we staff members shouted their team name in unison, and they responded with their now infamous team yell one last time before they all left camp at the end of the day.
On the 6th day of that camp week, the cleanup day, we walked down the ridge to our area’s shelter and took in the distinct lack of loud campers with glee. I unlocked the shelters closet to take inventory when I noticed a very large black trash bag that was very unfamiliar and very full of something. Considering the shelter had been locked since we left it the day before, there was no way anyone would have been able to get in unless they were a camp ranger or the camp director herself. We opened it apprehensively.
Inside the bag? Bread. Slices upon slices of loose bread, the whole bag weighing about 40 lbs. The only way they could have gotten bread without exiting the camp would’ve been by stealing it from the PBJ stand during meals, but the sheer quantity of it in this bag was frankly baffling.
Under it was a note written in red marker that read
Now that we are free of tyranny, we shall never starve again
To this day, we do not know how they got the bag into the shelter, if/how they planned this all so meticulously, or if anything became of them after camp.
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