Good story, like of wished we had some whitefish in the Hooch. It did remind me of fishing with my ole last friend, Pete White, on the Tennessee River. We have gone up river to a good spot for smallmouth bass, chunking plugs around the base of the high-tension power line tower west of Joe Wheeler Dam. Pete got a strike and knew instantly it was a good fish. He started yelling "Get the net, get the net." Which I did. The fish strained against the Ambassadeur reel spooled with 12 or 14 lb. line. Pete had lost his ring finger on his left hand to a German bullet around June 6, 1944 (BAR man, 82nd Airborne), so compensate for the lack of strength in this hand, he pushed the rod butt in his stomach. Pete speculated out loud, "I bet it's one of those big stripers." After 10 minutes or more it came to the side of the boat. It was a buffalo fish, 12 - 15 lb. range. I slid the net under it and started to lift it into the boat. Pete yelled "Don't put that thing in my boat!" He got his needlenose pliers and yanked the treble hook from the lip and the fish swam slowly off.

Please forgive the long story, it's a good memory, Pete didn't survive surgery on his heart a few years ago. I put up a shadowbox and framed 3 of my best fishing buddies in it this year. I wish I had one of Pete to include in it.