Sank Same

This was the most contrary crew of football players ever to sail out of the U.S. Naval Academy on a leaky autumn afternoon. They seemed determined to scuttle all the pregame dope. Tradition would have had them decked out in white jerseys--a nice counterpoint to Army's ominous black. They trotted out in powdery pastel blue. Tough as they were, they were supposed to have a rough time with Army's roughriding halfbacks, Pistol Pete Dawkins and Bullet Bob Anderson. But the first time Army got the ball, the two highly-touted cadets were tossed for a combined loss of seven yards.

So it went all through the game at Philadelphia's Municipal Stadium. The ornery Middies even upset the odds makers. They were picked by the bettors to win by six points. But they swamped the Army 14-0, and they did the job so thoroughly that the final score was an understatement.

Marvelous Mudder. The quick Navy line bounced and jittered through so many defensive formations that Army Mockers got as fouled up as the weather. The Army infantry could never get rolling, and the cadets fell back on old-fashioned three-P football: punt, pass and pray for the breaks. They kicked repeatedly on third down, completed a couple of passes, even got a few breaks when Navy backs fumbled the waterlogged ball. But all their prayers only produced a Navy attack for which they could not fathom an answer.

Navy Quarterback Tom Forrestal had a helmet full of tricks. Crouched behind his center, he kept Army off balance with continuous long counts while he twisted his head and acted as if he were casually counting the house. Then a quick switch to a quick snap would send him scampering around end on a run-pass option play. Sometimes he flubbed passes when the wet ball skidded off his fingers, but always, when he needed help, he had the most devastating weapon on the field: Navy's rapid little (5 ft. 10 in., 176 Ibs.) captain. Ned Oldham, a marvelous mudder from Cuyahoga Falls, Ohio.

Oldham was everywhere. On the last play of the first quarter, he skipped through the entire left side of the Army line to put Navy in front 6-0. Then he calmly kicked the extra point. He caught passes, pitched laterals and ran like an Army tank all through the rest of the game. When Army did threaten, it was Oldham's interceptions, as much as anything, that threw them back. And in the final quarter he caught an Army punt, navigated 44 yards of Philadelphia mud to score once more. Once more he kicked the extra point.

It Was Easy. Oldham did not do it alone. Army Tackle Bill Melnik got so exasperated at seeing Navy's Battleship Tackle Bob Reifsnyder (6 ft. 2 in., 228 Ibs.) playing in the Army's backfield that he put Bob out of the game. It was easy. He threw punches until Bob punched back. Both were banished.

By then it was too late. Navy had won, Academy Superintendent Rear Admiral William R. Smedberg III was already in the dressing room accepting an invitation to play Rice in the Cotton Bowl, and Ned Oldham, candidate for lieutenant commander in the Brigade of Midshipmen and scholar on the superintendent's list (Naval Academy equivalent of dean's list), had already insured himself a name and a place in Navy history.

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