"We need CPR and first-aid out at Bonfire!"

This was the shout that rang through the dormitories of the Texas A&M Corps of Cadets far past midnight on Nov. 18 in College Station, Texas.

That morning, and on through the week, 12 lives were claimed by the collapse of the Texas Aggie Bonfire, long before its lighting on Thanksgiving night before the annual football game with the University of Texas. The Bonfire is built by and for the student body, with thousands of students participating in its construction.

Instantaneously, the Corps rose to the shout and began to pull the injured and dying from the enormous structure, log by log, which would have been 40 feet tall when finished. Frantic phone calls of mothers to children and chaotic cries ruled the day.

One week after the tragedy, the emotion settled next to me on the couch in the home of a close friend. You see, my friend Chris lost a friend and a member of his squadron that day--Squadron 17.

We talked about all that transpired after he rose from his slumber, and he showed me pictures of himself and Texas A&M junior Jerry Self of Arlington, Texas, one of those lost that morning. We looked at the squadron on a trip to the State Capitol and at a military parade in College Station. Chris even had his arm around Jerry in a picture or two. Jerry was not assigned to work that night, but he volunteered to build long into the morning.

Then my friend showed me an image that I will never forget--one less personal but far more effective in showing exactly what school spirit is about.

On the front page of The Battalion, the Texas A&M daily, there was a photograph of the rescue in progress; a young man was trapped between tons of logs, and one could clearly see that his legs were broken in several places, twisting in the most unnatural of directions.