The American Indians held the white or gray buffalo in great reverence. It was a kindred spirit of the hunt and a symbol of great courage. I'm here to tell you that I've seen a "Gray Buffalo". Not only have I seen one, I've talked with him, shared meals, and campfires and traveled hundreds of miles singing the songs of the past.

In a little residential community, just north of Ormond Beach, Florida, resides "Gray Buffalo" or as some of the rest of the world knows him as Walt Monroe. He and his lovely wife Candy have a son and a daughter. And a couple two or three grand-children. Walter has a tremendous love for children and takes every opportunity to talk, teach and worship with them. I guess that's why he fits in so well with the rest of us Royal Rangers, as most people claim we're just big kids.

I met Walt and his wife in the early 80's, at a commander's conference. He had announced that his outpost was having a dinner catered by a professional chef and he invited myself and my wife Margaret to attend. The big night came and we drove the 70 miles to Ormond Beach for dinner. When we arrived Walt treated us like family; he introduced us to his wife Candy. The dinner was all he said it would be. We left with promises for the four of us to get together in the near future.

It was probably a year or two before the four of us actually got together. But Walt and I saw each other frequently on different Ranger functions. Walt was my "by mail" instructor and grader for the LTC. The comments he put on my returned tests gave me inspiration to excel in my Ranger endeavors. In fact he has always encouraged me in anything I wanted to do. The four years that "Crazy Horse" was overseas, "Gray Buffalo was my mentor. He and I cut out my first capote on his dining room floor. Not only has he been there to support me in my Ranger ministry. He even helped me customize an old Chevy van at his house. He even came to my house and sweated with me in the sun replacing the upholstery. One day my wife and I weren't home, he stopped by and installed a custom drink holder that he had hand made himself. Right after that I spent the weekend at his house and we cut out and installed new windows in my van. No questions asked he was always there for me.

I have always been a "do it at the last minute" type of person. Well one year, we were going to an FCF trace. I got off from work late and had to rush to make it on time. Consequently I forgot my blood pressure medicine. When enroute to Walt's house my wife called to have them tell me what I had done. His wife Candy worked for a doctor and 15 minutes after I had arrived she had gotten sample packets from the doctor of my medicine. Enough for the weekend! It really made the weekend more enjoyable to say the least.

I remember one year, there was going to be a territorial rendezvous in northern Alabama. My wife and I discussed it at length and she, I mean we decided that we could not afford the trip. As it would have been my first territorial, I was really disappointed. I called Walt and told him the bad news. Man was he disappointed, and asked me why I couldn't go. Then after he said, "Look Gator, we've got a van load going up. The church is footing the bill for the gas, and Candy is making extra sandwiches so we don't have to stop for food. There's a big cooler of drinks too." The only cost would be my gas to Ormond Beach and back when I returned. I talked it over with my wife and she could see that I really wanted to go. I had a small import truck and ten dollars topped off the tank. In 20 minutes I was packed and on the road. A little less than an hour later I was in Ormond Beach loading my gear into the church van.

We departed the church about 5pm and drove all night, arriving at camp just about dawn the next morning. I remember jumping out of the van and then jumping right back in again. It was about 20 degrees and I was dressed in shorts and a tee shirt. The whole trip was one that I will always remember. We sang almost all the way there. Changing the radio station whenever we got out of range of the local oldie station.

I came into FCF in Wachula, FL in 1986 and went out for Buckskin in 1987 at Lake City, FL this was our winter Trace for the Seminole chapter. Again Walt encouraged me to join them for the event. When we arrived and started setting up camp, Walt took charge. He let my son and I use a Whalen tent that he had, as we had no lodge of our own yet. It was not much more than a drop cloth with sides on it. It protected the residents from the dew and that's about it. That night the temperature dropped to just about 17 degrees. My son was so cold that I gave him my blanket and sleeping bag and I sat up all night feeding a fire in front of our meager shelter.

I must regress a few hours here. Earlier that evening was the regular business meeting for our chapter. Finally after the minutes were read and approved and old business was taken care of, the meeting was opened for new business. The first order of business was advancement for Buckskin, As my luck would have it, I was first in line. When asked what my craft was to be, I replied "Frontier cooking". The president who at that time was Frank Pettis asked if I had any samples of my craft for the board. "No sir" I replied, "but if you and the entire chapter will come to my camp tomorrow I will be pleased to serve all some "Bull Gator Tail Stew". Well, let me tell you they ALL showed up, not just all the council but the entire chapter. Thank God they came in spurts though. And being a good host I had to have a bowl with each group as they arrived. By the end of the meal I had about nine bowls of stew.

Well I don't quite know what happened, if sitting out all night and combined with all that stew, needless to say I was really sick by morning. I spent the better part of the next day behind a bush a ways from the camp. IT, whatever it was, was coming out of both ends. I got dehydrated and doc put me on camp restriction and liquids. I told him that a liquid is what got me in trouble in the first place. I stayed sick the rest of the day and all night. The next day I stayed in camp while others went to church. When Trace was over they had to break camp for me as I was too nauseous.

Finally on the road home I'm laying with my head near an open window, just in case. When all the sudden Walt slams on the brakes and pulls over to the side. Throwing the van into reverse he backs up for a hundred feet or so, and stops next to a dead raccoon. Everyone jumped out of the truck and Walt proceeded to skin the critter. This did not help my stomach condition one little bit. We heard a horn and looked up, our District Commander Larry Harper was slowing down to see what was wrong. Walt simply held up the carcass and he knew those crazy FCF'ers were at it again, and drove on. After the hide was salted, rolled up and stowed away on the trailer, everyone except myself was hungry. We stopped at Mickey D's in Ocala, and ate. Actually I was very hungry, but did not trust my stomach anymore. So all I had was a sprite to try and calm it down. When we got back in the van, I slept the remaining 2 hours back to Ormond Beach. Everyone unloaded and my son and I started on our hour-long trip south. With both windows down, I felt pretty good by the time we got home. That was one trip I'll never forget.

During the next few years, till the present, Walt and I have shared many campfires, good and bad. We've swapped tales, some tall and some not quite so tall. His wife and mine have joined us many times in fellowship. Sometimes we'd end up there and sometimes they'd come down to where I reside, or we'd meet in-between.

I thank God everyday for a friend like "Gray Buffalo"; I would desire that everyone could be so lucky. I cherish every moment that I've known him. Remember "there is" a "Gray Buffalo", I know him, and he's my friend and brother.