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Title: West Point

Author: Robert C. Richardson

Author of introduction, etc.: Hugh Lenox Scott

Release date: June 13, 2018 [eBook #57316]

Language: English

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*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WEST POINT
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East View of West Point from the Hudson River

West Point
An Intimate Picture of the National
Military Academy and of the
Life of the Cadet

By

Robert Charlwood Richardson, Jr.
Captain, 2nd Cavalry, U. S. Army
Late Assistant Professor of English, U. S. M. A.

Foreword by

Major-General Hugh L. Scott
Chief of Staff, U. S. Army

G. P. Putnam’s Sons
New York and London
The Knickerbocker Press
1917

Copyright, 1917
BY
ROBERT CHARLWOOD RICHARDSON Jr.

Second Impression

The Knickerbocker Press, New York

To
THE CORPS OF CADETS
REPRESENTATIVE OF THE BEST AMERICAN MANHOOD, HEIRS
TO
A CENTURY OF UNSURPASSED ACHIEVEMENT AND HONORABLE
TRADITION—THE MOST HIGHMINDED, LOYAL, AND
DISCIPLINED BODY OF STUDENT OFFICERS IN
THE WORLD—I AFFECTIONATELY
DEDICATE THIS VOLUME

FOREWORD

W EST POINT played a great part in the gaining of American
independence. It was strongly fortified as the key of the Hudson,
and as long as it was held by the patriots of the Revolution the
New England colonies could not be cut off from the others and conquered
one at a time.

The lack of educated officers was greatly felt by the Generals of the
Revolution, and this lack was but feebly supplied by trained officers from
abroad.

It was mainly through the foresight and patriotism of Washington,
Hamilton, and Knox that the Military Academy at West Point was founded,
and their memory is still enshrined there.

The Academy had its inception in very small beginnings, first by the
assignment of students to an Engineer regiment until the organic act of 1802
created an Academy with ten cadets. A firm establishment was not made,
however, until the detail of Colonel Sylvanus Thayer in command in 1817,
who laid down the fundamental principles which govern the Academy to
this day.

The early graduates of the Academy suffered much from the jealousy of the
old veterans of the Revolution who had no use for the educated soldier.
These graduates were too few to make themselves felt in the War of 1812,
and it was not until General Winfield Scott eulogized their services in the
Mexican War that they began to be appreciated by the nation.

Their services in the Civil War were inestimable and are known to all who
read history. After the Spanish-American War of 1898, the then Secretary of
War, Mr. Elihu Root, reported that the services of the graduates of the

Military Academy in that war alone had far more than repaid the cost of the
Academy since its foundation in 1802.

For many years the Military Academy was what its name implies, an
Academy, but it has expanded from time to time until it is a military
university, giving instruction for all branches of the service except the
Medical Corps, and securing for each graduate a broad foundation which
enables him to specialize in any direction by means of the various special
schools for each branch. The glory of West Point, however, is in the West
Point character, now well known in every civilized country in the world,
with its reputation for fidelity, efficiency, discipline, and general
uprightness. The standing army of the United States has always been too
small for the tasks that have been laid upon it, and at every crisis it has had
to train large forces of citizen soldiers summoned from civil life for the
emergency. These citizen-soldiers, as well as the Regular Army itself, rely
upon the scientific education and high character of the West Point graduate
to keep the art of war abreast, if not a little ahead, of the times, and for the
initiative and informing leaven to permeate the mass and to cause the firm
progress of discipline and uprightness throughout the whole.

Shortly after the Mexican War a verse was added to the old West Point song
of Benny Havens:

“Their [graduates] blood has watered western plains
And northern wilds of snow,
Has dyed deep red the Everglades,
And walls of Mexico.”

Since that time they have shed it copiously in Cuba, China, and the
Philippines, and they are now about to take their places with comrades from
civil life fighting for liberty and democracy on the battlefields of France.

Hugh L. Scott.

Washington, D. C.,
May, 1917.

PREFACE

T HIS book is intended to give, aside from a brief historical sketch of
West Point, something of the feelings of the cadet from the moment
that he reports for duty until he graduates four years later. Perhaps
some of my fellow West Pointers will disagree with me in regard to my
interpretation of their feelings, but what I have written thereon is drawn
from my own experience and from many conversations with cadets of to-
day. The customs, traditions, methods of training of the Academy are, I
believe, unique, and they make an unforgettable impression upon the cadet.
Especially does he become imbued with an almost indefinable influence
that we of the Academy call the Spirit of West Point, and in the pages that
follow I have tried to seize and translate into words this spirit of the
institution. I have greatly enjoyed writing these pages about West Point, a
subject very dear to my heart, and I offer this book to the public in the hope
that my fellow countrymen may become better acquainted with the aims
and ideals of their National Military Academy.

It gives me the greatest pleasure to acknowledge here my appreciation and
thanks to Lieutenant Colonel L. H. Holt, U. S. A., Professor of English and
History U. S. M. A., not only for his helpful suggestions and criticisms, but
for his encouragement and unselfish interest in the preparation of this book.

I also wish to acknowledge the courtesy of the Reverend Herbert Shipman
of New York, formerly Chaplain at the Military Academy, in allowing me to
use his poem The Corps, with which I close the volume.

Since this book has gone to press, Colonel John Biddle, the Superintendent,
has been promoted to the grade of Brigadier-General and relieved from the
command of West Point. He has been succeeded by Colonel Samuel E.
Tillman, Retired, who until 1910 was the Professor of Chemistry and
Electricity at the Military Academy. Colonel Tillman perhaps more than any
officer in the Army is better qualified for this important position. He is a

graduate of West Point, to whose advancement he has devoted most of his
life and he has made an exhaustive study of its needs. His appointment by
the President seems to be particularly felicitous for he possesses a most
intimate knowledge of the Military Academy. All West Pointers rejoice that
West Point is in such good hands.

Robert Charlwood Richardson, Jr.

West Point, N. Y.,
May, 1917.

CONTENTS

CHAPTER PAGE
I.— In the Days of the Revolution 1
II.— The First Hundred Years 19
III.— The Realization of an Architect’s Dream 37
IV.— The Powers that Be 75
V.— “Beast Barracks”—Blessed are the Meek for they
shall Inherit the Earth 101
VI.— Bending the Twig 127
VII.— The Discipline of the Mind 163
VIII.— Growing Muscles 194
IX.— Lessons from Mars 213
X.— Hence, Loathed Melancholy! 244
XI.— Strengthening the Moral Fiber 276
XII.— Spiritual Influences 291
XIII.— The Spirit of West Point 300
Appendix 305

ILLUSTRATIONS

PAGE

East View of West Point from the Hudson River Frontispiece
The Spirit of West Point 2
Artillery Target Practice 6
Major Sylvanus Thayer, “The Father of the Military
Academy”
From the Painting by Thomas Sully, Library, U.S.M.A. 24
Class Formation in the Area of Barracks 38
The Administration Building 40
The Administration Building and Riding Hall 42
Colonel Jonathan Williams, Corps of Engineers,
First Superintendent of the Military Academy
From the Painting by Thomas Sully, Library, U.S.M.A. 44
Colonel Joseph G. Swift, First Graduate of the
Military Academy
From the Painting by Thomas Sully, Library, U.S.M.A. 46
Cadets at Equitation in the World’s Largest Riding
Hall (600 ft. × 150 ft.) 48
The Carved Mantel in the Hall of the Academic
Board
The Nine Great Warriors of the World. Sculptor, Laurie 50
The North Cadet Barracks 52
The Chapel 56
The Interior of the Chapel 58

View up the Hudson River from Trophy Point 66
“Spooning” on Flirtation Walk 68
The Superintendent’s Quarters
Built in 1820 78
Colonel John Biddle, Corps of Engineers,
Superintendent 80
“Beast Barracks”—Drawing Mattresses 102
Reporting for Duty 104
Two Hours after Reporting 108
The Interior of a Cadet’s Room in Barracks 114
Moving from Barracks to Camp 118
A First Lesson in Saluting 122
Marching to Barracks from Dinner
The Academic Buildings 154
The Exterior of the Gymnasium 196
Gymnastic Exercises 200
The Athletic Field 208
Setting up Drill on the Plain 210
Parade on the Plain 230
At Target Practice on the Flats 236
At P. M. E. Drill
Building a Pontoon Bridge 240
A Review for the Chief of the Staff of the Army 288
Graduation—President Wilson Addressing the
Graduating Class
“We’ll bid farewell to Cadet gray and don the Army blue” 302

The Spirit of West Point

WEST POINT

CHAPTER I
IN THE DAYS OF THE REVOLUTION

D ESPITE the successful attempts of the architect to give to the
magnificent new buildings at West Point a mediæval character, there
is nothing about them to suggest a feeling of oldness, a feeling that
they are linked with the history of the place. Not until one wanders among
the ruins of old Fort Putnam, explores the crumbling works of the chain of
Redoubts on the surrounding hills, or rambles over the débris of Fort
Constitution on Constitution Island, does he feel the flavor of age, the
romance of West Point of the past. It is only then that the imagination races
back over the years to the days of the Revolution where it pauses to rebuild
the stirring events that filled the daily lives of our ancestors in their
desperate struggle for our independence. Looking backward through the
vista of more than a century the most commonplace happenings seem
powdered with the golden dust of romance. Interwoven with each event are
the names of the men who helped to make possible these free United States:
Washington, Hamilton, Knox; and of him who was almost successful in
thwarting their efforts, the traitor Benedict Arnold.

As far back as the time of the French and Indian Wars both the Americans
and British recognized the great value of the control of the Hudson River. It
would seem, therefore, that when the Revolution broke out both sides
would take every means to seize and fortify the most strategic points along
its banks. Strange to say, the Americans were as indifferent about its control
as the British, so that the Revolution was in progress for three years before
West Point, the natural key to the river’s defense, was fortified.

During the Revolution the British were operating from Manhattan on the
south and Canada on the north as bases. Had they controlled the Hudson,
they could have separated the eastern from the middle colonies, which

division would have prevented the patriots from military combination and
from interchanging the necessary commodities for both sections.

Immediately after the battles of Concord and Lexington, the Congress of
New York, acting upon a suggestion from the Continental Congress, sent a
commission to the Highlands to select “the most proper place for erecting
one or more fortifications.” Constitution Island, and the sites where Forts
Montgomery and Clinton1 were afterwards built, were chosen. Nothing
much was accomplished, however, in the way of fortifications despite the
appointment of another commission that recommended the absolute
necessity for works at West Point opposite Constitution Island.

Washington, accompanied by General Heath, finally sailed up the river in
1776, and General Heath tells us that “a glance at West Point without going
on shore evinced that this post was not to be neglected.” Meanwhile the
Revolution dragged on into its third year, 1778, but still no fortifications at
West Point. Due to Washington’s persistence, work was begun there early in
January, 1778. General Parsons with his brigade arrived at West Point on
the 20th of January and began the erection of defenses. The weather was
extremely cold, provisions were scarce, the men inadequately clothed, and
the troops poorly supplied with the proper implements to carry on their
labor. Altogether, a very depressing and discouraging situation confronted
Parsons’s men as they debouched upon the Plain and surveyed their
surroundings. If any thought could have given them courage it must have
been the reflection that at least they were somewhat better off than their
comrades in arms down at Valley Forge, who, despite their wretched
condition, were bravely keeping alive the patriotic fires of the Revolution.

What a contrast was that first sight of West Point to Parsons’s troops to that
offered today! Instead of the beautiful level parade ground surrounded by
fine granite buildings they found an undulating plain covered by a growth
of yellow pines ten or fifteen feet high, without house or habitation. The
only point of similarity was the snow, waist high. After strenuous efforts to
get logs from the neighboring hills, a few rude huts were hastily thrown
together, and then, at the end of three weeks, the soldiers fell to work with a
will, building Fort Clinton under the direction of a splendid young French
engineer by the name of de la Radière. The cold was most intense, but the

men went up the river, cut the timber for the Fort, and assembled it so that
when the river was open, it might be floated down to the Point. Their hard
daily toil was not relieved by any diversions in the evening, for West Point
was a veritable wilderness. General Parsons, in writing to Colonel
Wadsworth, said of West Point, “to a contemplative mind that delights in a
lonely retreat from the world ’tis as beautiful as Sharon, but affords to the
man who loves the society of the world a prospect nearly allied to the
shades of death.... News arrives here by accident only.” The poor soldiers
had to repair night after night to their little log huts and get what pleasure
they could from one another’s society.

The rigors of the winter and the hardships to which the Revolutionary
soldiers were accustomed overwhelmed the delicate constitution of the
brilliant young de la Radière. Unhappily, he contracted a severe cold that
culminated in consumption from which he died the following mid-summer.
Another European, attracted by the justice of the Revolutionary cause,
succeeded de la Radière. Thaddeus Kosciusko, a Pole of education and
culture, joined Parsons’s officers, with whom he became a great favorite,
not only on account of his engineering ability but by reason of his charming
manners, soft and conciliating, and by the elevation of his mind. One officer
wrote that he took much pleasure in accompanying Kosciusko with his
theodolite measuring the heights of the surrounding mountains.

Today Kosciusko’s name is more familiar to West Pointers than de la
Radière’s, for an enchanting little garden, a tiny retreat hanging on to the
cliff near the river, bears his name, and a monument, in the northeast corner
of the Plain near Port Clinton that he helped build, commemorates his
devotion to the Revolutionary cause.

Kosciusko’s presence and energy put new life into the work of construction.
Shortly afterwards, when orders came from Washington to expedite the
completion of all of the forts, Parsons and Kosciusko, under the direction of
Colonel Rufus Putnam, immediately commenced excavations for Fort
Putnam.2 The men now daily trudged up the small hill back of the Plain and
began making clearings for the fort’s foundation. It was hard laborious
work, extremely fatiguing, and, to add to the men’s discomfiture, they were

greatly annoyed by large rattlesnakes with which the hill top seemed to
swarm.

While the land defenses were being so well prepared, steps were taken to
prevent enemy ships from passing up the Hudson. The topography of West
Point and the adjacent country lent itself most admirably to the plan of
obstructing the river.

The Hudson, as it comes down from Newburgh a straight course of nine
miles, strikes West Point, where it is deflected eastward for a quarter of a
mile, flowing between Constitution Island and the steep cliffs of the Point
before again turning south. Any British sailing vessel coming up the river
from New York would, upon rounding Gee’s Point, lose a great deal of its
speed on account of the swift current, and if stopped by some obstruction
could be held under the fire of the batteries on both shores. General Putnam,
therefore, through his Quartermaster-General, contracted with the Sterling
Iron Works of Noble, Townsend and Co., for an iron chain 500 feet long,
each link about two feet long, to be made of the best Sterling iron 2¼ inches
square, with a swivel to every hundred feet and a clevis to every thousand
feet, for which the government was to pay $440 for every ton weight of
chain and anchors.3

Photo White Studio

Artillery Target Practice

The chain was to obstruct the navigation of the river. It was stretched across
the narrowest part on April 30, 1778, and fastened at West Point in the
second small cove west of Gee’s Point, and on Constitution Island where
the present small boathouse and landing-place stand. Very large logs,
sixteen or more feet long, a little pointed at the ends to lessen opposition to
the force of the water on flood and ebb, were used to buoy up the great
weight of the obstruction. During the winter it was taken up, because the ice
in the river was an effective blockade, but when spring came the work of
280 men was needed to lay it across the stream.

Meanwhile, Kosciusko labored strenuously on the forts, so that by June,
1778, the work on the fort in the northeast corner of the Plain begun by de
la Radière in the January past, was completed and given the name of Fort
Arnold. Later, when Benedict Arnold turned traitor, its name became Fort
Clinton. A small portion of the wall stands today. Washington, on a visit to

West Point in September, 1778, paid Kosciusko a great compliment, stating
to General Duportail, his chief engineer, that he need have no uneasiness as
to Kosciusko’s ability.

Additional troops were at this time sent to West Point because Washington
feared an attack by the British. In the spring of 1779, General McDougall
was at West Point with three brigades; there was one on Constitution Island,
and the main body of the Army was near Haverstraw under General
Putnam. Washington, ever watchful, viewed with great concern the
presence of the British in the strong position of Stony Point because he
considered this post a serious menace to West Point. Wishing to be rid of
them he sent for Anthony Wayne, gave him a corps of light infantry, and
directed him to capture the British fort. A better man than Wayne could not
have been selected for the job. On the 15th of July, Wayne paraded his
troops for a minute inspection, after which, instead of dismissing them, he
marched upon Stony Point, which at midnight he successfully assaulted
with the bayonet. The news of his brilliant exploit was conveyed to
Washington in the following refreshing message:

West Point, 16 July 1779.
2 o’clock a. m.

Dear Gen’l:
The fort and garrison with Colonel Johnston are ours. Our officers and men
behaved like men who are determined to be free.

Yours most sincerely,
Ant’y Wayne.
To supervise better the defenses of the Hudson River, Washington moved
his headquarters to West Point, in July, 1779, where he remained until
November of that year, occupying “Moore’s House,” a structure that stood
in Washington valley near the shore of the Hudson, a short distance from
the northeast corner of the present cemetery. It was built by John Moore
prior to 1749, and called by all the people in the vicinity “Moore’s Folly”
on account of its pretentiousness.

General Clinton tried to draw Washington out into the open country for a
campaign, but the American Commander was too astute and Clinton dared
not attack the Revolutionary forces at bay at West Point because of the
dangers of a campaign in the Highlands.

Spurred on by Washington’s presence and by his orders, Kosciusko and the
troops completed Fort Putnam and Redoubts Webb and Wyllys in the
summer. This work necessitated for fatigue duty each day 2500 men, a large
percentage of the garrison. Even at this early period, West Point was the
Mecca for distinguished Americans and foreigners. Nearly every
Revolutionary commander visited the Post at one time or another during the
war, and while Washington was here, Count de Luzerne, the French
minister, was his guest.

Before Washington left the Post in late November, the troops in the
Highlands were distributed to their winter stations. Little money was
available to equip properly the soldiers but they struggled on bearing their
burdens and hardships that we of today might be free. That they were not
fighting for the present alone, without a thought as to those who would
come after them, is revealed to us by an entry in a diary of General Heath
who was then in command of all the troops and Posts on the Hudson:

25th Nov. 1779. The troops were moving to their different places of
cantonment; many of the soldiers (as fine men as ever stood in shoes)
were marched barefooted over the hard frozen ground, and with an
astonishing patience.

Remember these things, ye Americans in future times!

In the spring of 1780, Washington sent Baron Steuben to West Point to drill
the troops, for he feared an attack by the British. This accomplished officer,
a Major-General in the American Army, had seen seven campaigns in the
service of Frederick the Great, so that he brought to his task a ripe
experience. With Prussian thoroughness he commenced drilling both the old
soldiers and recruits of the command, with the result that by summer he was
able to write to Washington that he had formed a corps of light infantry
“that I dare flatter myself will be the admiration of our allies as much as the
terror of our enemies.”

Notwithstanding the patriotic work of the officers and men of the Army,
Washington was aware that America as well as Great Britain was getting
tired of the war. “There never has been a stage of the war,” he said, “in
which dissatisfaction has been so general and so alarming.” Governor Reed
of Pennsylvania said in August, 1780: “It is obvious that the bulk of the
people are weary of the war.”

The stage was therefore set for the most dramatic event of the Revolution,
the treason of Benedict Arnold. Had Arnold succeeded at this period of the
Revolution, the hour of darkness and depression, in selling West Point to
the British, we would probably still be English colonies. The loss of the
Post would have shaken the morale of the American commanders, not to
speak of the paralysis of any movement upon which Washington’s army
might have been engaged at that particular time.

For more than a year previous to his assumption of the command of West
Point, Arnold had been hatching nefarious schemes to betray the
Americans. He needed money badly, due to his extravagances while in
Philadelphia. His conduct had not been entirely satisfactory while in that
city and open resentment was expressed on account of his preference for the
British faction, but because of his military capacity he was held in high
esteem by Washington. His abilities led Washington to offer him the
command of the left wing of the army then in the field, but he pleaded that
he was unfit for field duty by reason of the wound that he had received at
Saratoga, and requested the command of West Point. His desires were
respected and on August 5, 1780, he assumed command of his new post
with headquarters at the Robinson House.4

Once at West Point, Arnold saw his chance to gain rank and pay from the
British. He immediately entered into a lively correspondence with Major
André, the Adjutant-General of the British forces in America, who was
addressed as “Mr. John Anderson, Merchant.” Arnold’s communications
were all signed “Gustavus.” When negotiations for the betrayal of West
Point had reached a crisis, Arnold requested a personal interview with a
representative of the British. General Clinton then sent Major André up the
river on the sloop Vulture which anchored near Haverstraw. An agent of
Arnold’s, one Joshua Hett Smith, returned at midnight, September 21, with

Major André in full uniform, a landing being made a short distance north of
the West Shore Railroad tunnel south of Haverstraw. Arnold and André then
went to Smith’s house in West Haverstraw. They were challenged by an
American sentinel and it was here that André entered the American lines.

While the two officers were in consultation, the American commander
across the river brought a four-pounder within range of the Vulture, and
opened a heavy fire upon her, causing her commander to shift his anchorage
downstream. Great was André’s dismay at seeing his vessel forced away,
for now he was in the American lines and far from New York. He had been
assured of a safe return to his own lines, and disliked the idea of traveling
alone by land to New York. Moreover, he was very reluctant to take off his
uniform but at Arnold’s advice he changed into civilian clothing, thereby
foolishly placing himself in the light of a spy, if caught within the American
lines. Arnold also gave André important papers regarding the strength of
West Point defenses.

It is not difficult to imagine the state of André’s mind at finding himself in a
false position and at the same time disobeying General Clinton’s orders,
which were not to change his uniform under any circumstances nor receive
any papers from Arnold. Under the guidance of Joshua Smith, he crossed
the river at King’s Ferry (near Stony Point of today) and proceeded south
toward New York.

Although furnished with a pass by Arnold, he was detained by three
American patriots near Tarrytown, searched, and turned over to Colonel
Jameson at North Castle.

Meanwhile, Arnold was at his Headquarters at the Robinson House
awaiting events, and Washington was on his way from Hartford to West
Point. Had Arnold succeeded it is probable that Washington would have
fallen into the enemy’s hands at this time, an accident that would have
ruined the Revolution. When Washington was opposite West Point he sent
two aides to inform Arnold of his arrival. They proceeded to the Robinson
House and were enjoying Arnold’s hospitality at breakfast when Jameson’s
messenger arrived with a note announcing André’s capture. The news must
have fallen upon Arnold like a thunderbolt, but with perfect sangfroid he
excused himself, rushed upstairs to tell his wife of the danger, ordered his

horse, sent for the coxswain of his barge, and then calmly returned to his
guests whom he told it was necessary for him to cross to West Point to
prepare for the reception of General Washington. Instead, he rapidly made
his way down the river and boarded the Vulture which took him to New
York.

Major André was tried by court-martial, found guilty of being a spy, and
sentenced to be hanged. Numerous letters were written to Washington
begging that André’s life be spared. Arnold himself addressed to his former
chief a long communication exonerating André and taking upon himself the
blame for André’s presence in disguise within the American lines. Even
Hamilton was touched, saying: “Never perhaps did any man suffer death
with more justice or deserve it less.”

André accepted his fate like a brave soldier but he revolted from the
ignominy of being hanged. When all efforts to change the mode of his death
failed, he personally appealed to Washington in the following splendid
letter:

From Maj. André to General Washington, 1780.

Tappan.
The 1st. of Oct., 1780.

Sir:
Buoy’d above the terror of death by the consciousness of a life devoted to
honorable pursuits and stained with no action that can give me remorse, I
trust that the request that I make to your Excellency, at this serious period
and which is to soften my last moments will not be rejected.

Sympathy toward a soldier will surely induce your Excellency and a
military tribunal to adapt the mode of my death to the feelings of a man of
honor. Let me hope, Sir, that if aught in my character impresses you with
esteem towards me, if aught in my misfortune marks me the victim of
policy and not of resentment, I shall experience the operation of those
feelings in your breast by being informed that I am not to die on a gibbet.

I have the honor to be your Excellency’s most obedient and most humble
servant,

John André,
Adj. General to the British Army.

His request, however, was not granted and in the early afternoon of October
2, 1780, arrayed in full dress uniform he paid the penalty on the scaffold.
His body was buried beneath his gibbet but removed to England in 1831
where it rests in Westminster Abbey.

West Point and the Revolutionary cause was saved to the Americans! The
shock of Arnold’s traitorous act with its narrowly averted consequences
caused Washington to take even more stringent measures for West Point’s
defense. Orders were issued to continue work on all of the fortifications and
during 1781 and 1782, the garrison labored faithfully and uncomplainingly
notwithstanding the great sufferings of the men from lack of provisions. At
times the stores on hand were numbered by a few barrels of salt pork and a
little flour.

Major-General Knox now assumed command of the Post. After the
cessation of hostilities he was very busy mustering out troops and putting
the garrison in shape.

Despite the poverty that prevailed at West Point, Washington ordered a
celebration to be held in honor of the birth of the Dauphin of France, Louis
Joseph, the son of Louis XVI., born October, 1781. A magnificent fête was
arranged in which all of the troops stationed in the Highlands participated.
Upon the Plain at West Point, Major Villefranche erected a curious edifice,
an improvised temple with a grand colonnade of 118 pillars made of the
trunks of trees. The entire building was festooned with American and
French flags, with designs and emblems, muskets and bayonets fancifully
arranged. Washington, with a party of five hundred distinguished guests,
assembled in the colonnade for a banquet. A series of thirteen toasts were
drunk, each one accompanied by a salute of thirteen cannon. During the
evening there was a grand display of fireworks for the troops and a ball for
the officers and their guests. This dance, led by General Washington, was
the first real West Point hop.

The various details left over from the Revolution were now disposed of by
General Knox and his successor, Lieut.-Col. Rochefontaine. The genesis of
the Military Academy was foreshadowed by the presence of the Invalid
Corps which by act of Congress, 1777, was, among other things, “to serve
as a military school for young gentlemen previous to their being appointed
to marching regiments.”

The dark days of the Revolution were over and the troops could now rest
from their strenuous labors. There were important matters, however, to
occupy the leaders, not the least of which was the establishment of an
institution for training officers for the Army. No lesson of the war was so
well learned as the need for such educated leaders, and immediately the
Revolution was over, Washington, Hamilton, and Knox began urging
Congress to establish a National Military Academy. Although Washington
never lived to see his recommendations carried out, he would have rejoiced,
I am sure, to know that Congress three years after his death founded the
United States Military Academy, at his favorite Post, West Point.

CHAPTER II
THE FIRST HUNDRED YEARS

W HEN at last the colonies found themselves free, and realized that
they were in no immediate danger from any foe, the thoughts of
the people, so long occupied with war, eagerly turned toward the
establishment of their new government. It was only natural that the Army,
weary of the long struggle for independence, should gladly welcome their
release from service, and resume once again the peaceful pursuits of civil
life. For seven long years their days had been filled with arduous marches
through heat and through snow, with tedious vigils on outposts, or with
bloody encounters with the British, and the great mass of the people
joyfully hailed the piping times of peace, and without ado they turned their
battle-axes into billhooks, and their helmets into beehives.

It could not be expected that during the reaction that followed the
Revolution much attention would be given to the subject of military
education. As a matter of fact, for seven years this question was allowed to
sleep; but Washington, ever on the alert for the welfare of the new country,
suggested in his annual message of 1790 to the Congress the establishment
of a National Military Academy. In spite of the great prestige that he
enjoyed both as President and as the man who had successfully waged the
Revolution, his words were not heeded by Congress until some years
afterwards.

The Congress of those days apparently was like our own and needed to
have a matter brought to its attention many times before any definite action
was taken. Washington undoubtedly appreciated this condition for we find
that on numerous occasions he spoke of his plan, telling Congress that “it is
an inquiry that cannot be too strongly pursued.” His efforts were not
without reward, for in 1794 the grade of Cadet was created, and a military
school was established at West Point. This school was composed of the

cadets who were by law attached to the Engineer and Artillery Corps of the
garrison. In each company there were two of these young men styled
“cadets of the Service,” whom the Government aimed to train to become
commissioned officers of the Army. There was, however, no organization to
the school, nor scientific system of instruction, so that the cadets did about
as they pleased, pursuing their studies in a desultory manner.

It was not until the 16th of March, 1802, that the United States Military
Academy was definitely established by law. Congress then authorized the
President to organize the Corps of Engineers whose cadre contained, in
addition to the officers, ten cadets. West Point was designated as the station
of the Corps which was to constitute the Military Academy. The next year
forty cadets, to be appointed from the artillery troops of the Army, were
added and in 1808, 156 additional men.

During the first ten years of its existence the Military Academy was in a
most chaotic condition. It was in reality “a foundling barely existing among
the mountains, out of sight of, and almost unknown to, its legitimate
parents.” It is greatly to be wondered at that the Academy ever survived the
terrible throes of its birth. Almost no provisions for its existence were made
by Congress. The cadets were lodged in an old barrack of the Revolution,
called the “Long Barrack,” that occupied the site of the present hotel, and
their instruction was given in a wooden building called the “Academy” that
stood on the spot of the present Superintendent’s quarters. They were
allowed to board around promiscuously, really living from hand to mouth.
Among the student body there was very little discipline, but a great deal of
idleness and dissipation.

In 1812, a new law placed the school on a firm basis and furnished the
principles upon which the institution has been conducted to this moment.
Two hundred and fifty cadets were authorized and the respectable sum of
twenty-five thousand dollars appropriated for buildings. To offset this good
fortune, the Academy had to fight against the hostility of Madison’s
Secretary of War, Eustis, who tried his utmost to strangle the new-born
institution. But happily the exigencies of the War of 1812 frustrated his
hostile designs.

Despite insuperable difficulties, the Academy began to grow, not
scientifically, but in a muddling sort of way. Where the Superintendent had
heretofore been a rover up and down the Hudson Posts, he now became
permanently located at West Point. The professors began to work together
with more harmony, going so far as to recommend a broadly planned course
that included most of the subjects studied today. By the Regulations of
1815, the cadets were required to mess at a common table, instead of
boarding at private houses, their age limit was fixed at fourteen to twenty,
and their uniform was definitely prescribed. A little order was being brought
out of chaos. Annual vacations were granted, to commence immediately
after the examination in July and to end on the first day of August.
Notwithstanding the excellence of the above features, the general condition
of this infant school was far from satisfactory. A picture of its inner life is
revealed in a letter written in 1815 by Andrew Ellicott, the Professor of
Mathematics, to the Secretary of War, in which he states:

Until I came here the Academy was abandoned by the Professors and a
great part of the students from the first of December until, the first of
April following every year. This practice I immediately put a stop to,
and kept the Academy open two winters, not even excluding Sundays,
without the aid of any other Professor or regular assistant. The winter
before last, I kept together more than twenty students, 16 of whom
were commissioned last July, and last winter more than 80, some of
whom would do credit to any country or nation, and will be found
among our future rulers. These extra services are not ideal—they are
substantial.

Although Professor Ellicott rather emphasizes his assiduity in his
application for extra compensation we must be grateful, at least, for the
glimpse he gives us of the state of affairs in 1815.

Better days, however, were in store for West Point. That the War
Department was not entirely insensible to the handicap under which those at
West Point were working, is proven by the circumstance that at this
particular time there was in Europe an officer, Major Sylvanus Thayer, who
had been sent abroad “to prosecute inquiries and examinations calculated
for his improvement in the military art.” He was given five thousand dollars

for the collection of books, maps, and instruments for the Military
Academy. Shortly after his return, he was made Superintendent, relieving
Captain Alden Partridge whose administration had not been popular nor
very successful. Although Captain Partridge was much criticized by the
professors and cadets his farewell address to the “Gentlemen Cadets of the
Military Academy” was so high-minded that I am tempted to quote it in
full:

Before I take my leave of you, gentlemen, permit me to impress anew
upon your minds some precepts to which I have frequently before this
called your attention. Be attentive to your studies, and correct and
gentlemanly in your deportment. Pursue with undeviating course the
paths of virtue and true honor; and rest assured that although the
vicious and the vain may affect to ridicule and despise, they will
inwardly respect you, and that you will thereby ensure the applause of
the good and the great, and, which is of more importance, the
approbation of your consciences and of your God.

With the advent of Major Thayer began the golden age of the Academy.
This officer was a veteran of the War of 1812 in which he had served with
great distinction; he had studied the military schools of France, and had
profited by his unusual opportunities to acquire a profound knowledge
concerning the conduct of an institution such as the military school over
which he was chief.

The great talents that Major Thayer possessed were well employed. For
sixteen years he shaped the destiny of the Academy, and with such wisdom
and foresight that the broad fundamental principles which he laid down for
the school’s guidance, govern the institution today.

Major Sylvanus Thayer
“The Father of the Military Academy”
From the Painting by Thomas Sully, Library U.S.M.A.

To him, more than to any one man, is due the elevation of the Military
Academy to its high rank among schools of learning both in this country
and abroad.

Upon taking over the command, he immediately drew upon his genius for
organization, with the result that the cadets were organized into a battalion
of two companies, a “Commandant of Cadets” was created, the classes were
for study purposes divided into sections, transfers were made between

sections, and weekly reports, showing daily progress in studies, were
rendered. Moreover, the system and scale of daily marks, the publication of
the Annual Register, the introduction of the Board of Visitors, the check-
book system, the preponderating influence of the blackboard, and the
essential part of the modern Regulations are proofs of his untiring efforts as
an executive. The above changes that he effected, and the reforms that he
introduced, are a part of the modern organization of West Point. Perhaps no
one method has so much influenced the quality of the instruction of the
cadets as the blackboard recitations. Major Thayer insisted on this form,
although old records show that it was introduced at West Point by Mr.
George Baron, a civilian teacher, who in the autumn of 1801 gave to Cadet
Swift “a specimen of his mode of teaching at the blackboard.” Today it is
the prominent feature in Academic instruction.

Major Thayer’s success in giving West Point an upward impetus had
attracted general attention and observation throughout the country so that
appointments were now sought after with avidity. The politicians rejoiced at
the Academy’s increased importance and the consequent patronage that the
appointments offered. Although the present law did not obtain, whereby
Congressmen appointed cadets, still it had been the custom for the President
to appoint men to West Point upon the recommendation of a Representative.
In 1843, a law was passed that allowed one cadet for each congressional
district. Major Thayer was at his own request relieved as Superintendent,
after a brilliant administration whose results were so beneficial to the
institution as to gain for him from posterity the title of “Father of the
Military Academy.”

Could Major Thayer have only peered into the future he would have seen
Fame, years later, crowning three of his raw young cadets. One of the lads
at West Point under Major Thayer was Edgar Allan Poe, America’s
foremost literary genius. He entered West Point July 1, 1830, but after a
troublous stay of a little over eight months was dismissed for repeated
misconduct. Not a great deal is known of his brief cadet days, but his
classmates have stated that he was irritable and morose, and addicted to
excessive drinking. He would steal out of barracks sometimes, long after
taps, and “run it out” to “Old Benny Havens,” a tavern kept by Benny
Havens on the banks of the Hudson about a mile below West Point. Benny

Havens’ name is preserved in song and story at West Point, and tales that
surrounded the cadet reunions in ye olden days at “Benny’s” are flavored
with all the romance of a mythical legend. Old Benny died in 1877 at the
ripe age of eighty-nine years, but his name survives in a stirring West Point
song that I quote in part:

Come fill your glasses, fellows, and stand up in a row,
For singing sentimentally we are going for to go,
In the Army there’s sobriety, promotion’s very slow,
So we’ll sing our reminiscences of Benny Havens, Oh!
* * * * *
To our comrades who have fallen, one cup before we go;
They poured their life-blood freely out pro bono publico.
No marble points the stranger to where they rest below!
They lie neglected far away from Benny Havens, Oh!
* * * * *
When you and I and Benny and all the others too,
Are called before the “final Board,” our course of life to view,
May we never “fess”5 on any point, but straight be told to go
And join the Army of the blest at Benny Havens, Oh!

Poe, however, was only one of many who disobeyed the regulations, but he
did not care for military life and made no effort to conceal his offenses.
Finally he was tried by court-martial. For two weeks prior to his trial he
neglected almost all of his studies as a cadet. Two of the specifications
against him were for absences from parades and roll calls and two for
disobedience of orders, but at the trial, he deliberately pleaded guilty to the
latter and not guilty to the former, the most patent and obvious of his
offenses. Whether or not he did this from a sense of humor, is not known,
but his action was not calculated to help him in the eyes of his superiors. He
was dismissed March 6, 1831. Four days later he wrote Major Thayer the
following letter:

Letter of Edgar Allan Poe, Lately Cadet, U. S. M. A., to the Superintendent:
1831.
(Original in the library U. S. M. A.)

New York,
Mar. 10, 1831.

Sir:
Having no longer any ties to bind me to my country—no prospects—nor
friends—I intend by the first opportunity to proceed to Paris with the view
of obtaining through the interest of the Marquis De La Fayette, an
appointment (if possible) in the Polish Army. In the event of the
interference of France in behalf of Poland this may easily be effected—in
all events it will be my only feasible plan of procedure.

The object of this letter is respectfully to request that you will give me such
assistance as may be in your power in the furtherance of my views.

A certificate of standing in my class is all that I may have a right to expect.

Anything further—a letter to a friend in Paris—or to the Marquis—would
be a kindness which I would never forget.

Most respectfully,
Yr. obt. st.
Edgar Allan Poe.
Poe, however, abandoned the plan and little more was heard of his
whereabouts by his friends at West Point.

The two other cadets under Major Thayer, were Jefferson Davis and Robert
E. Lee, but their history is too well known to bear repetition here. Suffice to
say that Jefferson Davis was mischievous and human enough as a cadet to
be court-martialed for an escapade.

The prosperity of the Academy continued in spite of its opponents in
Congress who, just prior to the Mexican War, came near accomplishing its
overthrow, but the brilliant achievements of its graduates in that conflict
silenced for a while their mutterings. Many young officers who served with
distinction in this war were later to win greater fame in the titanic Civil War.
Grant (class of ’43); Sherman (’40); Hancock (’44); Thomas (’40); Meade

(’35); Hooker (’30); Sedgwick (’37) participated in the campaigns against
the Mexicans.

The nation was given ample proof of the wisdom of Washington, Hamilton,
and Knox in their efforts to establish a Military Academy wherein officers
might be educated and trained to organize and discipline citizen soldiers,
and lead them to victory. At West Point today there are bronze cannon,
tattered flags, and mutilated flagstaffs, trophies of the Mexican War that
were presented to the Academy by General Winfield Scott, the
Commanding General of the Army, who stated, “as under Providence it is
mainly to the Military Academy that the United States became indebted for
those brilliant achievements and other memorable victories in the same war,
I have a lively pleasuring in tendering the seven trophies (semi-national) to
the mother of so many accomplished soldiers and patriots.”

The close of the Mexican War found the Military Academy the pet and idol
of the National Legislature. All of its requirements were solicitously studied
and plenty of funds were forthcoming to supply its wants. As time went on,
however, and no foe appeared at our door, the usual indifference on the part
of some toward military affairs, and the open hostilities of others, were
manifested. As before in its history, the Academy became the object of
numerous attacks, but it ignored them, continuing unobtrusively the
preparation of her cadets for their future work, little realizing how
important this work was soon to be.

In 1852, Brevet-Colonel R. E. Lee, Corps of Engineers, class of 1829, was
appointed Superintendent. Under his administration the course was
extended to include five years, embracing more English studies and
Military Law. A new riding hall was completed in 1855 which greatly
increased the opportunity for cavalry exercises. Colonel Lee, having
transferred to the Cavalry arm of the Service, was relieved as
Superintendent, April, 1855, because according to law at that time, only
Engineer officers could serve as Superintendent.

The year before Lee’s administration began, there entered West Point in
July, 1851, a cadet, James Abbott McNeill Whistler, aged sixteen years and
eleven months, destined to become one of America’s greatest artists.
Whistler remained three years at West Point when he was discharged for

deficiency in chemistry. In speaking in after years of his experiences with
this study, he said, “Had silicon been a gas, I would have been a Major-
General.” He was called up for examination in the subject of chemistry,
which also covered the studies of mineralogy and geology, and given
silicon to discuss. When called upon to recite, he stated: “I am required to
discuss the subject of silicon. Silicon is a gas.” “That will do, Mr. Whistler,”
said the Professor, and the artist soldier retired quickly to private life.

Another story was told of him in an examination in history. “What!” said an
officer who was his instructor, “you do not know the date of the Battle of
Buena Vista? Suppose you were to go out to dinner and the company began
to talk of the Mexican War, and you, a West Point man, were asked the date
of the battle. What would you do?”

“Do,” said Whistler, “why, I should refuse to associate with people who
would talk of such things at dinner.”

Although Whistler was not a success in defining silicon or remembering
dates, he excelled in drawing, standing at the head of his class. The
Professor of Drawing at the time was Robert W. Weir, an artist of no mean
ability himself and of generally recognized standing. For Whistler,
Professor Weir always had a high esteem on account of the unusual talent
he displayed in the drawing classes. Specimens of his work as a cadet are
still preserved at West Point.

In 1860, the rumblings of trouble over the slave question began to be heard
even in the secluded Highlands of the Hudson. At first the Southern and
Northern cadets ardently advocated the views of their respective States,
arguing with all of the warmth and enthusiasm of their young natures but
without any particular bitterness. Soon, however, the gathering of the war
clouds and the noise of the storm that was brewing brought the Southern
cadets face to face with a problem that of its nature was most difficult to
solve. Each one had sworn allegiance to the Government and taken an oath
to defend it against all enemies. What should they do? To remain and
support the Federal Government meant to fight against their own flesh and

blood, yet to resign was to break one’s sworn word. As a Southerner myself,
I have often reflected upon the mental suffering that those fellow cadets of
“the long grey line” must have experienced, trying to decide upon their
duty. General Schaff, in The Spirit of Old West Point, gives us a vivid
picture of those days at the Academy. So much has been written about the
cadets who left West Point to fight with the Southern forces that the
following data may prove interesting.

At the outbreak of the Civil War there were from the Southern States
eighty-six cadets. Of this number sixty-three resigned, from various causes
connected with the war, leaving twenty-one who remained loyal to the
Government. In the Army, it is a remarkable fact that of the officers of
Southern blood appointed from civil life, one half went with the
Confederacy, whereas only one fifth of the West Pointers went South. One
hundred and sixty-two Southern graduates withstood the terrible strain of
fighting their own people, and remained true to the flag.

Although up to the time of the Civil War no graduates of West Point had
been appointed to the rank of general officer, the war had not been in
progress a year before the country eagerly turned to men from the Academy
to lead its armies. In September, 1861, six of the eleven generals in the
Regular Army were graduates. At the conclusion of the war sixteen of the
seventeen Regular general officers of the line were graduates. Sixty-six
graduates rose during the war to the grade of major-general and 112 to that
of brigadier-general of volunteers, which means that more than one third of
the graduates engaged in the war rose to the grade of general officer. Nine
received the thanks of Congress for conspicuous gallantry.

Turning to the Confederate forces, we find a similar state of affairs. Of the
West Pointers in the Confederate service, eighteen were made full generals,
fifteen lieutenant-generals, forty major-generals, and eighty-eight brigadier-
generals. In command of all was Jefferson Davis, President of the
Confederacy, and a West Pointer.

The most famous West Pointer on the Union side was Ulysses S. Grant,
class of 1843, but scarcely less noted were Sheridan (’53), and Sherman
(’45). Other graduates whose services were most conspicuous follow:
George H. Thomas (’40), Meade (’35), Hooker (’35), Sedgwick (’37),

McClellan (’46), Halleck (’39), McPherson (’53), Rosecrans (’42), Warren
(’50), Pleasanton (’44), and Gregg (’55).

On the Confederate side we find Lee (’29), Early (’37), Jackson (’46), A. S.
Johnston (’26), A. P. Hill (’47), Daniel H. Hill (’42), and Longstreet (’42),
Ewell (’40), and Stuart (’54).

At the conclusion of the Civil War, a struggle between three million
combatants, all of the armies in the field on both sides were commanded by
graduates; nearly all of the corps; a large majority of the divisions; the staff
corps or organization of supply of both forces, and many of the brigades.
Every important battle of the war was commanded on one or both sides by a
graduate—generally both. This was the verdict of the end of the great
conflict after a test to which no other institution of learning has ever been
put.

After the Civil War the Academy began to drop out of public notice because
the people were more interested in the commercial development of the
country. Apathy on the part of the public has never, however, affected West
Point’s attitude toward its duty, so that year after year graduates were sent
forth to fight the Indians upon the Plains where they underwent great
hardships of which the country was ignorant.

Then came the Spanish War to test again the product of the Academy, but
the work of the graduates in Cuba and the Philippines gave ample proof that
the metal was still good and well stamped.

With the advent of Colonel A. L. Mills as Superintendent, the Academy
received a fresh impetus and many important changes were effected. The
Corps in 1900 was increased by one hundred cadets, hazing in all of its
forms was practically abolished after a long bitter fight, and elaborate plans
were inaugurated for the enlargement and rebuilding of West Point. In this
connection the late Colonel Charles W. Larned, Professor of Drawing,
distinguished himself. It is largely due to his indefatigable efforts and to the
foresight and ability of the late General Mills, and to the Secretary of War,
Elihu Root, that West Point has its magnificent new buildings. Their
construction extended over a long period, from 1904 to 1911, during which

time the courses were expanded and improved to meet the needs of our new
Army.

Once again the country is at war, this time with the most powerful and
resourceful enemy that our citizens have been called upon to face.

The graduates of West Point will prove as true to their traditions in this
struggle as they have in the past, and West Point knows that they will return
in triumph to their Alma Mater who ever stands ready to press the cup of
greeting to the lips of all honorable and loyal sons.

CHAPTER III
THE REALIZATION OF AN ARCHITECT’S DREAM

W HEN the springtime rolls around and the Hudson River is at its
best, the annual influx of visitors begins to arrive at West Point.
Trains and boats disgorge official visitors, tourists, boy scouts,
delegations of various brotherhoods and sisterhoods, and picknickers
galore. Little groups of them appear in all corners of the Post, in the area of
Barracks, on the Plain, in the Public Buildings, and along the famous
Flirtation Walk. Their chief interest, of course, is to catch a glimpse of the
cadets, either en masse or individually. When the Corps starts either to
meals or to dress parade, they gather along the sidewalks, or at the visitors’
seats to watch the marching. Some openly express their enthusiasm and
pleasure, genuinely delighted at everything they see, while others remain
silent and phlegmatic apparently taking only a languid interest in their
surroundings.

As I watch my fellow-countrymen strolling about the grounds of the
Academy, I often wonder what are their impressions of this institution. To
many, of course, the historic traditions of West Point, as well as its
functions and purposes, are thoroughly familiar, but to a vast majority West
Point is a closed book. They see the cadets, the drills, the buildings, perhaps
parade, but they never have an opportunity to acquaint themselves with the
intimate life of the Academy. They do not derive the full benefit from their
visit, because they are in the position of regarding the institution from the
outside. In many cases, the spirit of investigation is restrained by a feeling
of timidity upon their part, a feeling of awe in the face of military
surroundings.

The Army is so little known to the people in the United States, that, to the
average civilian, there seems to be some sort of mystery surrounding
military life, and the presence of a man in uniform, with a waist belt and

pistol, doing plain police duty, appears to act as a check on every natural
impulse. The pleasure of his visit is consequently marred to some extent
and he feels somewhat ill-at-ease. He wants to investigate with greater
freedom, but he shrinks from being told that his projects are “Verboten.”
Upon his departure he must of necessity have but a superficial idea of the
great work done at the Academy, unless he has been fortunate enough to
have some friend stationed at West Point who dissipates the apparently cold
atmosphere of military life.

I have often regretted, as I watched the crowds swarming around, that each
individual might not carry away a real appreciation of West Point, instead of
leaving with only the most superficial impressions. Unless one has
graduated from the Academy it is impossible to seize fully the spirit of the
institution, or have a clear idea of its intimate life. My long familiarity with
West Point, both as a cadet and as an officer, prompts me to portray for the
American people the history, aims, ideals, and spirit of their National
Military Academy.

Class Formation in the Area of Barracks

West Point seen for the first time from the river, whether in sunshine or
through the mists, is a sight not soon forgotten. The monumental Riding
Hall that rises out of the cliff of which it seems to form a part, first fixes the
eye, but as one’s glance wanders a little higher it drinks in the towering pile
of Post Headquarters; higher yet, the eye rests for a moment on the
crenelated border of the roof of the Academic Building, and then, higher
still, it pauses to contemplate the beauty of West Point’s crowning
architectural achievement, the Cadet Chapel. For a moment the beholder
seems withdrawn from the sordid material world, and filled with a
multitude of noble impressions. He experiences a spiritual uplift as he
admires the majestic simplicity and grandeur of the buildings, an
architectural triumph worthy to have inspired Ruskin’s beautiful thought,
“frozen music.”

When the Government determined to rebuild West Point, nearly fifteen
years ago, the presence of two fine buildings of Gothic design—the Library
and the Cadet Barracks—decided the style of architecture. These two
buildings ranked as perhaps the most successful examples of the Collegiate
Gothic that was much in vogue for educational institutions in the country
half a century ago. A limited competition was held for designs and all
architects who had distinguished themselves in Gothic work were invited to
participate. Several beautiful designs for a Renaissance treatment were
offered, but one group of architects, Cram, Goodhue, and Ferguson,
submitted drawings for so admirable a Gothic treatment that they received
the unanimous approval of a board of judges composed of eminent
architects. The construction of the new buildings lasted over a period of
about seven years, during which time the work was under the direction of
Colonel John M. Carson, Jr., Quartermaster, who was representing the
Government. In writing a book on West Point, any mention of the buildings
involves the name of Colonel Carson who performed his difficult work with
an unusual amount of zeal and intelligence. The result is that the new
buildings are splendidly constructed, and because the architects had an eye
for harmony these structures seem to grow out of the rocks upon which they
stand, emphasizing rather than detracting from West Point’s natural beauty.

The Administration Building

The north road from the station passes first, on the river side, the Power
House built of granite from local quarries. It is designed to supply the entire
institution with electricity for light and power, and the central buildings
with heat from exhaust steam. In a building of this nature, a factory-like
look would be taken for granted and pardoned, but, on the contrary, its
design is not only adapted for its function, but the building forms an
important link in the architectural whole. It assumes its place quite naturally
and modestly, almost unobtrusively in the natural landscape, tying the
buildings in the upper terrace with the base. The tall smoke-stack is cleverly
concealed within the walls of an imposing granite tower.

On a slightly higher level, and paralleling the river, is the Riding Hall
splendidly impressive with its broad flat buttresses. The latter seem almost
akin to the classic order, and serve in a very large measure to reconcile the
classicism of the neighboring Cullum Memorial Hall,—an exotic among its
surroundings—with the dominant Gothic of the place. The present Riding
Hall occupies the site of not only the old hall, but also of the old Cavalry
stables, and barracks. The old hall was built in 1855 and, for the number of
cadets at West Point during the ensuing fifty years, it was sufficiently large.
With the increase of the Corps of Cadets, and the quickened interest
throughout the Service in equitation, however, more spacious
accommodations for instruction were required. Usually when a building has
served a useful and honorable purpose for many years, its demolition is
generally viewed with regret. There was, however, no sentimental
attachment for the Riding Hall. Many a painful hour had cadets spent within
its walls learning to ride on the bare back of a raw-boned horse, or
floundering around in the spongy tanbark.

In the little plaza at the junction of the Power House and Riding Hall, the
road winds and passes under the mediæval arch of the Post Headquarters, or
Administration Building. At this point, the bulk and dignity of the buildings
are stupendous, and admiringly we stand, imprisoned, it would seem, in a
quadrangle of Middle Age fortresses, whose sternness and solemnity seem
symbolic of discipline and strength. The main entrance to the Riding Hall
branches from the road a few paces beyond the arch, the lower level of the
galleries being reached by a flight of steps that cling to the steep retaining
wall of the road. The great arena is 150 by 600 feet and is covered by a
cantilever roof, so that when the eye first encounters this interior, a
sensation of its vastness holds the spectator in its grip. The roof is mostly of
glass so as to afford a maximum of light, and the floor is covered with
tanbark to make more endurable any sudden and unexpected descent from
the back of a capricious beast. The building is steam-heated and electric
lighted, for during the winter months, equitation drills extend into the late
afternoon. The hall can be divided by curtains into three smaller halls, a
scheme that permits three classes to undergo instruction at the same time. In
one portion of the hall are stalls for one hundred mounts, but the majority of
the horses are kept at the cavalry barracks. The hall is so large that during
the winter months the U. S. M. A. Battery of Artillery uses it for a drill

ground, thereby keeping the horses in good condition and the men well
instructed. Moreover, the officers and cadets are enabled to keep up their
practice in polo. Every Wednesday and Saturday afternoon, teams of cadets
play each other, or try their skill against civilian opponents. Along the full
length of the west wall, and the north and south end, are balconies for the
accommodation of visitors who are welcome whenever the hall is open.

Administration Riding
Building Hall

Passing once more under the arch, we admire again for a moment the
graceful Herculean proportions of the Administration Building whose
imposing square tower, tipped with four smaller towers at the corners, rises
precipitately one hundred and sixty feet. It is an interesting fact in these
days of steel construction that this tower is built of solid masonry. At the
southeast angle of the building, on a level with the base of the main floor, is
an enormous eagle carved in granite, its head high, its wings outstretched
and flattened back proudly against the two sides of the edifice, as if

proclaiming to the world its mission of protection over the Academy whose
administrative heart is enclosed in this structure. As we ascend the stairway,
alongside the basement at the left, we pass a large Gothic window which
affords light to a vaulted hall used for courts-martial. The interior of this
hall is in keeping with the mediæval donjon appearance of the whole
building, and of such a chill and forbidding aspect as to inspire in the
accused a feeling of guilt, nolens volens. The flight of stairs mounts to the
level of the Post proper where an eastern view of the building is disclosed.
A large sally-port leads into the court around which the building is
constructed.

The exterior walls are ornamented with shields representing the coats-of-
arms of various states, territories, and foreign possessions prepared from the
official seals, and expressed according to the laws of Heraldry. The only
coat-of-arms of an individual is that of George Washington, at the top of the
east elevation of the courtyard. The obverse and reverse of the great seal of
the United States will be found above the east and west entrances,
respectively, of the sally-port. Flanking the obverse of the great seal are the
seal of the War Department and the device of the Corps of Engineers. In
addition to the shields, the devices of the various staff departments, usually
associated with a headquarters, have been placed in the sally-port. Two of
them, the Adjutant-General’s Department, and the Quartermaster’s
Department, are on shields on the north side of the sally-port, and the
Subsistence Department, Signal Corps, Pay Department, Ordnance
Department, Inspector-General’s Department, Judge-Advocate-General’s
Department, Medical Department, and Chaplain’s Corps, are on corbels at
the bases of the ribs of the arch.

Colonel Jonathan Williams, Corps of Engineers
First Superintendent of the Military Academy
From the Painting by Thomas Sully, Library U.S.M.A.

In the courtyard the names that are carved in the granite were selected for
the following reasons:

Williams Colonel Jonathan Williams, first Superintendent of the
Military Academy.
Swift Colonel Joseph G. Swift, first graduate of the Military
Academy.

Totten General Joseph G. Totten, the tenth graduate and ex-
officio the first inspector of the Military Academy while
serving as Chief of Engineers from 1838-1864.
Thayer Major Sylvanus Thayer, Father of the Military Academy.
Delafield Colonel Richard Delafield, Superintendent from 1856 to
1861, under whose administration much construction was
completed.
Jefferson Thomas Jefferson, third President of the United States,
during whose administration, 1801 to 1809, the Military
Academy was founded.
Monroe James Monroe, fifth President of the United States, 1817
to 1825, under whose administration the Military
Academy developed and was encouraged.

Upon the second floor is the Academic Board room, a Gothic hall
illuminated with stained glass windows containing emblems of the various
arts and sciences. The most striking feature of the room is the massive stone
mantel, modeled by Laurie and ornamented with statuettes of the world’s
greatest warriors.

The description of the statuettes and the reasons for selecting the subject are
given in a letter to Dr. Holden, late librarian, dated November 23, 1906. An
Advisory Board of officers recommended:

That the character of the figures on the mantlepiece be of a general
military type—historical or legendary—best suited to harmonize with
the architectural treatment and selected by the architects themselves
from the three lists in this letter of November 23, 1906.

The heads appearing at the top of the mantel—in the crenelations—have no
relation to the statuettes underneath. The small shields immediately below
the statuettes are, however, indicative of the subjects as follows:

Joshua. Sun and Moon—taken from the Biblical legend describing the
distinctly miraculous standing still of the Sun on the occasion of a certain
battle.

Hector of Troy. Mycenæan Scroll—a sort of triangular fylfot, which
stands for Mycenæan civilization. This device would apply equally to that
of Troy of which Hector was the greatest figure.

Colonel Joseph G. Swift
First Graduate of the Military Academy
From the Painting by Thomas Sully, Library U.S.M.A.

David. King of all Israel, warrior and psalmist—the harp—selected by the
architects instead of a little sling, especially since the head of Goliath is
under the foot of the figure above.

Alexander the Great. A conventionalized Gordian knot severed.

Julius Cæsar. The standard carried by the famous Roman Legions.

Charlemagne. King of the Franks—The imperial iron crown.

King Arthur of England. The Holy Grail, symbolizing the whole
purpose of his career.

Godfrey de Bouillon. Heraldic cross of Jerusalem of which city he was
king and which forms a part of his own coat-of-arms.

Judas Maccabeus. The hammer—which is the actual meaning of the
name “Maccabeus.”

In the mantel, the figures are arranged chronologically and historically.
Three of them, i. e., Hector, Alexander, and Cæsar, were Heathen; three
were Christians, viz.: Charlemagne, King Arthur, and Godfrey; and three
were Jews, viz.: Joshua, David, and Judas.

The choice of subjects was suggested to the architects by Caxton’s preface
to the first volume of Sir Thomas Malory’s Morte d’Arthur, from which the
following quotation covering the choice of the figures is taken:

For it is notorly known through the universal world, that there be nine
worthy and the best that ever were, that is to wit, three Paynims, three
Jews, and three Christian men. As for the Paynims, they were to-fore
the Incarnation of Christ, which were named, the first Hector of Troy,
of whom the history is comen both in ballad and in prose, the second
Alexander the Great, and the third Julius Cæsar, Emperor of Rome, of
whom the histories be well known and had. And as for the three Jews,
which were also to-fore the Incarnation of our Lord, of whom the first
was Duke Joshua which brought the children of Israel into the land of
behest, the second David, King of Jerusalem, and the third Judas
Maccabeus, of these three the Bible rehearseth all their noble histories
and acts. And since the said Incarnation have been three noble
Christian men, stalled and admitted through the universal world into

the number of the nine best and worthy. Of whom was first the noble
Arthur. The second was Charlemain, or Charles the Great, of whom the
history is had in many places, both in French and English. And the
third and last was Godfrey of Boloine.

Cadets at Equitation in the World’s Largest Riding Hall (600 ft. × 150 ft.)

Upon the same floor as the Academic Board room are the three offices of
the Superintendent, the Adjutant, and the clerks. The Headquarters building
houses, moreover, the offices of the Treasurer, the Quartermaster, the
printing shops, the Post Office, and the Ordnance Museum, the entrance to
which is at the left of the sally-port. Begun in 1854, the Museum has
throughout the years gathered some valuable trophies of war, interesting
relics, and models of the arms of all nations. Visitors are well repaid by a
visit to this interesting spot. Historic relics abound in the rooms. I might
mention among them a portion of the flagstaff that was at Fort Sumter in
1861; presentation swords belonging to distinguished American generals;

General Grant’s uniform and horse equipment; mementoes of the Philippine
insurrection and of the war with Spain, not to speak of a rare and beautiful
collection of weapons of all kinds. Not the least interesting part of the
exhibit are the trophies of the Revolution. In glass cases are preserved five
flags captured by the American army during the Revolution, two of which
were British royal colors, and three taken from the German mercenaries
sent over by King George. The former were taken at Yorktown. All these
flags were originally the property of General Washington by whom they
were bequeathed to George Washington Parke Custis, the son of his adopted
son, and grandson of Mrs. Washington. He in turn bequeathed them to the
War Department, which came into possession of them in 1858. The same
year Secretary Floyd presented them to the Academy.

Across the road from the Administration Building is the Cadet Mess. It is
one of the oldest buildings, the main part dating from 1850. The
architecture conforms in a general way to that of the new buildings. With its
broad pavement in front, it sets well back from the road, possessing not
only the dignity of its more imposing neighbors, but in addition a certain
quaint charm.

The large central doors give access to the main hall whose walls are hung
with portraits of distinguished graduates, chiefly the former Superintendents
of the Academy. Perhaps the most interesting painting is that of General
Robert E. Lee, who was Superintendent in 1852. Frequently I have heard
visitors express surprise that General Lee’s portrait should hang in the halls
of the National Military Academy, notwithstanding he was a graduate and
afterwards a Superintendent. The fact that he fought against the Union, they
argue, should preclude the bestowal of the honor. West Point, however,
considers that since we are a united people once more, his record should be
recognized by his Alma Mater from whom he learned the lessons that
brought him his fame and his glory.

Symmetrically arranged in the hall are the mess tables. They are made to
accommodate ten cadets, but occasionally, here and there, two tables are
shoved together for economy of floor space. At these tables are twenty
cadets. It is a pleasure to enter the Mess Hall prior to any meal. Every table
is immaculate with its snowy clean cloth, its polished cutlery, and shining

crockery. The cadets are not seated by classes but by companies, each
company having a certain number of tables in the section of the hall
assigned its battalion. As a rule, the ten messmates are made up of three
first classmen, two second classmen, two third classmen, and three fourth
classmen. The latter are given, by custom of the Corps, various duties to
perform at mess such as carving the meat, procuring the coffee and milk.

The Carved Mantel in the Hall of the Academic Board

Sculptor—Laurie
The Nine Great Warriors of the World

Note: There are also two figures on the sides, not visible

Three long passageways lead from the main dining-hall to the kitchen. At
first glance the super-cleanliness of the surroundings strikes the observer,
but his attention is soon attracted to the numerous clever devices for
cooking, and for saving time and labor. The preparation of the food for

cooking occurs outside of the kitchen proper. Each department prepares its
kind, whereupon it is carried to the chef to be cooked and served. The labor
of preparation is greatly reduced by the liberal use of machinery. A clever
electrical machine rapidly peels the potatoes, a whole bushel of them, in a
few minutes; other contrivances make and cut the bread, sterilize the milk,
freeze the ice-cream; and wash and dry the innumerable dishes. Without the
aid of these labor-saving devices it would be impossible to maintain such an
excellent mess for the cadets. Even now the capacity of the plant is tested
almost to its limit, and with the increase in the Corps to 1200 cadets, it will
be necessary either to enlarge the present Cadet Mess or to build a new hall.
The disappearance of the present Mess, Grant Hall, will be viewed with
great regret by many graduates who dined for four long years within its
really historic walls.

South of the Cadet Mess is the Hospital for cadets, a large granite building
perched on a terrace, well back from the road. It consists of a central
portion of three stories and basement, with two wings of two stories each
and basement. The older portions date from 1875, but the wings are of more
recent construction. The wings are practically detached from the main
portion of the building for the possible isolation of cases. The equipment is,
of course, modern in every respect. Each wing contains two wards, making
four in all, named respectively Cuyler, McElderry, McParlin, and Wheaton
in honor of former distinguished military surgeons on duty at West Point. I
do not suppose that there is a building on the Post which arouses in cadets
so many different kinds of feeling. To some it is a place to be avoided, but
to a large number, especially to those who succeed in entering for minor
ailments, it is viewed as a haven of rest. It is the one place where the cadets
are free from the irksome routine, where there is no reveille, and where the
convalescents revel in what appears to them epicurean feasts. Vatel, the
famous French chef, never enjoyed more renown than does the cook at the
hospital.

Almost every cadet has a secret longing to be in the hospital at least for a
short period during his course, and those who “break in” for slight ailments
are regarded with a special esteem by their fellows. One of the first adages
that a plebe learns at West Point is “faint heart never broke into the

hospital.” The surgeons, however, are pretty clever men and they size up the
situation very clearly in each case.

The North Cadet Barracks

I remember that upon one occasion when I was a cadet, a group of
convalescents were, one winter day, holding a mutual congratulatory
meeting in one of the wards, the burden of the conversation being their luck
and also their skill in remaining so long in this abode of rest. Arthur C——,
who was the most successful of the disciples of the “rest cure,” was perched
upon a bed explaining to an admiring line of heads in little snow-white cots,
the strategy necessary to remain in the ward, finishing his discourse
oratorically; “Some may come and some may go but I stay on forever!”
when the door opened and in walked the surgeon. Cadet C—— was next
day returned to duty.

The officer in charge of the hospital is the Post Surgeon, who is assisted by
three or four captains of the Medical Corps, and by several Dental

Surgeons. These officers are also in charge of the Soldiers’ Hospital, a
separate building for the enlisted men of the garrison, and are responsible
for the general health of the command.

The chief buildings of the Academy occupy relatively a small area of
ground. Just north of the Cadet Mess and flanking the main road are the two
Academic buildings, known as the East and West Academic. The East
building is new, having been completed in 1913, one of the last provided for
in the rebuilding of West Point. The West Academic building, which was
completed in 1895, is built of Massachusetts granite and cost about five
hundred thousand dollars. In this building are located the Departments of
Civil and Military Engineering, Mathematics, Law, Drawing, Ordnance and
Gunnery, and English and History; in the East building the Departments of
Modern Languages, Chemistry and Electricity, Natural and Experimental
Philosophy. The latter building is provided with the most modern lecture
rooms, electrical and chemical laboratories, besides a mineralogical and
geological museum. The major portion of both buildings contain the section
rooms for recitation purposes. Visitors are admitted if accompanied by an
officer.

The architecture of both of these buildings is Gothic, but that of the new or
East building is of a more exquisite beauty. Splendidly situated, it gives the
impression of bulk and mass, much the same feeling that one has in
regarding a dreadnought for the first time, but this impression soon gives
way to an appreciation of a certain delicacy of treatment, a simple dignity
that pleases. One of the best impressions of its beauty is obtained about
dusk when the evening mists dim its outlines and its surface is bathed in
shadows relieved only by the glimmering of the mediæval lanterns on either
side of the main door.

Immediately facing the center of the East Academic Building and across the
road, is a large opening known as a sally-port through which the sections of
cadets must march to recitations in the East Academic building. This
passageway connects the main road with the area of barracks, a space of
ground that derives its name from the brown-stone buildings that bound a
portion of its perimeter. Along one side is a cement walk on which the
cadets form to be marched to their recitations, and a sidewalk borders the

barracks. With the exception of a small plot of grass near the Academic
building the area is devoid of verdure, but is covered with a fine gravel that
gives a clean and well-groomed appearance to the ground. The word “Area”
has great connoting power. To a large number of cadets, it vividly brings to
mind the punishment tours that they wearily trudged on Wednesday and
Saturday afternoons across its surface. To the majority, however, it is the
“hub” of cadet life, the assembly place for recitations, sometimes for meals;
the scene of many an inspection or a guard mount, and most important of
all, it contains a small insignificant building with a clock tower where dwell
the Commandant of Cadets and his assistants, the Tactical officers.

The building on the north and west of the area is the South Cadet Barracks,
built in 1848. This edifice, of 360 feet frontage, is constructed of native
granite, with crenelations and cornices of red sandstone, and the
Elizabethan style of its architecture harmonizes perfectly with the Gothic of
the new buildings. In fact, the old Cadet Barracks is one of West Point’s
handsomest buildings. There are two hundred rooms in the building, 14 ×
22 feet, each planned to accommodate two cadets. It is completely supplied
with modern plumbing, heating, and electric lights. The barracks are
divided into divisions, each containing sixteen rooms. There is no lateral
communication between the divisions, but a certain number of them are
assigned to a company, according to its strength. At present the 1st Bn. Cos.
A, B, C, and D are quartered here.

I have often stood in the Area of Barracks and looked through the north
sally-port to enjoy the fine vista that it framed. A section of the Plain fills
half the picture, a beautiful foreground, either when resignedly spread out to
the heat of the Highland summer, or shivering under its fleecy blanket of
snow, over which the winter winds angrily blow. In the upper half against
the far-away background of the Highland hills is the slender flagstaff,
sometimes swathed in the folds of our national emblem, sometimes
resisting with all its strength the fluttering of its precious charge which
seems to implore its release to join the flight of the breeze.

As we leave the north sally-port and turn toward the angle between the two
sets of barracks, high on the hill the monumental Cadet Chapel, West
Point’s spiritual fortress, looms above with extraordinary effectiveness. It

has a fine site on a commanding spur just above the old Cadet Barracks on
the west, from which point it dominates the Post. It lies in the shadow of old
Fort Putnam of Revolutionary fame, and, built of stone quarried from its
own hill, it seems a part of its naturally beautiful surroundings.

The Chapel

This edifice is in reality a large church with a seating capacity of fourteen
hundred persons. In plan it is a crucifix, surmounted by a large central
tower whose parapet is 130 feet above the pavement of the interior and 420
feet above the level of the river. The tower contains two stories: the bell-
ringer’s story and the belfry above. There are as yet no chimes, but on
national holidays, Christmas morning, and Easter, the band mounts to the
bell-ringer’s story, and the airs appropriate for the day float out through the
louver windows in a weird and mysterious manner, as if some invisible
symphony was playing in the clouds.

Just above the stately clerestory windows, and around the cornice of the
building, is a row of carved figures, little bosses, representing the quest of
the Holy Grail. Over the door of the main entrance is a great two-handed
sword, Excalibur.

One should pause for a moment on the terrace in front of the main entrance
to enjoy the magnificent panorama. In the distance, flows the Hudson
winding among the Highland hills, and skirting the great Plain along whose
edge stand the Bachelor Building, Cullum Hall, and the Officers’ Mess.
Directly below, in the shelter of the chapel hill, are grouped all of the main
buildings pertaining to the cadets, the most conspicuous of which are the
barracks. Viewed from this height the arrangement of the buildings
resembles a regular nest, le nid des cadets.

A winding road back of the barracks leads to the Chapel. The interior of the
Chapel is 200 feet long, and across the transepts, 72 feet wide. The nave
contains fourteen large Gothic windows, now filled with temporary glass
but which will later be replaced with memorial windows.

The jewel of the interior is the great chancel window, with its noble
inscription:

Erected to the glory of the God of Battles and in faithful memory of
the departed graduates of the United States Military Academy, West
Point, by the living alumni.

The deep shades of purple and red give the window an extraordinary
richness. The best lights from the glass are obtained in the early afternoon
about four o’clock. It is of rare richness and beauty, and for subject, color,
and arrangement it is thought to be unexcelled in our country. There are
twenty-seven panels, each of which contains an almost life-size figure
representing one of the chief militant figures in the Bible. Services are held
in the Chapel every Sunday morning at a quarter before eleven and are
attended by cadets, officers, enlisted men, their families, and a large number
of visitors. In addition to the regular service in the Chapel, where the cadet
choir of one hundred and five voices is a feature, a series of organ recitals,
free to the public, is given each year.

The Interior of the Chapel

The organ is of unusually fine quality and is surprisingly effective for an
instrument of three manuals, or keyboards. But it is still incomplete, being
both undersized for this cathedral-like building and inadequate to the proper
performance of the finest music. The addition of a fourth manual, with its
pipes located in the gallery opposite the present organ, now eloquently
vacant, is needed to bring the musical part of the service and the recitals up
to the highest efficiency.

Upon the completion of the improvements contemplated the organ will
become one of the art glories of the country, and with the Chapel,—perfect
in architecture, surroundings, and acoustics—would create an atmosphere

of rare idealism. The acquisition of every new stop given is indicated by a
bronze tablet placed upon the console, or key desk, of the organ. The
significance of such tablets would make this organ and console unique, not
only in establishing historic traditions but also in affording substantial
encouragement to the volunteer organist and to the choir.

The opportunity here presented is most worthy for anyone desirous of
establishing a memorial to a graduate of the Academy, for a graduate
wishing to honor the memory of one of his immediate family, for a class
gift, or for anyone interested in furthering an artistic influence over the lives
of the future officers of the Army of our country.

To assist in the completion of the organ, a fund, known as the “Organ Fund”
has been started, which is kept alive by recital offerings, private
subscriptions, and proceeds from sale of “The Corps,” a popular West Point
song.

In the transepts are galleries but they are not at present equipped with seats.
Along the nave also are covered galleries, almost hidden from view by the
suspended flags.

A request made to the sexton will enable the visitor to see the crypt, a
vaulted room beneath the Chapel that is designed to be the final resting
place of West Point’s illustrious military dead.

To care for the spiritual welfare of the cadets and other residents of the Post,
there is a Chaplain who is appointed by the President. His term of office is
for four years, but he is usually re-appointed.

The location of the Chapel makes it visible from many places on the Post.
In walking around the grounds, every once in a while an extraordinarily
effective view of the fine building strikes the beholder. Each glimpse seems
more beautiful than the previous one, and a general impression remains that
the Chapel holds a spiritual dominion over the institution. Every corner of
the main part of West Point seems under its influence. This feeling is
particularly strong as we stand on the sidewalk between the old and new
Cadet Barracks and gaze at this monumental pile of ethereal beauty that
seems to lose itself in the sky. I never view the Chapel from this point

without thinking of one of Maxfield Parrish’s imaginative paintings of the
Arabian Nights.

In the southwest angle of the Plain, from where I like to view the Chapel, is
a white granite statue of Major Sylvanus Thayer, class of 1808. The funds
for this modest but beautiful monument, which was unveiled June 11, 1883,
were contributed by loyal graduates of the Academy and by loving friends.
General Thayer was Superintendent of the Academy from 1817 to 1833. He
was the first to establish a real curriculum, and so valuable were his
services that he has since been called “the Father of the Academy.” The
body of the distinguished officer was brought from South Braintree, Mass.,
and reinterred in the Post cemetery on November 8, 1877. The sculptor of
the monument was Carl Conrad.

On the west side of the Plain is the North Cadet Barracks, one of the new
buildings completed in 1908. The Gothic style employed in the treatment of
this building, while resembling somewhat that of the old barracks, has more
dignity, beauty, and grace. Not enough difference exists between the two to
cause any lack of harmony. Chief among the changes made in the new
barracks are the windows which are triple instead of single. As far as the
interior is concerned the arrangement is identical. Modern plumbing has
been installed in the old barracks to conform to its new neighbor, so that the
cadets of today are no longer obliged to run down to the area to draw their
water from the hydrant. The very mention of this ancient and picturesque
custom brings back many memories, chiefly centered around reveille on a
bitterly cold morning. Immediately upon the dismissal of the ranks, hordes
of cadets (it seemed to me), clustered around one poor little hydrant from
which a thin stream of icy water trickled into the papier maché buckets.
Now, upon each floor of barracks are faucets with hot and cold water! I
wish that I were a cadet again!

No one would judge the building to be a military barracks. Rather, a study
of its lines would suggest that it was the home of some religious order. It
has an undeniable ecclesiastical character that impresses one immediately. I
have always derived great pleasure in contemplating its beauty and my
imagination at these times fancies it as the refuge, the shelter, the sanctuary
of a body of men separated from the material affairs of the world. It seems

made to house only the best and noblest in nature, to be the environment
from which high ideals receive their greatest inspiration. A group of happy
smiling cadets coming out of their rooms at this moment tells me that my
imagination has been dwelling upon reality and not wandering into fantastic
fields. This building is indeed the home of a splendid Order, the inspiring
order of young manhood, clean-minded and honorable, trained in a school
where they are taught the most scrupulous regard for the truth, and where
they are given a mens sana in corpore sano.

In the quadrangle the light brick facing gives, in all sorts of weather, a
bright cheerful aspect, a sunny appearance, that contrasts in a most
welcome manner with the gloom of the quadrangle of the old barracks.

Set well back from the Plain, and to the north of the new barracks, is the
Gymnasium. It is not built of granite like its neighbor, the new barracks, but
has received from the hands of the architect an artistic and interesting
treatment of brick and limestone. The broad wall-like surface of the front is
broken by six flat buttresses, whose terminals are richly decorated. Viewing
the building from the southeast corner these buttresses appear like giant
sentinels, fine specimens of the building’s physical development. Far across
the parade ground the Bachelor Officers’ quarters, of similar design, serves
with the Gymnasium to link in one harmonious whole the old and new
buildings surrounding the Plain.

The second story is devoted to the gymnasium proper. It is lighted by large
skylights, and equipped with every possible device for physical
development. The remainder of the building houses a fine natatorium, 77
feet wide and 92 feet long, with a swimming-pool 40 feet wide and 80 feet
long; a fencing-room, a boxing-room, a wrestling-room, besides the
necessary dressing-rooms for both cadets and officers. In the basement is a
shooting gallery for indoor rifle and pistol practice.

North of the Gymnasium and fronting the Plain, are the quarters of the
Superintendent of the Academy, an interesting old house that dates from
1820. Surrounding the house is a quaint old ironwork porch of later date,
but old enough to be a curiosity today. A well-proportioned central hall
gives access to charming suites of spacious rooms on both sides of the
quarters, but the suite on the left is the more beautiful for it offers a

fascinating vista of three large rooms terminating in a conservatory filled
with exotic plants. Delightful hospitality has been dispensed in these rooms
to some of the most noted people in the world. Royalty, distinguished
foreigners, civilians, and soldiers, noted American men and women are
constantly visiting West Point to inspect the school and are always
entertained by the Superintendent. If the walls of these quarters could speak
they would relate some interesting incidents of the official life of West
Point. The beauty of the rooms is today enhanced by a number of fine
family portraits, painted by Thomas Sully, and the property of the present
Superintendent, Colonel John Biddle, Corps of Engineers.

At any official function the guests usually crowd the fascinating old porch
to watch the evolutions of the cadets upon the Plain opposite, or sometimes
they indulgently stand on the front stone steps to pose for the breathlessly
impatient movie men and photographers. The quarters are surrounded by
beautiful, well-kept lawns and tall graceful elm trees.

A traveler may go far before he will behold so majestic a view as that of the
Hudson River from Trophy Point and Battle Monument. For pure beauty it
is unsurpassed. In the distance lies the city of Newburg, against a dim
background of the Shawangunk Mountains, and in the foreground the little
village of Coldspring nestles close to the side of rugged Breakneck. On the
opposite side Cro’s Nest descends abruptly to the water. At this spot the
Hudson seems to be surrounded on all sides by land so that the beholder
might well imagine himself in Europe among the Italian Lakes.

Upon this spot are a number of trophies, among the most interesting of
which is a portion of the old chain that, during the Revolutionary War, was
stretched across the river from just above Gee’s Point to Constitution Island
to prevent the passage of the British ships.

On a wooden carriage is a large Armstrong gun, captured at Fort Fisher
during the Civil War, and nearby are many other guns taken in the Mexican
and Spanish Wars. The Swartzkopf torpedo inclosed in an iron railing was
captured from the Spanish cruiser Viscaya in the war with Spain, and the
twenty-pound stone ball was brought from Smyrna, Turkey.

The polished monolith of granite nearby upon whose tip stands winged
“Fame,” poised with trumpet and outstretched wreath, is Battle Monument.
The names which may be read upon its rolls are the victims of the Regular
Army of 1861, to whose memory their comrades in arms have created this
beautiful memorial.

IN MEMORY
OF THE
OFFICERS AND MEN
OF THE
REGULAR ARMY OF THE UNITED STATES
WHO FELL IN BATTLE DURING THE
WAR OF THE REBELLION
THIS MONUMENT IS ERECTED BY THEIR
SURVIVING COMRADES

In the words of the late Colonel Larned, “this memorial was not built by a
grateful country, but by voluntary offerings from the hard-won pay of
comrades in the field within hearing of the roar of battle, and in sight of the
dead whose memory it preserves.... It is but right to add that the designer,
Stanford White, and the sculptor, Frederick MacMonnies, have given a
generous and enthusiastic labor to the work, far beyond the money
recompense received, and in the true spirit of the artist and patriotic
citizen.”

View up the Hudson River from Trophy Point

Toward the east is an equestrian bronze statue of the Father of our Country,
seated upon his charger and with hand raised toward the Academy buildings
as if in benediction of the institution that he labored so hard to establish. In
these days of materialism, it is interesting to note that this magnificent gift
was recently made to the Academy by someone who refused to disclose his
name. The base of the pedestal bears the simple inscription “Presented by a
Patriotic Citizen.”

The hotel, just in the rear of the Washington Monument, was built in 1829,
and with the exception of a wing that was added in 1850, it has remained
practically unchanged. It is not difficult to imagine, therefore, that its
appointments fail to satisfy the luxurious tastes of present-day Americans,
so that many complaints are heard, and not a few jokes passed at its
expense. One humorist remarked that Washington was raising his hand not
in benediction of the Academy, but in a warning to the guests to keep away
from the hotel.

From the hotel, a steep little graveled path entices the visitor into a most
enchanting walk that skirts the steep precipice along the river. For three-
quarters of a mile, Flirtation Walk pursues its way with its windings and
abrupt turnings, its ascents and descents, past the site of the old chain
Battery, and farther on past old Lantern Battery on Gee’s Point, past the
Bachelor Officers’ quarters, until at the base of Cullum Hall it ends in
Kosciusko’s Garden. The latter is a cool little sheltered plateau, said to have
been a favorite of the Pole. When the trees are in bloom, to stroll along the
Walk is to feel the delicacy of nature, to behold the quintessence of her
refinement. The foliage seems like maiden-hair fern through which
charming little vistas of the river and the opposite bank are framed. On
summer days it is a favorite for the cadets and their girls, who wander along
its graveled path whiling away the time, or who seek out the choice nooks
and screen themselves from profane eyes with a gaily colored parasol.

Near the end of Flirtation Walk alongside of old Battery Knox, a
Revolutionary relic, stands the Bachelor Officers’ quarters. This building of
brick and limestone, serves to tie the new buildings with the classic Cullum
Memorial Hall and the Officers’ Mess. Its color is darker than the pink
granite of Cullum Hall, to approach more closely the dark brown of the
Library and the gray of the Academic, while its flat buttresses harmonize
with the straight lines of Memorial Hall.

Photo White Studio

“Spooning” on Flirtation Walk

In this building there are forty suites of three rooms and a bath each, besides
rooms in the basement for the janitor and for officers’ servants.

Adjoining the Bachelor Officers’ quarters is the beautiful Cullum Memorial
Hall, built of Milford pink marble and resembling somewhat in style, the
Erechtheum, on the Acropolis at Athens. Just under the cornice and above
the four Ionic columns is carved: “To the Officers and Graduates of the
Military Academy.” To the left of the main hall is a small assembly room,
whose walls contain bronze tablets to graduates who have been killed in

action. The flags are guidons, carried by our Cavalry, both regular and
volunteer, during our wars, chiefly during the Spanish War.

In the lower halls are tablets to Superintendents and to the deceased
Professors of the Academy, besides fitting bronze memorial shields,
recounting the battles of the Civil War in which graduates of the Academy
participated.

Bronze trophy cannon are freely used in the adornment of the walls, both in
the lower hall and in the hall on the second floor. They are chiefly Mexican
and Confederate trophies, but a few were captured from the British at Stony
Point (south of West Point) in July, 1779.

Among the most interesting perhaps of the cannon are the two large bronze
ones in front of the main entrance. Both were made at Douay, France, in
1755, under the supervision of J. Béranger, royal commissioner of
foundaries. The one on the right (as one enters the building) is inscribed “Le
Fâcheux,” and the one on the left “Le Conquérant.” Both were taken from
the Punta Blanca Battery in the harbor of Santiago de Cuba. These cannon
are almost the exact duplicate of the five cannon at the United States Naval
Academy, Annapolis, Md., and very similar to two cannon at the Virginia
Military Institute, Lexington, Va. The latter guns, cast about eighty years
before the others, are part of several cannon purchased from France by
Virginia in 1778 for use in the Revolutionary War. It is surprising that the
Spanish should have been using them in Cuba, since the Spaniards
manufactured guns of equally high quality.

The four inverted bronze mortars that surmount the corners of the piazza
were made, two at Sevilla and two at Barcelona, in Spain, and were
surrendered by the Mexicans to the American forces, April 22, 1847. These
mortars were known as stone mortars, and they were employed in siege
operations to precipitate large masses of stone upon the heads of the enemy
in the advanced trenches, or in like manner to clear the trench of its
defenders preparatory to an assault.

The second floor is called Thayer Hall, a large, beautifully proportioned
room used for public functions, officers’ and cadets’ dances. At one end
there is a small stage and a few scenic fixtures. In this hall are the portraits

of graduates who have not only gained the rank of general officer, but have
commanded in time of war units commensurate with their rank.

The building south of Memorial Hall is the Officers’ Mess, where the
bachelor officers obtain their meals. The building was constructed and
partially furnished from Government funds, but it is kept up and managed
by personal funds of officers on duty at West Point. In design it conforms
closely to Cullum Hall, although plainer and more modest. It was so built as
to be inconspicuous and not detract from the classic beauty of its stately
neighbor.

The interior of the Mess is quite beautiful, especially the main dining-hall
and reading-room, whose principal features are mantels ornamented with
small replicas of the figures of Day and Night, Morning and Evening, that
adorn the tomb of the Medicis in Florence. Both Cullum Hall and the Mess
were designed by the late Stanford White and completed, the former in
1899 and the latter in 1903. The Mess is an organized body incorporated
under the laws of the State of New York as the West Point Army Mess. It
was started in 1841 by General McClellan. There is no Mess in our Army
that has had a continued existence for so long a term as this Mess, and I
have heard it stated that few English or continental Messes are as old in the
above sense.

The trip around the buildings brings us to the Library for which we all
entertain a genuine affection. The quiet and repose of its fine rooms have an
attraction for both officers and cadets that no other building offers, so that it
is usually filled with lovers of books, especially on winter afternoons.
Cadets, officers, enlisted men, women, and children frequent the various
rooms whenever an opportunity presents itself. There is no greater pleasure,
I believe, at West Point than to draw a big leather armchair over in one
corner of the library and there forget the world in a good book.

Like so many of the buildings at West Point it was built of native granite,
and in the Gothic style of architecture. The present building was erected in
1841 on the site of the old gun shed and cost approximately $50,000. It was,
however, entirely remodeled in 1900-1901. The Library was originally
designed by a board of Army officers and the style of architecture
determined upon was used seven years later in the present South Cadet

Barracks. The dominant note that these two buildings gave to the character
of the structures at West Point, determined the style of architecture in the
comprehensive rebuilding of the Academy that began in 1904.

The library proper was founded in 1812, and with the years has grown until
at the present time it contains 99,148 books. I am informed that the 100,000
mark will be celebrated by the purchase of a memorable volume. The
Library may be said to be the oldest inhabitant of the neighborhood, for all
its former associates, the old Riding Hall, the Cavalry Barracks, and the old
Cadet Chapel are gone.

The latter building, however, has not permanently disappeared. Sentiment
against its demolition was so strong that an appropriation was obtained to
remove it to the cemetery to be used as a mortuary chapel. Consequently in
1911 it was taken down, each stone marked, and so carefully reconstructed
that it is impossible to detect the slightest change in its appearance. The
tablets, and the painting of “Peace and War” by the late Professor Weir have
been preserved, but the British flags have been removed to the Ordnance
Museum.

The cemetery is a beautiful, peaceful spot set aside for the repose of West
Point’s dead. In the northeast angle is the cadet monument erected in 1818,
to Cadet Vincent M. Lowe of New York, by his fellow-cadets. On New
Year’s day, 1817, Cadet Lowe was killed by the premature discharge of a
cannon while he was firing a salute. The pedestal is covered with the names
of other cadets who died later on. Among the illustrious dead buried in the
cemetery are Major Sylvanus Thayer, General Winfield Scott, Robert
Anderson, and George A. Custer.

Along the main roads both north and south of the Plain are modest
dwellings furnished for the officers on duty at West Point. The south end
terminates in a broad plain used for the Cavalry and Field Artillery drill of
the cadets.

In order that thorough instruction in both of these arms may be imparted to
the cadets, detachments of Cavalry and Field Artillery are stationed at the
Academy. Their barracks and stables form part of the new buildings, and
are fine examples of what intelligence and taste can do for comfort and

convenience. Along the west side of the drill field are the stables and,
directly above, gracefully placed on the hillside, are the barracks provided
with the best and most modern equipment. The presence of these two
detachments of enlisted men, as well as that of the detachment of
Engineers, is absolutely essential to the efficient instruction of the cadets.

An understanding of the uses of the buildings and some description of the
prominent landmarks is necessary to a correct appreciation of the cadet’s
life and activities. The survey that I have given in this chapter will show
that West Point is indeed fortunate in many ways. Few places have been so
endowed by Nature with such wonderful beauty and picturesqueness, and,
in addition, a generous Congress has adorned the place with magnificent
buildings equipped with the finest that money can buy for the training of the
future United States officers.

CHAPTER IV
THE POWERS THAT BE

I N a spacious room in the southeast corner of the massive Post
Headquarters building dwells officially the man who orders all of the
comings and goings of the residents of West Point: cadets, officers, and
enlisted men and their families. He is detailed by the President to the
immediate government and military command of the Academy and Post of
West Point for a period of four years, and given the official title of
Superintendent of the Military Academy, which carries with it the rank, pay,
and allowances of a colonel.

The duties of the office are varied and complex. The Superintendent is
directly responsible for the actual state of the discipline, instruction, police
administration, fiscal affairs, and other concerns of the Academy. The
necessary work is organized and under the control of various officers, his
assistants, who constitute his staff. The office of Superintendent is regarded
as one of the most desirable and most honored that the Government has to
offer to an officer of the Army, and justly so, for the position carries with it
a great responsibility, fascinating work, large powers, and enormous
prestige. The President is in no way limited in his selection for the office.
He may appoint an officer of any rank whatsoever, from second lieutenant
to general officer, but the policy always pursued has been to intrust the
important duties of the position to an officer of character, ability, and
experience. The selection of the Superintendents of the Military Academy
was confined to the Corps of Engineers from the establishment of the
institution, March 16, 1802, till the passage of the law of July 13, 1866,
which opened it to the entire Army. It is not an easy task to find just the
man with all of the necessary requirements for this office. In addition to the
officer’s military ability, grasp of affairs, and experience, it is desirable that
his scholarly attainments be of a distinctly high order, for, since he is ex-

officio the President of the Academic Board, he will find occasion to use his
scholarship for the permanent benefit of the curriculum.

In general, the military demands upon the average officer’s time preclude
the pursuit, on his part, of cultural and academic studies to any great degree,
so that, while an officer may be of the highest moral character, have great
experience, and on the whole make an admirable administrative chief, yet
he might lack scholarship, which deficiency would lessen his value to the
Academy as Superintendent.

Besides, the Superintendent should be a good judge of human nature, and in
particular of young men. To be able to throw oneself back in memory to the
age of twenty, re-grasp the fresh and immature viewpoint of youth, and then
make the proper allowances for youth’s inability to see life as a whole, is a
gift not given to many men. Some of us could do it if we would exert our
minds, but many are incapable. Where sympathy and understanding of
young men are lacking on the part of the commanding officer there is too
often a tendency to judge a cadet by the standard held by his superiors
which they have gained only through years of experience. Moreover, a
broad man in command dissipates with a word all of the trivialities of
military life that seem big for the moment, and relieves his subordinates of
the haunting fear of an excess of participation in their affairs.

During the one hundred and fifteen years of its existence West Point has had
but twenty-six Superintendents, each of whom has left a permanent
influence for good at the Academy. The present incumbent, appointed in
June, 1916, is Colonel John Biddle, Corps of Engineers, a graduate of West
Point, Class of 1881.

The military staff of the Superintendent consists of the Adjutant, the
Quartermaster, the Treasurer, and the Surgeon, all officers of the Army
detailed to perform the duties of their respective offices.

The Adjutant is the Superintendent’s right-hand man. He is in fact his chief
spokesman and representative in all official and social matters. He is,
moreover, charged with all of the records and papers of the Academy except
those relating to disbursements. Ordinarily, this officer is the personal
choice of the Superintendent, for it is essential that perfect trust and

harmony exist between these officers. It may be of interest to the layman to
know that an Army Post is very much like a large family, or perhaps a
patriarchal tribe would better describe the relations of the residents. The
Superintendent is the head, and the Adjutant his executive officer.

In the olden days when troops were stationed on isolated frontier posts, the
officers’ families were entirely thrown upon one another for society.
Although the necessity for these posts has long since disappeared, Congress
has never authorized their abandonment, because their presence near some
city or small town means a financial benefit to the towns people. The
influence of the Representative of that district is sufficient to retain it, and
consequently, as of yore, officers’ families must live together as one tribe.

This condition does not exist to the same extent at West Point as at other
posts. The Adjutant is the peacemaker, diplomat, aide, buffer for the
Superintendent in his administration of military and social duties. As may
be imagined, he must be a man of great tact, good judgment, and possessed
of Machiavelian diplomacy. He is always being called upon to make
decisions, and since every decision affects somebody adversely, he has
great need of a feeling for humanity. His official decision is tantamount to
that of the Superintendent in whose name he is always supposed to act.

The Superintendent’s Quarters
Built in 1820

All official letters to the Superintendent, or between officers, must pass
over the Adjutant’s desk, so that in a sense he is the central operator,
making connections of the invisible ties for the time being, between the
various departments and persons on the Post. He also acts as a shield to the
Superintendent, saving him from the annoyance of the minor routine
details.

In addition, he is regarded as the hub of the Post’s social wheel. He initiates
the public entertainments and authorizes the general social events of the
officers and cadets. Naturally, he has nothing to do with functions of a
private character, but for hops, dances, or other forms of distraction where
one of the public buildings is used, he gives the authorization of the
Superintendent. He makes it his duty to mingle freely with the officers of
the command; at the dances he sees that visitors are introduced; when very

distinguished guests arrive at the Post, he puts on his full-dress uniform and
goes to the station to meet them. If the guests are merely distinguished, he
details some officer to act in his stead, and if they are plain sightseers with
letters of introduction, a young subaltern gets the job. He is Adjutant of the
Military Academy and of the Post of West Point. The duties of the former
office pertain solely to cadets, their discipline and instruction, whereas the
duties of the latter concern the officers, enlisted men, and other residents of
the Post.

A sort of Damon and Pythias are the Adjutant and Quartermaster: a mention
of one suggests the other. The Quartermaster is in charge of the public lands
and buildings; of the material for the erection of buildings, and for the
repairs and improvements, and for all other public property for which no
other person is especially responsible. Under the direction of the
Superintendent, he enters into contracts and makes purchases for the
Academy and prepares all accounts, returns, and rolls relative to the public
property under his charge. He is also in control of the workmen employed
in the erection or repairs of the public buildings, or in the improvement of
the grounds.

A Quartermaster is in reality a supply officer. Everything necessary for the
up-keep of the Post and the command, come from his storehouses. Clothes,
trucks, wagons, frying-pans, rakes, road-rollers, twine, furniture, garden
hose are a few of the diverse articles that he must keep on hand. In his work
at West Point he is assisted by several officers, among whom he distributes
the various duties pertaining to the care of the property, purchase of
supplies, pay of officers and enlisted men. The supply of the cadets,
however, is not under his jurisdiction.

Colonel John Biddle, Corps of Engineers
Superintendent

The Quartermaster’s office is not entirely free from the official cumbersome
machinery and red tape that clogs all Government branches. So efficiently
does it check up upon all of its property, even to the most minute screw, that
it has inspired great respect for its routine into those who borrow from its
storehouse. Some years ago, one of the officers’ wives discovered the
chimney of her house on fire. As she lived near the Hospital her first
thought was to borrow one of the fire extinguishers. She rushed to the
telephone:

“Hello! Hello! send over right away a fire extinguisher to Lieut. K’s
quarters!”

“I’m sorry, madam,” replied the attendant, “I have no authority to let the
fire extinguisher leave the Hospital.”

“But my house is on fire!” shrieked the angered lady! “What shall I do?”

“You had better telephone the Quartermaster, madam, and get his
permission, for the Hospital holds the fire extinguisher on memorandum
receipt.”

All matters that relate to the clothing, equipment, and subsistence of the
cadets, including the purveying and supervision of the Cadet Mess, are
under an officer of the Army detailed as Quartermaster and Commissary for
the Corps of Cadets and Treasurer of the United States Military Academy.

The Government allows each cadet $600 per year and one ration per day, or
commutation thereof, 40 cents per day, making a total of $746.00, but the
cadet never receives in cash nor manages, his pay. The amount due him is
turned over to the Treasurer, who keeps an account with each cadet in
which he credits him with his monthly pay and charges him with the cost of
his maintenance on a pro-rata basis plus what he has spent for clothing and
supplies. The Treasurer furnishes each cadet an itemized statement of his
account at the close of each settlement period so that he knows just how
much money he has saved, or owes. The pay provided is ample. Cadets who
are economical and take good care of their clothes, who lose no government
property for which they are responsible, are able to accumulate a nice
balance that is paid to them upon graduation.

In order, however, to insure that all cadets shall leave the Academy without
debts, and with their initial equipment paid for, the Treasurer deposits
fourteen dollars per month from the pay of each cadet. This fund is known
as the Equipment Fund and totals $704 during the four years. Before
graduation each cadet is required to submit a certificate to the effect, if such
be the case, that all articles of an officer’s uniform ordered and received by
him have been paid for; that, in case the complete outfit has not been
received and paid for, he has in his possession $475 or that amount less

whatever has been paid out for this purpose, which sum will be held and
applied promptly to the payment of such articles of his uniform and
equipment as have not yet been received and paid for; and that he has no
unpaid debts contracted during the time he has been a cadet.

This provision is a very wise and beneficial one to the cadet, for he enters
the Service free from the terrifying load of debt. Formerly the Equipment
Fund was turned over to the graduating cadet, without any restrictions
whatsoever. The consequence was that the largest part of it was spent in
New York a few days after graduation, and the young officer was in debt for
his uniform for many months thereafter. He started his career with a
millstone around his neck, to which weight a few added that of a wife. As
one experienced officer remarked, “The ladies are all right, but do not
marry until you are out of debt, else every time you take a drink in the Club,
you will feel as if you are swallowing the baby’s socks.”

One of the most important and difficult duties of the Treasurer is catering to
eight hundred ravenous young appetites. To be a successful Mess officer for
this large number requires much study, especially in this age of the high
cost of supplies. The food provided is excellent in quality and well
prepared. In general it is plain and wholesome, just what one would expect
at a Military School, but the menu is sufficiently varied so as to please even
the fastidious. Southern palates are not forced to long for fried chicken nor
Eastern palates for oysters. To make the New Englander feel quite at home
periodic boiled dinners gladden their gastronomic lives. Then, too, ice-
cream, since the installation of an electric freezer, has become as common
as the proteids.

The monthly cost of the mess per cadet is about twenty dollars. The
Treasurer charges against the cadet not only the cost of his board, but also
his laundry, his uniforms, his clothing, his room equipment, mattress,
pillows, sheets, towels, and all other necessary articles. Moreover, the
salaries of the policemen who clean the halls of the barracks, the
bootblacks, the cost of the cadet hops, athletics, and text-books, in fact, the
cadet’s entire maintenance is charged against his pay. The Government,
however, provides for the up-keep of the buildings, the heating, lighting,
and repairs, from separate appropriations.

The fourth member of the military staff is the Surgeon, who with his four
assistants, medical officers of the Army, watch over the health of the
command. Under his charge is the hospital for cadets, and that for enlisted
men.

The Surgeon has authority to excuse an officer or cadet from any duty
whatsoever on account of illness. In the eyes of the cadets he stands as the
guardian of the Gates of Paradise. When the body is fatigued, or one’s head
is choked up and eyes running from a bad cold, illnesses that in reality do
not incapacitate one for duty, to have a nice sympathetic Dr. St. Peter jingle
his keys and take you into the hospital for a brief rest is like the first whiff
of a jasmine scented spring. The cadets soon learn to estimate the
sympathetic qualities of a new Surgeon, and quickly pass around the word
whether there has commenced the reign of an adamantine or tender
Æsculapius.

The officers and cadets are required to undergo an annual physical
examination, of which accurate records are kept. In case of illness, the
nature is noted on special cards and filed with his record in Washington.
The health, therefore, of officers, cadets, and enlisted men is constantly
under the Surgeon’s eyes, so that really serious illnesses are rare. In case of
persistent or long illness, the officer or cadet may be granted a sick leave
upon the Surgeon’s recommendation.

The conduct of the business methods and military departments of the
Military Academy, by the Superintendent and his staff, is annually inspected
by the Inspector-General of the Army, who comes on from Washington for
the purpose, or by officers recommended by him acting under specific
instructions from the War Department. In addition to the above inspection, a
Board of Visitors annually visits the institution. Formerly, the President
appointed to this Board distinguished citizens from all parts of the country,
who arrived at West Point the first of June and remained until graduation,
about ten days later. They were shown the workings of the school, and had
explained to them the necessities for changes and improvements,
whereupon they made to the President a written report containing
comments and recommendations that seemed desirable. The Board
performed its duties well, but Congress thought that all information, upon

which appropriations are based, should be more direct. A law was passed
therefore decreeing that:

The Board of Visitors to the United States Military Academy shall
consist of five members of the Committee on Military Affairs of the
Senate, and seven members of the Committee on Military Affairs of
the House of Representatives, to be appointed by the respective
chairmen thereof, who shall annually visit the said Military Academy,
together or separately as the said committee may elect, during the
session of Congress; ... It shall be the duty of the Board of Visitors to
inquire into the actual state of the discipline, instruction, police
administration, fiscal affairs, and other concerns of the Academy.

With the passing of the visits in June of the former Board, some of the
picturesqueness and flavor of the social life of June week has gone. At this
season of the year the beautiful natural scenery of West Point formed a
superb setting for the thrilling artillery drills, the cavalry charges, the
infantry manœuvres, the bridge building, the concerts, the dances arranged
in their honor. The cadets were at their best for they had just completed
their spring training and there were no recruits in ranks to spoil the
smoothness and precision of these manœuvres. It therefore seemed the best
time for an Inspection Board to view and report upon the work.

Accompanying the Board of Visitors were always the wives and daughters
of the members, who added to the social charm of the Board’s visit. The
cadets privately referred to the young ladies attached to the Board as
“splinters.” I remember, upon entrance, hearing one cadet ask another if he
would “drag a splinter” for him. I later found out that this expression meant
that he would be pleased if his comrade would escort one of the young
ladies to a dance. The present Board usually pays its visit in mid-winter
when the cadets are busiest with their studies, so that the equally charming
Congressional “splinters” have little chance to win young hearts.

In the work of the institution the Superintendent is aided by a large number
of subordinates. The number of officers and others in prominent positions
on duty at the Academy is shown in the following list:

Superintendent and staff 5
Professors, permanent 7
Professors, by detail from Army 4
Professors, Associate, detailed 2
Professors, Assistant, detailed 12
Commandant of Cadets and Tactical officers 15
Master of the Sword, Instructor of Military Gymnastics and Physical
Culture 1
Instructors and other officers 68
Medical Corps 4
Medical Corps, Instructors in Military Hygiene (August 28 to October
10) 4
Chaplain 1
Librarian 1
Civilian Instructors of Languages 3
Civilian Instructors of Fencing and Military Gymnastics 3
Teacher of Music 1
Organist and Choirmaster 1
Pay Clerk 1
Total 135

The majority of the officers are detailed from the Army-at-large for varying
periods of time, but seven of the professors are permanent. The
Superintendent, the heads of all Departments of Instruction, including the
detailed heads, compose the Academic Board, which controls the program
and methods of instruction. It is non-military in character, its duties
pertaining almost solely to the various branches of learning. More
especially, its duties are to examine cadets, decide upon their merits and
proficiency, grant diplomas, and recommend for commission in the Army. It
reports, through the Superintendent, to the War Department, on the course
of studies and methods of instruction. It also recommends the text-books to
be used by the cadets in each department. Each member has one vote,
including the Superintendent.

The work of the Board is largely done by committees, both General
Committees and Class Committees. The latter are composed of the heads of
those departments whose studies any one class are pursuing.

At the close of every examination the Academic Board reports to the War
Department the names of all cadets who are deficient in studies or conduct
and who are recommended by the Board for discharge or transfer to a lower
class.

The seven professors permanently attached to the Academy are: the
Professor of Civil and Military Engineering, Natural and Experimental
Philosophy, Chemistry and Electricity, Modern Languages, Mathematics,
Drawing, and English and History. These members are appointed by the
President and usually selected from officers of the Army, graduates of the
Academy, who have specialized along the lines of their department. The
President usually appoints an officer recommended by the other members of
the Board, but he is not restricted in his choice and may select whom he
pleases for the position. All of the permanent Professors at present are
graduates except the Professor of English and History who is a graduate of
Yale. When the Department of English was created in 1910, it was felt that
the head of it should be a man who had specialized in English Literature.

Without reflecting on the graduates of the Academy, no one officer
appeared upon the horizon with the requisite qualifications, a fact not to be
wondered at, for few officers are ever in a position to pursue English
courses that would equip them for this position. Upon the creation of the
Department of English, History was transferred to this Department from the
Department of Law with which it had long been associated.

In addition to the permanent members of the Board, the detailed ones are
the Surgeon, who as the head of the Department of Hygiene, is entitled to a
seat; the Professor of Practical Military Engineering, the Professor of Law,
the Professor of Ordnance and Gunnery, and the Commandant of Cadets, all
four of whom are detailed by the Secretary of War from the officers of the
Army for a period of four years.

In the Department of Mathematics and Modern Languages the Professor
has an associate professor and an assistant professor whose duty is to assist

in the administrative work as well as the instruction. The other departments
have only assistant professors, officers detailed from the Army who might
be said to act as an Adjutant for the Professor. In common with the
remaining officers, they perform administrative routine duties, relieving the
Professor of the necessity of attending to minor questions. The Professor’s
time is very much occupied in the solution of problems that affect the
Academy as a whole, in addition to the development of their respective
courses, so that it is essential that his time be not employed with the
unavoidable trivialities that arise in the conduct of his Department.

The great mass of officers on duty at the Academy are, of course, the
instructors. These men are all officers of the Army, graduates of the
Academy, who are detailed for duty in the various departments. Formerly,
the tour of duty was for four years, but since the passage of a law by
Congress, the Detached Service Law, familiarly called the “Manchu Law,”
the time that an instructor can remain on duty at West Point, is dependent
upon the amount of duty that he has had with troops during the preceding
six years. No officer can remain on detached service, such as that at West
Point, for more than four years.

It is apparent, therefore, that the corps of instructors is constantly changing,
resulting in the introduction into the work of new blood and fresh
viewpoints. This changing of instructors maintains a high standard of
enthusiasm for teaching, so often lacking in institutions of learning where a
subordinate teacher goes over, year in and year out, the same ground.

Moreover, the system of officer instructors is employed on account of the
disciplinary value of their presence over the cadets. West Point is first and
foremost a Military Academy, and it is of primary importance that the
cadets shall absorb by example the spirit of discipline, and military
deportment. Not the least of the advantages of having officers teach cadets
is the contact that their presence maintains between West Point and the
Army.

Officers are selected for duty at the Academy by the Heads of Departments
who make every effort to secure men especially qualified for the work. For
example, the instructors in the Department of Engineering are all Engineer
officers; in Ordnance and Gunnery, mostly Ordnance officers; in Chemistry

and Electricity, usually Coast Artillery officers; in Mathematics, officers of
the staff and line who excelled in this study as cadets; in English and
History, line officers with recognized literary tendencies; in Languages,
officers whose advantages have enabled them to acquire a good speaking
knowledge of either French or Spanish. Until the outbreak of the European
War, officers on duty in the Department of Languages were ordered to
spend the summer in study in either France or Spain. They thereby were
able to perfect their knowledge to an extent that rendered them most
efficient instructors. Detailed to this Department are two native Spaniards
and two Frenchmen, whose services are employed to carry along the
instruction of the officer instructors as well as that of the cadets, so that
every opportunity is offered to the cadet to progress as far as his ability will
permit him in the time allotted these studies.

The time of the officer is well employed while on duty at the Academy. In
those departments whose period of recitation is an hour and a half, he has
two sections daily, but if the period is one hour, he instructs three sections.
He averages, therefore, from fifteen to eighteen hours of actual teaching per
week. To this amount must be added the conferences of the instructors,
conducted either by the Professor or one of his assistants. These
conferences are held, usually daily, and vary from one to two hours and
cover the material in the lesson or in advance work. By means of these
conferences, the Professor is able to standardize the teaching without
restricting the personality or individuality of his officers.

The routine work, that is, the keeping of records, weekly reports, the
correcting of exercises, problems, and compositions, all demand a greater or
less amount of time, and then what is most important, the instructor must
spend many hours in preparation. I have known many instructors to work
every night until midnight after the routine work of the day.

In the demand upon an officer’s time, consideration is given the fact that
with him teaching is an incident in his career, and he must therefore have at
his disposal, whether he uses it or not, at least a couple of hours per day for
professional work and study. When absent from troops an officer becomes
more or less rusty upon the duties of his arm, and he should, consequently,

by reading, the solution of problems, writing or what not, keep up with the
progress made in his branch of the Service.

General Orders of the Army prescribe also that at least one hour per day
must be employed in bodily exercise, riding, walking, tennis, golf,
swimming, polo, etc., and the officer is required to submit a certificate
stating that he has taken the prescribed amount.

I give in somewhat tedious detail the employment of the officer’s time,
because so frequently I hear, expressed by the layman, the opinion that
officers of the Army have practically nothing to do. It is ordinarily difficult
to disabuse their mind of this idea, chiefly because it is already made up. A
visitor arrives at West Point to spend the day and seeing a few officers
playing golf in the morning he assumes that all officers have nothing to do.
He perhaps little realizes that the same golfers, or tennis players, are trying
to get their exercise at a time that will not interfere with their academic
duties that begin for each department at varying hours. That same officer,
who plays a game of golf at 9:30 A.M., will in all probability spend a part of
the forenoon and afternoon with the cadets, and all evening in preparation.
Appearances are often very deceptive. This is particularly true in the Army,
which has been, until the war came upon us, subject to more unjust
criticism than any other professional body.

In order to facilitate the instruction, the cadets are arranged in four distinct
classes, corresponding with the four years of study. The cadets in the first
year’s course constitute the Fourth Class, those in the second year’s course,
the Third Class, those in the third year’s course the Second Class, and those
in the fourth year’s course the First Class. The designation of senior, junior,
sophomore, and freshman is not used at West Point as in colleges and
universities, but the terms “Yearling” and “Plebe” are familiarly applied to
cadets of the third and fourth classes respectively. The advancement of the
cadets from one class to another is based upon proficiency in their studies,
the details of which will be found in the chapter on “The Discipline of the
Mind.”

In order to distinguish the classes one from another, the device of putting
bands of braid on the sleeve of the uniform has been adopted. These lengths
of mohair are called service stripes and are issued one for each year of

service, so that the “plebe” sleeve is bare, the “yearling” has a single stripe,
the second classmen, two stripes, the first classmen, three stripes. This
insignia is of black braid for all gray uniforms except the full dress coat, on
which gold braid is used. The chevrons, although primarily a designation of
rank, also serve to distinguish some members of the classes. The cadet
officers and the sergeants are members of the First Class and the corporals
are of the Second Class. To many people, chevrons, or insignia or rank,
means nothing. Girls especially have so little idea of their significance that
they readily swallow anything a cadet tells them. It is the same today as of
yore. I was at a hop not long ago when I overheard a young miss say to her
cadet escort, who had just lost his chevrons, been “busted” as the cadets
say:

“Why don’t you wear some of those lovely gold stripes on your arm?”

“Well—er—you see,” replied the ‘buck,’ “why that’s a sort of private matter
with me now.”

O Tempora! O Mores! Tempora Mutantur, but not at West Point.

Until 1816, the cadets had no regular uniform, but were permitted to wear
pretty much what they desired. Poor chaps, I scarcely blame them, because
from the records it appears that for the large part of the time they were in
rags. In winter especially, they hardly had enough clothes to keep them
warm. In 1814, a uniform was prescribed, but little attention was paid to the
prescribed dress, everything being worn according to fancy up to a major-
general’s uniform. General R. G. Ramsey (Cullum Register, Vol. III.) states
that “during the winters of 1814 and 1815 cadets were greatly exposed to
cold; great coats had not become the fashion for boys and such comfort was
a specialty. My wardrobe had been carefully prepared, but the inventory did
not include the great coat.” This is the first mention of the cadet overcoat.

In 1816, however, an order from the Adjutant-General changed the uniform
of 1814, and with few modifications made from time to time, this uniform
is worn today. The gray color is said to have been adopted out of
compliment to General Scott and his troops who, clothed in gray (due to the
inability of the government to furnish them with blue), had, on July 4, 1814,
won a victory over the British at Chippewa.

Today the cadets have a few more uniforms, but the general appearance and
the pattern have been only slightly changed since 1816. The present list
includes a full-dress coat, a single-breasted coat of blue gray cloth, with
three rows of gilt bell buttons in front, and button-holes of black silk cord in
herring-bone form with a festoon turned at back end. The standing collar
hooks in front and is ornamented with a blind hole of cord formed like that
of the breast with a button on each side. The coat is cut off in front just
below the waist line, but has in rear a skirt, ornamented with three buttons
and cord holes. The full-dress coat is a garment of rare beauty and taste. I
have never seen a more military uniform, one that expresses so well the
purpose for which it is intended. It accentuates the good carriage of the
cadets and at the same time clothes him with an air of elegance. It seems to
me that anyone could look smart and well set-up in a cadet full-dress coat.
When seen in full dress without his accoutrements, the cadet, with his slim
waist, his well-developed shoulders, and chest proudly displaying those
shiny buttons, and the little tail hanging down stiffly and conservatively,
appears for all the world like proud young cock-robin going a-courting
Jenny Wren. The full-dress coat is worn for ceremonies, church, official
receptions, hops, and for social calls, dining out, and entertainments.

For habitual wear, a dress coat, or a blouse (as it is more familiarly called)
is prescribed. The garment was first worn, June 15, 1889. It is of the same
style as the officers’ blouse, being of gray cloth and bound around the
edges, the cuffs, and up the seams in the back with black mohair braid,
having a collar of the same material, of height suited to the wearer.

The trousers are of gray cloth with a black stripe up the side, one and one-
half inch wide. In summer, white is worn, either full white, blouse, trousers,
and cap, or a combination of the gray coat and the white trousers. This
mixed uniform is the most effective, especially en masse, at a ceremony
when the white belt and cross belts are worn.

For certain drills a gray flannel shirt is issued, and suitable breeches are
provided for riding. The various combinations of the uniform are published
in a table and designated by letter, so that the cadet consults the table for,
we will say, “Full Dress A,” where he finds in detail all articles of uniform
to be worn for a ceremony.

The uniform is admirable in color, appearance, and utility. It is regrettable
that the gray color is not used in the Regular Army instead of the lifeless
ugly olive drab. It is equally as invisible, more attractive in appearance, no
easier soiled, and easier to clean when soiled.

The only article of cadet uniform that seems out of harmony with the rest, is
the cadet cap. This headgear has no distinction and should be abolished. It
replaced, some years ago, a forage cap patterned after those worn in the
Civil War, but I do not think that the change was any improvement. The
visor is too drooping, and the crown, too narrow and rigid, is clumsily
fashioned. The majority of the cadets look as if they had put on by mistake,
their small brother’s hat, giving them a vaudeville appearance, in some
cases as ludicrous as Weber and Fields.

The day’s work of the Powers that Be, however, includes so many more
important things than the appearance of a cadet cap that the style of the cap
passes by unnoticed. The great aim of the Academy is to mold a man’s
character and train him to think. The Superintendent must constantly keep
his finger on the Academy’s pulse to see that these aims are being
successfully carried out. To the cadets he is as far removed from their life as
were the gods of Olympus from the common mortals. Not that the
Superintendent wishes it so, but because of circumstances. The big
problems of the Academy occupy so much of his time that he comes into
comparatively little personal contact with the cadets. Like Henry IV., by
being seldom seen, he is, when he appears, like a comet wondered at by
them who tell each other:

“That is he, the ‘Supt.’”

To be summoned before his presence makes a cadet anticipate the feeling
when he will appear before the final bar of justice. He dons his full-dress
uniform, pulls on a pair of white lisle thread gloves, puts a visiting card in
his hat band to have it ready for Woods, the Superintendent’s messenger,
and sallies forth, his heart a-tremble at the thought of appearing before
Olympus.

He quickly reviews his past, wondering what he has done, for he thinks of
course that he has unwittingly committed some offense. It is only when he

finds himself standing before the Superintendent’s desk saluting and saying:

“Sir, Cadet Ducrot reports as ordered,” that he realizes that he is in the
presence of a very human person like himself.

The wonderful prestige that the Superintendent has with the cadets is due,
not so much to his rank, but to the fact that he too was once a cadet, and
passed through experiences similar to their own. They appreciate the
success that he has made in their chosen profession, and his example
affords inspiration to many, for they argue that once upon a time, long ago,
he too was a new cadet in “Beast Barracks.”

CHAPTER V
“BEAST BARRACKS”

Blessed are the meek for they shall inherit the earth.

“Y OU man, there, slouching across the Area! What’s your name?”

The person addressed, a short fat chap, looks up over his big
round tortoise-shell glasses, with unfeigned interest, but stands mute,
apparently fascinated by the immaculate white trousers and the military
bearing of the speaker.

“Do you hear me talking to you? What’s your name? Take your slimy eyes
off me and look to the front!” sternly commands young Mars, coming a few
steps nearer. The new arrival looks blank and tries to digest all of the orders
at once.

“You other man in the green necktie, come here!” shouts this cadet officer
as he catches sight of a tall lanky civilian in a Hart, Schaffner, Marx suit,
long flat tan shoes, and a flaming green necktie, who has just sauntered
through the sally-port.

“You man, there, do you hear me talking to you? Step out!”

The Green Necktie smilingly approaches the cadet officer, deposits his
dress suitcase on the ground, and mops his brow.

“How do you do?” he cordially remarks, “my name is Jinks. ”

The cadet officer glares.

“Your name is Mr. Jinks, SIR,” he shouts. “Mr. Jinks, you get that!”

“And you too, Mr. Dumbguard,” turning to the chap with the Harvard
spectacles, “don’t you forget to put a Sir on the end of your name. Who do
you think you are around here? Stand up, both of you. Turn down the cuffs
on your trousers, button up your coats, take off all of those badges and
scarfpins and stick them in your pocket. What do you think this place is? a
school for dudes? Put your hats on straight!”

Command follows command with machine-gun rapidity. The green necktie
is almost smothered from view as the candidate buttons his coat, and
reluctantly the cuffs on the trousers are turned down.

“Pick up those suitcases and follow me.”

“And so this is an introduction to West Point,” ruminates the Harvard
spectacles, “strikes me this chap is somewhat brusque. I wonder where all
the other fellows are!”

Meanwhile over in front of the Administration Building is a large group of
candidates just reporting. Some are laughing and joking, others remain
silent, plunged in thought, wondering why they feel so strangely. About the
same impression fills each one’s mind. Underneath those parti-colored
striped shirts each heart is thumping just a little faster than usual. The delay
in reporting seems interminable. With thoughts of all sorts racing through
their heads, they await their reception, or their “breaking in” with fearful
interest.

Photo White Studio

“Beast Barracks”—Drawing Mattresses

Some few have been to West Point before, but the large majority have never
been so fortunate. They know it only by Cadet Days, General King’s
entertaining book of cadet life, or by The Spirit of Old West Point, General
Morris Schaff’s charming reminiscent book of life in the Corps, about the
time of the Civil War, or by romantic stories gathered here and there.

No words that I know of seem as magical as “West Point.” To the candidate
it conjures a vision of all that he hopes to be. The honor of being a cadet,
the privilege of wearing the uniform, the immense possibilities of physical
and mental achievement, the soul-satisfying fear of an ambition about to be
realized, the glamour of military life, and, it must be admitted, a secret
feeling of righteous superiority over his boy friends at home,—all these
thoughts crowd his imagination so that for once he sees frozen the vague
ideal that he always has had of himself.

I am sure that Gawain’s first impressions of King Arthur’s court were dim
in comparison with the dazzling visions of West Point that fill the
candidate’s mind. For months, in some cases for years, he has striven for an
appointment. All of his interests and hopes have been centered upon
becoming a cadet. He has read all the literature about the place, he has gone
to sleep many a night living over in imagination his career. At last the day
comes when he sets forth on the road of his great ambition. He can hardly
believe that he is actually on the way to West Point! What enchanting
pictures crowd his imagination and beguile the journey! In his mind’s eye
he is arriving; he sees himself in uniform, he wonders how he will like the
life: one moment he is troubled by the probability of failure, the next, he
spans the years in thought and is back home again on furlough, and he
thrills with pride and pleasure at the prospect of greeting his old comrades
after an absence of two years. How delightful it is to build castles in Spain!
His imagination runs on and on; he promises himself to study hard, he
wants his family to be proud of his record; he hopes to be a cadet officer. In
his reverie he graduates and joins the Army, his ambition realized. All a-
tingle with excitement he eagerly awaits the arrival at West Point.

When, however, the great gray buildings loom up as the day-line boat
approaches the wharf, his buoyancy begins to ebb, his exhilaration cools
under a mental Texas Norther, and the joy of anticipation so recently
experienced receives a chill that causes him to gaze around uneasily and
forlornly. He feels a little sad and melancholy. Thoughts of home sweep
over him.

Photo White Studio

Reporting for Duty

There is, however, about certain fellow passengers, lean lank youths like
himself, something responsive, something about their hats, something about
the unnatural droop of the shoulders, the new suitcases, the same fearful
look that draws him to their side. “Are you a candidate, too?” he asks
hopefully. An answer is unnecessary. Instinct again has won, and the flood-
gates of friendship are unreservedly opened to the newly made companion
about to enter the Land of Egypt and the House of Bondage. We are timid
creatures all of us, and even the strongest suffer a twinge of timidity, a
queer feeling in the seat of compassion, when about to penetrate the
mystery surrounding an unknown life. At such a moment we all want to be
little children, to have someone take us under shelter. We would like to run
away from ugly, grim Reality that relentlessly blocks our way and with
whom we must battle before we can go forward.

A sort of vague terror pervades the candidate as he climbs the hill from the
station to the Adjutant’s office where he must report, but he grasps his
suitcase and sets forth for the Headquarters Building where his directions
tell him to report upon his arrival. If he is ahead of time he goes to the hotel
where he finds a great many candidates, some of whom have been at the
Point several days trying to absorb some impressions before reporting. Here
friends are quickly made. On the day that they are all ordered to report,
when they feel that they are about to bid farewell to their civilian freedom,
they reluctantly set out for Headquarters. Unwilling though they may be to
report, few ever in after life regret having entered the Academy.

The Rubicon once passed, however, no time is lost in the administrative
routine of receiving the raw material. After reporting to the Adjutant, the
new cadet is turned over to an orderly who directs him to the office of the
Treasurer. No general officer in full uniform, one month later, could create
in the candidate’s mind the same impression of the finished military product
as does this first sight of a simple soldat at the Treasurer’s. The new cadet is
directed to deposit all the money that he has in his possession. Each new
cadet is supposed to deposit one hundred and sixty dollars upon entrance to
cover an initial cost of equipment, which amount is credited to the cadet’s
account, together with any surplus change that he has at the time of
admission. Although the Regulations require this initial deposit of one
hundred and sixty dollars, the requirement is not absolutely obligatory, so
that if any boy receives an appointment he should not be deterred from
accepting on account of the financial stipulation. He should come at all
events. The first equipment will be issued, and with economy he can later
on wipe out the debt. If a boy’s parents are poor, it would be foolish for
them to make a great effort to raise this money. Let the boy come and
assume the responsibility of the debt, and let the onus of it rest upon his
more youthful shoulders which will very soon broaden to bear it. One by
one the men pass the little wicket window of the Treasurer and deposit all
their money. Pockets are emptied of all cash and checks, which are credited
to the cadet’s account. When eight, ten, or twelve candidates have been
admitted, the young officer present forms them into a pseudo squad, or
rather group, then calls an orderly of the Regular Army.

“Show these young gentlemen over to the Area of Barracks to the office of
the Officer in Charge of New Cadets.”

The orderly comes briskly to attention, his smart salute captivating the
assorted collection of “Prides of Congressional Districts.” They promptly
follow his leadership, out of the postern gate of Headquarters, across the
road to the Area of Barracks, reveling in the clouds of glory that, in their
eyes, he trails behind him. They are now quite happy, fully launched upon
their military careers.

The feeling of elation at being at last within the sacred halls of the Academy
begins to intoxicate the new cadet, when, upon the way over to the
barracks, he notices a few stray passersby stop, look at the queer squad, and
then smile slowly, almost insinuatingly, as if amused. It is an irritating
smile. He sees the orderly smile too. Something has surely gone wrong. His
heart goes down, down, down, and he soon feels as if someone had thrown
about him a cloak of lead. But on the squad goes. He tries to shake off his
heavy feeling, but it is no use. Many days elapse before the heavy mantle is
cast aside. He is sure that something dreadful is about to happen. But stay,
what is all this disturbance in the Area? Running back and forth between a
sally-port and a barracks are a lot of bareheaded individuals, some in
military shirt and cit trousers, others in lovely pink striped shirts and gray
cadet trousers. They appear very uncomfortable. Several well set-up young
cadets are at their heels giving them instructions in stern tones.

“Say, soldier, who are those men?” inquires one bold candidate.

“Those men are your new classmates,” explains the orderly.

Just then a lieutenant comes forward; the orderly turns over his charges and
the men of the squad take their places in line with many other candidates
who are awaiting their turn to report to the Officer in Charge. No sooner
have they placed their grips on the ground, and begun to take life easy while
waiting, than a flock of yearling corporals emerge from the Guardhouse.

“Stand up all along this line!” commands one.

“Hold up your heads, and drag in your chins,” shouts another, as he goes
down the line giving each new cadet a little personal attention.

“Mr. Dumbguard, put that hat on straight.”

Photo White Studio

Two Hours after Reporting

All hats are at once adjusted. The whole line assumes an extraordinary
appearance of rigidity. The heat becomes more intense. Large drops,
globules of perspiration, roll off the crimson faces whose features have
assumed a permanent set, depicting grief. Slowly the line advances. More
cadet officers appear, giving each candidate the number of his room in
barracks.

“Mr. Ducrot, your room is 1223, step out and find it, put your baggage there
and report back here immediately.”

Mr. Ducrot, whose intellect has become somewhat clouded by all of the
events and instructions that he has received in the last ten minutes, hurries
off in the direction of the twelfth division.

The instruction of new cadets is under an officer of the Tactical Department.
In his work he has both officer and cadet assistants.

In order that the cadets themselves might have experience in breaking in
new men, cadets of the First (or senior) class are detailed as assistant
instructors. They drill the new cadets in the school of the soldier and of the
squad. They give him individual instruction in the care of his room, his
correspondence, and in the use and care of his equipment and his personal
hygiene. It is highly desirable that the new cadet should feel the influence
of the older cadet. I shall never forget my first impressions of my cadet
instructors. I thought that I had never seen such immaculate human beings
in my life. With their straight backs, their lean faces, piercing eyes that
stared coldly almost contemptuously at me, I was sure that they were all
English generals imported direct from the Boer War. I didn’t know that
white duck trousers could be so white, nor brass buckles so shiny. I was
then sure that I had an incapacity for military life, that I would never attain
such a degree of excellence, and I inwardly withered before their glory.

Meanwhile, Mr. Ducrot and his fellow candidates, having found their rooms
in barracks, are approaching the Guardhouse at a dead run upon the
insistence of a cadet corporal. Once again they stand in front of their
instructors who glare at them like Men of Wrath.

“Fall in,” commands the fiercest looking one.

A shuffling of feet, indefinite movements as if to do something, a few
emphatic remarks by a corporal, and a semblance of a line is formed. Two

Messrs. Ducrot ignore the suggestion of the Wrathful One, until a fresh-
faced lieutenant almost pulls them into line.

The squad is now herded over to the Cadet Store to have issued the initial
uniform, consisting of a gray shirt, campaign hat, cap, and gray flannel
trousers.

In less than half an hour a complete metamorphosis takes place. The
heterogeneous crowd of candidates that entered the store has lost the
appearance of a bargain counter on sale day. By no means, however, have
they gained a military aspect: all that can be said is that they are
harmoniously clothed. It takes time to learn to wear a uniform properly, and
nothing is funnier than a new cadet in his first outfit. These garments have
been made up in stock sizes so that an issue can be made at once. The fit is
fairly good, except the blouses. A plebe, however, soon appreciates a loose
blouse. When the cadet instructors command:

“Mr. Dumbguard, get those shoulders back. More yet! More yet!” a number
of wrinkles appear in the back of the blouse. The looser therefore it is, the
less effort is necessary to produce many wrinkles, and therefore, the task of
appeasing the Man of Wrath easier.

The first day’s work goes on rapidly. As soon as the new uniforms are
donned, once again to the Cadet Store go the new cadets to draw their room
equipment.

“New cadets, turn out promptly!” command the cadet instructors in the
lower hall of each division. Down the iron steps hurriedly come running the
novitiates, and line up in the Area. At the Cadet Store, each man is issued
his mattress, pillows, and bedding. A long procession of young Atlases,
sweating like horses, stagger through the sally-port, bearing aloft everything
necessary for sleeping, except the bed. A few zealous ones add to the
burden a bucket, perhaps a dipper rattling inside, and a broom that sways
recklessly on the top of the mattress. Concealed somewhere in the mass is a
bottle of indelible ink that is sure to drop before the room is reached.
Standing in the Area are a few of the Wrathful tribe ever on the alert to see
that no loitering occurs.

“Take up a double time, Mr. Ducrot, step out!”

Poor Mr. Ducrot, this time about five feet four inches tall, whose view has
been obscured by the side of a mattress, attempts to be more of a hustler,
stubs his toe, and down come pillows, mattress, bucket, and all.

“Well, Mr. Ducrot, you’re a pretty mess, you’re about the grossest plebe I
ever saw!” consoles one sarcastic Arch-Fiend.

“What do you think you’re trying to celebrate out here, Mr. Dumbguard,”
cuts in another, “do you think you’re going to take a nap?”

The senior cadet officer comes forward:

“What’s the trouble?” he inquires.

Mr. Ducrot (after remembering to raise his hand in imitation of a salute)
speaks up from the midst of his debâcle:

“I was ...”

“Sir! Sir!” commands the officer.

“Sir,” recommences Mr. Ducrot, “I was coming through the sally-port when
——”

Further details of this domestic tragedy are cut short by the roll of a drum.

“Pick up that stuff and get ready for dinner.”

“Step out! Step out!” orders the cadet officer.

Dinner! Dinner! Beloved dinner! the thought fills Mr. Ducrot with ecstasy.
Here it is twelve-thirty and he has been at it since 5:30. It seems three years.

At dinner formation, “Mr. Ducrot, Mr. Dumbguard and Co.” learn how to
“brace,” a term used to denote the position of the shoulders well down and
back, with the head erect and chin in, hands close to the side. The

companies are marched, after a fashion, to the Mess Hall. The cadet
instructors accompany the new cadets continually commanding:

“Mr. Duflickit, drag in that chin!” “Hold your head up, No. 2, 1st squad!”

Once in the Mess Hall, the new cadet is allowed to eat all he wishes without
interference. At the meal, however, he must comply with the instructions for
the position of a cadet at table in the Mess Hall.

This position shall be wholly without constraint. While eating the body
shall be erect on the hips, inclining slightly forward, elbows off the
table. When not eating he will sit at ease in his chair, erect or leaning
back as he desires. His forearms may be kept in his lap, or his hand or
hands may rest easily upon the table. At no time in the Mess Hall shall
he tilt his chair back or elevate his feet, or turn his chair away from the
table. Whenever a cadet is spoken to in the Mess Hall, he will look at
the person speaking to him.

But who cares, this first meal, about the position at table? Nothing matters
except to satisfy that ravenous appetite!

Dinner over, the tragedy of the afternoon is enacted. West Point pays no
attention to the style of hair cutting preferred by the aspirant for military
honors. All cadets must be shorn alike. The new cadets are consequently
marched to the barber shop wherefrom a long line of shaggy headed plebes
protrudes like some serpent caught in a noose. What a sight is that barber
shop! Hair everywhere: black hair, red hair, yellow hair, and some that
resembles sun-burnt vanilla. Thick wavy locks, the despair of some distant
damsel, drop dejectedly one by one. The hair must be kept short at all times
so that it is impossible to distinguish at West Point cadets with histrionic
leanings, or those poetically and musically inclined.

No rest yet in sight, this busiest of days. First the rooms must be arranged
strictly according to the Regulations—a place for everything and everything
in its place. Dozens of times are the belts piled, only to be pulled down and
thrown on the floor by the Wrathful Tribe detailed to see that the task is
correctly done. The bedding suffers the same ignominious treatment, for the
slightest irregularity in arrangement is met with severe punishment. It

seems hard and discouraging, but, later on, the reason for such strict
compliance with orders appears. Only by constant repetition do new cadets
learn to do a thing thoroughly.

The Interior of a Cadet’s Room in Barracks

Tired out in body and brain, Mr. Ducrot sits on the edge of his bed for a
moment’s rest, when:

“New cadets turn out promptly!” echoes through the hall of the Division.
Not a moment is lost in complying with this command.

He rushes down the stairs in a bewildered sort of way wondering what
calamity is about to befall.

“Hurry up, Mr. Dumbguard, what do you mean by coming out here late?”
greets his appearance upon the stoop of the barracks. From all the divisions

new cadets are scampering to their places in ranks along the cement walk.

But who are the grave-looking officials in blue uniforms? The question is
not long unanswered. The new cadets are lined up along three sides of a
square. The National colors and the Corps colors are brought to the center.
The Notary Public, in the presence of the Superintendent and his staff, reads
the oath of allegiance to the assembled new body, who with right hands
raised toward Heaven, swear their fealty to the United States. The ceremony
is simple, but to the plebe tremendously impressive. When he agrees to give
four years’ service to the Government after graduation, he feels as if he is
signing away his life.

There is no cloud without its silver lining. To Mr. Ducrot’s great joy, the
chief Man of Wrath commands:

“New cadets will immediately take a bath.”

For the first time since reporting he enjoys a little relaxation, splashing
around under the showers, where occur stolen confidences when the
instructors are busy elsewhere. A refreshed feeling creeps over Mr. Ducrot
and he double times back to his room to await the inspection of his shoes
and feet. Pretty soon, in pops the officer in charge with tapes and foot sticks
for taking the measure of shoes. Alas, no pointed toes or English lasts are
allowed:—all cadets must wear a sensible military shoe. Regularly, are Mr.
Ducrot’s feet inspected during his first few weeks to remedy ill-fitting shoes
and prevent cases of soreness.

Years ago in the days of hazing, a vastly different sort of inspection of feet
occurred. This was an unofficial inspection of the plebe’s feet by upper-
classmen. In the middle of the night when the tired plebe was snoring away,
dreaming of being late to a formation and pursued by raging demons, he
was suddenly awakened by a hollow voice in his tent, commanding:

“Inspec-shun! Feet,” the “feet” said crisply and emphatically.

Without delay Mr. Ducrot sticks his bare feet out for the inspection of the
midnight prowler. He then, by order, opens his toes into the intervals of

which the gloating upper-classman poured melted candle grease, thereby
ending the inspection.

At eight-thirty in the evening, Mr. Ducrot, wearily but joyfully, makes down
his bed that has remained folded all day long. At last, he is to have a rest,
blessed sleep is in sight.

At nine o’clock the orderly in front of the Guardhouse beats three taps on
his drum and simultaneously the cry:

“Lights out!” echoes through the halls of the divisions. Immediately the
barracks are plunged into darkness and silence. Only the tread of the cadet
officer doing his half-hour patrol in the Area, disturbs the stillness of the
night.

Mr. Ducrot sinks back upon his pillow, dead tired, almost too tired to sleep,
and strives to bring a little order out of the chaos of his mind. The oft-
repeated names Ducrot, Dumbjohn, Duflicket, Dumbguard float through his
head, indescribably confused with mattresses, pillows, stern-looking cadet
officers, vicious yearling corporals, rows of red-faced plebes, chins drawn
way in, and the perspiration streaming down their faces. The events of the
day are hopelessly jumbled in his mind. A feeling almost of failure creeps
over him, and in the solitude of the night a yearning for his home seizes
him. All through his breast spasmodic sharp pains play hide and seek. The
great loneliness to which men are prey, fills him with sadness and
melancholy until a pleasing drowsiness drifts along and smothers Mr.
Ducrot into unconsciousness.

This period of training of the new cadet is familiarly called “Beast
Barracks.” It lasts for about three weeks, at the end of which these new men
are sent to camp to join the Battalions. It is necessary to segregate them for
at least this length of time: otherwise they would be so wooden that they
would be sticking their front rank files in the head with a bayonet.

It is not difficult to discern the origin of the name “Beast Barracks.” In the
cadets’ mind, their breaking in is only comparable to the taming of some
wild animals. The training is undeniably severe for a tenderfoot, but its
“beastly” character is an imaginary creation. To the new man, however, it

seems awfully real. I well remember my own feelings. When I was standing
in the fierce sun, “bracing” in ranks along the cement walk of the Area,
occasionally a white dog upon the hill opposite would come lazily snooping
around the ash cans: I envied him his freedom. It seemed to me that I
envied everyone except my classmates in misery. In my imagination I saw
in flaming letters above every door I entered: “Abandon all hope ye who
enter here.”

As I was re-christened Mr. Ducrot, I began to think I was someone else, I
felt as if I must have died and that this was my second tour on earth, a
punishment for a wicked first life.

“There must be some way of getting out of this,” I reflected, but then, I
thought that if the officers and cadets in charge of me had gone through
with this training I could also. And I did,—Alleluiah!

Moving from Barracks to Camp

It was a long time, too, before I found out how all of us came to be
addressed as Mr. Ducrot. During the academic year when I began to study
French I made his acquaintance. He appeared in Keetel’s French Grammar,
in the exercises of which the older cadets had uncovered a mysterious
scandal concerning his private life. All plebes were at once required to
relate to the upper-classmen the following bit of gossip, known as the
famous Ducrot scandal. 1. Monsieur Ducrot a un fils et une fille. 2. Madame
Ducrot a un fils et deux filles. Scandal. The name became traditional in the
Corps and was, with many others, applied indiscriminately to all plebes.

Early the next morning, Mr. Ducrot, whom we left sleeping, attends his first
reveille. Although the drums do not begin to play until five-twenty, he steals
out of bed long before and conscientiously sweeps, dusts, shaves, and
dresses, for fear of not being on time for the formation. Boom! sounds the
morning gun! Down the iron steps all the Mr. Ducrots noisily clatter, bolt
out to the cement walk where they remain rigidly at attention for ten
minutes until the cadet officers emerge half awake and disagreeable. Woe
unto the sleepy-headed plebe who is late! As he peeks his head out of the
Division door a couple of the Wrathful meet him and convoy him at top
speed to his place in ranks. I was once late: I shall never forget the
experience. When my “Boer War Generals” were chasing me I was seized
with the same terror that a child has in dreaming of being pursued by a
burly policeman and unable to run.

At 5:50 the cadet instructors make a cursory inspection of the rooms to see
that they are in order before breakfast. Before entering they knock sharply
on the door, an authoritative knock, but one flavored with a little bravado.
Two immovable, gray-clad figures, with eyes glassily fixed on the wall in
front of them, chins caressing their Adam’s apple, shoulders way back,
stand near the fireplace, looking for all the world like a couple of spoiled
children about to cry, while the inspector rubs his white gloves over the
tables and chairs.

Upon the second day commences the instruction of the new cadet in the
elementary drills.

During the first few weeks the following schedule is carried out:

Infantry Instruction 7:15-7:45 a. m.
Physical Exercises 8:15-9:00 a. m.
Infantry Instruction 9:30-10:15 a. m.
10:45-11:30 a. m.
3:00-3:40 p. m.
4:15-5:00 p. m.

Each day the course of instruction is definitely prescribed by the officer in
charge. At the first drill the new cadets are taught the school of the soldier,
the marchings, haltings, facings, and saluting. These exercises are given
without rifles. Usually the second drill is given under arms. As the service
rifle weighs nine pounds, it is desirable to accustom gradually these young
lads to its weight. To one unaccustomed to carrying a rifle, it seems, after a
short while, to bore into your shoulder. Any officer who has ever been a
cadet will never require an enlisted man to carry his rifle too long, until
fatigued. His own experience in “Beast Barracks” remains too vivid.

The instruction is progressive, so that the cadets are gradually assembled
into squads, the squads into platoons, the platoons into companies.
Naturally, some men improve faster than others. Those whose intellects
seem befogged by the complexities of the drills are formed into what is
known as the “Awkward Squad” whence, as they progress, they are
transferred. Last year one bright cadet instructor thought of a practical joke
to inspire the new cadets to do their very best. It seems that the schedule of
drills included a “sightseeing tour” around the Post, in order to familiarize
the new cadets with their surroundings. The plebes were told that only the
most efficient would go on this tour. Consequently great efforts were made
by members of the awkward squad to increase their military efficiency. As
the instructors knew and the plebes later discovered the “sightseeing trip”
was anything but a treat. It was made on a broiling hot summer’s afternoon
at a rapid walk, and not after the fashion of the Metropolitan rubberneck
wagons. Objects of interest were pointed out in the most military manner: 1.
Eyes Right; 2. Hudson River; 3. Front, or, 1. Eyes Left; 2. Battle
Monument; 3. Front!

Sandwiched between the infantry morning drill are the physical exercises.
This name will make the plebes laugh, for all drills are physical exercises,
but I intend it as a distinguishing name for a drill where the essence of
exercise is dispensed. This drill is now given in the Gymnasium and
consists of every known form of setting-up exercises that can be devised.
For forty-five minutes the cadet executes them, both at halt and while
marching. He is given frequent short rests of half a minute or a minute, after
every different exercise, but nevertheless it seems to the naturally fatigued
new cadet, as if every muscle, every sinew, and every bone was being
relentlessly punished.

These setting-up exercises are a potent influence in the new cadets’ physical
development, and when the fresh young body has become accustomed to
them, they act as a tonic, an elixir. To a visitor the drill is always interesting
as it is rather spectacular, due to the numbers acting in unison and with
perfect cadence.

The early afternoon is devoted to the nomenclature and cleaning of the rifle.
Scattered in groups in the shade of the old gymnasium or the Cadet Store,
perspiring plebes take their rifles apart and, after cleaning them, try their
utmost to put them together again.

Photo White Studio

A First Lesson in Saluting

Infantry drills fill the remainder of the afternoon until 5:00 P.M., when there
comes a chance to wash away the grime before retreat. Immediately after
the lowering of the flag each afternoon is an inspection in ranks, for which
all plebes must be carefully groomed. Each man must appear with
immaculate linen and with his blouse and cap, and shoes carefully brushed.
Mr. Ducrot dreads the inspection more than any other duty. Despite his care
in dressing, the inspectors are sure to espy a tiny wisp from the clothes
brush clinging to his cap or blouse, whereupon His Highness says:

“What do you mean by falling into ranks covered with straw?” Perhaps Mr.
Ducrot is just seventeen years old with only a soupçon of hair on his face.

“Why, what’s this,” inquires a sharp-eyed inspector. “Mr. Ducrot, why
didn’t you shave today? I see three hairs sticking out of your chin. Drag in
your chin.”

Mr. Ducrot’s sense of humor overcomes him even in his miserable state of
mind and the corners of his mouth begin to twitch.

“Wipe that smile off your face!” commands the cadet officer.

Up goes the hand: the offending emotion is erased.

“Now, Mr. Ducrot, throw it upon the ground and stamp upon it. Don’t you
ever again smile in ranks.” Mr. Ducrot begins to feel that the Wrathful Ones
are quite human after all and he feels cheered up for the remainder of the
day. Up and down the line walk the cadet officers inspecting and “bracing”
the plebes, commanding:

“Get your shoulders back! More yet! More yet!”

“Hold your head up; drag in your chin!”

“Suck up your stomach! Lean forward on your hips!” and so on.

For three weeks the new cadets are put through this severe course of
instruction before they are deemed fit to be put in the ranks of the older
cadets without ruining the appearance of the Battalions.

It is astonishing to behold the progress made in elementary training in this
short period. It is true that the days are crammed full, and the instruction is
of the most intensive kind, but even so the results far exceed what might be
expected under the most rigorous of systems.

In the first place, the men lose all appearance of slovenliness and begin to
acquire a distinct military bearing. The unevenness of gait is replaced by a
measured tread, the hanging of heads and drooping of shoulders gives way
to an erect smart carriage, and the excessive swinging of arms disappears.
The group of very crude-looking individuals of the first few days has been
changed into a harmonious appearing military body. Little by little the new
men have begun to adjust themselves to their uniforms.

No less marked is the change of the mental attitude of the new cadet at the
end of “Beast Barracks.” All sense of his own importance, if he ever had

any, has oozed away rapidly. Like Bob Acres, it sneaked out of the ends of
his fingers the first few days, and he realizes what a very small fish he is in
this new pond. He rapidly acquires a most receptive mood in which he
absorbs the most important lesson that a soldier must learn,—OBEDIENCE.
The officers and cadets in charge of him demand unhesitating and instant
compliance with their orders. To this end the new cadets are made to
execute every order at a run, not to harass them as they sometimes think,
but to form the habit of immediate obedience. This trait is the foundation of
discipline, toward the inculcation of which in the new cadet, an excellent
beginning is made in “Beast Barracks.”

At the end of three weeks the “Beasts” are moved from Barracks to join the
rest of the Corps in camp. You ought to see them move. Carrying their
Lares and Penates in striped laundry bags, or on canvas stretchers, they
come and go all morning across the Plain in parallel rows, resembling for
all the world a colony of ants building its new home. Upon arrival in camp,
they join the companies to which they have been assigned, and from the
state of “Beast” they are raised to the dignity of a plebe, the next lowest
grade in the cadet hierarchy.

“Beast Barracks” is over, but its memory remains fresher than any other at
West Point. In spite of the new and more interesting training of camp life,
Mr. Ducrot is forever haunted by recollections of perspiration and indelible
ink.

CHAPTER VI
BENDING THE TWIG

O NLY when the three hundred odd new cadets have been transferred
to camp and joined the Battalion, do they begin to feel that they are
members of the Corps. They are, however, ill-formed, crude,
ungainly members, and from the moment they pass the hedge that screens
the camp from the visitors’ seats, the Tactical gardeners begin the work of
bending these natural twigs, so recently transplanted from the
individualistic soil of civilian life to the orthodox ground of military
training.

Realizing how difficult it is for a young man to adapt himself to the
changed conditions that he meets at West Point, the authorities require the
new cadet to report in June, just as the academic year has closed, in order
that he may receive the benefit of the summer-camp training before taking
up his studies. The physical fatigue that the new plebe experiences is really
so great, that he would not be able to plunge into the academic course
before his body has become accustomed to the demands made upon it. The
aching muscles, the drooping eyes, that awful heaviness of fatigue must all
be given time to pass away so that the mind may be free to pursue its
development. To this end, he goes into camp after his first few weeks in
“Beast Barracks.”

The camp is prettily situated in the northeast corner of the Plain along the
bluff overlooking the Hudson. In form it is rectangular, laid out for six
companies whose streets are centrally cut by an avenue known as the
general parade. The streets are parallel to the parade ground proper, from
which they are separated and screened by a hedge.

Nor is the cadet camp lacking in the features that make every permanent
camp comfortable and convenient for the soldier. For these creature
comforts, the cadets have been at times criticised on the ground that soldiers

in the field should be content with the bare necessities of life. The cadet
camp, however, is intended as a camp of instruction only. In military life
there are two kinds of camps, the permanent camp and the temporary camp.
In the latter, soldiers live close to nature dispensing with the hundred and
one little conveniences that all of us today consider necessary to our
physical well-being, but in the former, such as the cadet encampment, the
soldier is provided with a maximum of comfort—and why not? The
illustrated magazines that help to bring us closer to the Great War in Europe
give visual proof that when men remain for any length of time in one place,
even in the zone of danger, they build and adorn abodes. It may be that an
enemy shell will destroy these shelters the next moment, but the domestic
instinct remains unimpaired. Some of the bomb-proof dugouts on the
western front are miniature triumphs of architecture and comfort. The
occupation year after year of the cadet camp has had the same effect. We
therefore see today a camp with graveled company streets that are
illuminated at night by electricity. The tents, instead of being pegged, are
supported by galvanized iron rails. The dim candle of olden times is
replaced by the brilliant electric bulb, and the cadet, instead of reposing his
weary bones on the hard wooden floor, slumbers luxuriously on a Gold
Medal cot.

A large central tent, like a mother hen watching over her brood, is reserved
for the Commandant of Cadets. The tents of the cadet officers are on the
opposite edge of the space in front of the Tactical officers’ tents, the next
indication of hierarchical authority. Then come the tents of the non-
commissioned officers and the privates.

To have a neat-looking camp, strict regulations govern the arrangement of
the tents. Twice a day they are aligned. Due to changes in the temperature,
the supporting cords lengthen or shorten, so that the front tent-pole gets out
of alignment. Then an authoritative voice rings out:

“Turn out, ‘B’ company, and straighten your tent-poles!” Whereupon cadets
in all conditions of dress and undress tumble out of the little brown canvas
homes. When it rains the cords must be loosened at the first pitter-patter of
the raindrops on the tent-fly. The new plebe sitting in his underwear in his
tent, probably polishing his breastplate for the twenty-fifth time that day,

does not realize that this duty must be performed until a dozen or more
yearlings command from the recesses of the canvas bungalows:

“Turn out, you plebes, and loosen those tent-cords!” Out they jump into the
“catacombs” (the space between the tents), bumping their heads against the
rails, and at once commence tugging at the obstinate, water-soaked tent-
cords, while the summer downpour soaks them to the skin.

To each tent two cadets are assigned, one of whom performs for a week at a
time the duty of tent orderly. Whenever the cadet detailed for orderly is
absent on account of duty or sickness, his tent-mate becomes responsible. In
order that the Tactical officer in charge of any company may know which
cadet is responsible, there is fastened on the front tent-pole, a revolving
octagonal disk of wood, about three inches in diameter. Both cadets’ names,
as well as the words “Guard” “Sick,” are printed on the face of the disk,
along one of the sides, and the disk revolved to indicate the name of the
orderly, or the cause of the occupant’s absence. The orderly is also supposed
to keep the water bucket filled, but the occupants of each tent usually have
some private treaty whose provisions prescribe which one shall “drag” the
water from the hydrant.

Generally speaking the orderly is responsible for the cleanliness and police
of the tent, and of the ground adjacent and in front, as far as the middle of
the company street where the rubbish is swept into a pile to be removed by
the policemen. These men are civilian employees, many of whom have
been at the Academy so long that they are intimately identified with the
Corps. In time, some of them will fade into legendary characters much the
same as Benny Havens. Promptly at police call at five o’clock, the
wheelbarrow squad commanded by “Mike,” “Frank,” or “Tony,” moves
ceremoniously down the street collecting the sweepings. At this hour the
camp presents an animated scene. Cadets are busily dragging the ground
around their tents with a broom to give it a “spoony” appearance for
inspection, and every few minutes some one man will dart out to the center
of the street with a stray match or piece of paper and throw it in the passing
wheelbarrow.

The interior of the tent contains a wooden clothes-press and usually a
canvas stretcher suspended from the ridge pole. Each cadet has a certain
section for his clothes. All articles, belts, gloves, socks must be folded and
arranged in a prescribed manner. The cots are folded and kept out of sight
during the day. Gray, painted wooden lockers for storing cleaning material
and clothing border one side of the tent floor. Many cadets, however,
secrete food, known as “Boodle” in these convenient places, and I am sure
that an unexpected inspection would reveal many tins of saltines, bottles of
olives, and jars of peanut butter. During my cadet days, the officer in charge
of my company never, for some reason, looked into the lockers. My tent-
mate and I therefore grew more and more bold about filling them with vast
supplies of “Boodle,” and we began to think that the “Tac” was inspired by
a sort of noblesse oblige where the lockers were concerned, a sort of
sympathetic remembrance of his own cadet-gnawing appetite. One
Saturday, however, just as he was leaving and I was offering a silent prayer
of thanksgiving, he ordered the lockers opened. A gallon jar in which some
fifty olives lay submerged and a slovenly looking pineapple cheese met my
humiliated gaze. A reprimand that as a cadet officer I should set an example
to the rest of the company, and five demerits, were awarded to me
forthwith.

When the tents are not prepared for inspection, however, cadets may make
down the cots and rest. How wonderfully refreshing it is to rest! to throw
oneself down on the blankets and forget the heat, the weary march, the
grime, the dust, and abandon oneself to the delights of the imagination,
dreaming of the sweetness of the past or building vast plans for the future!
How precious to the cadet is each moment of repose snatched from the busy
day! But it is in the morning that the real longing for sleep becomes most
acute.

Every morning at 5:20, the solitary boom of the reveille gun is echoed
throughout the hills, rudely dissipating the fog of unconsciousness that
envelops the sleeping cadets. Little by little the deathlike slumber of the
camp is broken. Indistinct sounds, a sigh, a yawn, float gently out upon the
air; drugged forms twist and roll uncertainly beneath the mosquito bars, as
if struggling in a bewildered sort of way to preserve the pleasing heaviness
that charms their bodies.

Suddenly the air is torn by the shrill garrulous fifes and the lusty rub-a-dub-
dub of the drums. The reveille march has begun. Around the camp the “Hell
Cats” march, up one street, down another like demons possessed. The
shrieking sounds of the fifes and the deep rolling noise of the drums
brusquely rout the stillness of the dawn, while the semi-conscious forms toy
with danger, beguiling themselves that there is plenty of time until the
assembly. Presently from near the general parade the familiar warning notes
of Yankee Doodle change the camp to a place of intense animation. Up go
mosquito bars and in a twinkling, almost as if by magic, tents disgorge their
sleepy occupants, hastily and feverishly buttoning their uniforms as they
run to their places in ranks to the fading rolls of the drum corps.

After reveille it takes but a few minutes to police the tents and perform the
necessary ablutions before breakfast. The drills commence within a half-
hour after the morning meal and continue until noon. They are of various
kinds, the majority of which will be described in the chapter entitled
“Lessons from Mars,” but I will speak of the plebe’s work in his first camp,
since it is somewhat different.

The physical exercises given to the new cadet in “Beast Barracks” are
continued in camp. In addition, he is sent to the Gymnasium for swimming,
where a professional instructor is present to see that no one drowns, and to
teach the various strokes. As many of the cadets are adept swimmers upon
entrance, they are tested, and those found qualified are excused from further
attendance. The men who cannot swim, the real “land lubbers,” attend daily
until they are proficient.

The most diverting instruction, however, in plebe camp is the dancing
lesson. A civilian professor spends the summer at West Point to instruct the
fourth classmen in the Terpsichorean art. Every morning at hour intervals,
squads of cadets carrying their pumps march across the parade to Cullum
Hall. Here they remove their coats, put on their pumps, and line themselves
along the wall. The waltz step is first taught as the basis of all dancing, then
later the two-step, and, since the new dances have come upon us, the fox-
trot and one-step are rehearsed toward the end of the course. The dancing
lesson is not open to visitors. Once upon a time it was, but long cadets,
short cadets, fat cadets, lean cadets, awkward and graceful ones, all

tiptoeing, “one- and two- and threeing” around the room like a lot of coy
young hippopotami with compass bearings lost, became a famous sight for
tourists, who wanted to enjoy a good laugh. How could anyone learn to
dance in the presence of a giggling crowd! But the crowd wasn’t to blame!
Here in one corner was a little slender chap delicate as a reed, perspiring in
his efforts to steer his six-foot partner, a regular steam roller, through the
mazes of Professor Vesay’s old-fashioned waltz. Again, all over the room,
self-conscious boys in white shirt-sleeves were in a bewildered state trying
to execute the Professor’s directions:

“Right foot in second position—glide and cut!” Nowadays an officer
excludes all sightseers during the lesson.

The instruction of the plebe in infantry drill continues uninterruptedly, for it
is essential that he should not spoil the appearance of the rest of the
battalion. Together with swimming, dancing, and infantry drill, his morning
is completely occupied. After the midday dinner, he is assembled in squad
for instruction in hygiene and guard duty, or he may be required to spend
his time working upon his equipment, his brasses, his bayonet, and rifle.

Very little social diversion is permitted to the plebe, because he is usually
awkward in appearance and unfamiliar with military customs and
deportment. Consequently he considers that his life is excessively hard, to
him unnecessarily so; but as I have observed cadets for thirteen years I am
convinced of the wisdom of holding them in a distinct class for one year.
Then they emerge from the cocoon of plebedom as dazzling yearling
butterflies.

To afford instruction in guard duty the camp is surrounded by sentinels. A
quota of cadets from each company marches on guard immediately after
parade in the evening. There are three reliefs for each of the ten posts: three
corporals, a sergeant, and two officers of the guard, and an officer of the
day. The guard is under the control and supervision of the officer in charge,
who is one of the Tactical officers. Each sentinel walks two hours and rests
four, so that during the twenty-four hours the cadet walks eight hours. The
effect of this duty upon the cadet is lasting, for it teaches him the fatigue a
sentinel experiences and prevents him, when an officer, from demanding

too much of his men. The borders of the camp are divided into posts,
numbered from 1 to 10.

The first important duty demanded of the plebe is guard. With what
quivering sensations this youthful soldier approaches his first real test!
Before he goes on guard he is instructed in his orders, both general and
special, but few feel as if they knew them well enough to stand the ordeal of
an inspection by a yearling corporal. No opportunity is lost, therefore,
before the hour to march on post to perfect his knowledge, so that after
supper little groups of excited and nervous plebes study diligently these
orders under the pale and insect-infested lamp-posts near the guard tent. In
the obscure light these slim gray forms, some seated and some standing,
seem shadowy and motionless except for their gloves, little dabs of white
that move restlessly to and fro, attacking the ubiquitous mosquitoes.

The nearby guard tents under the elms are dark except the main one where
sit the officers of the guard, who keep the record of a stream of gay upper-
classmen, signing out for the hops and concerts. How far off they are to the
plebe! It seems to each one, as he watches them from the shadows, that
there is an impassable gulf between them, and he wonders as he listens to
their hurried voices calling, “Ducrot, hop with,” or “Dumbguard, hop with,
extended” if ever his year of plebedom will roll by. What are those
unintelligible remarks? It is some time before he understands that the above
expressions mean that Cadet Ducrot is taking a young lady to the hop, and
that Cadet Dumbguard also, except that the latter’s girl lives at some
distance so that he is allowed ten minutes more after the conclusion of the
dance to escort the young lady to her home. Today, as I stroll by the camp in
the evening and see the same scenes reënacted, I re-live the first
impressions of my own plebe days.

Often while I was waiting my turn to go on post, I sat fascinated as I
watched the scene at the guard tents in the twilight of the summer evenings.
From the obscurity of the camp, stalwart figures were constantly coming.
Their gray coats and the evening mists merged into one so completely, it
seemed as if only animated pairs of white trousers were flitting across the
parade, all converging toward Post No. 1. Little by little, as they approached
the light of the guard tent, the rays that were stabbing the darkness

illumined the bell buttons of the gray coats, and for a brief moment
gleaming forms with happy laughing faces filled the picture and then into
the darkness of the Plain quickly disappeared.

Such reveries, however, are usually interrupted by a sharp voice calling:

“Turn out the second relief!” “Hurry up, you plebes,” and away the
novitiates scamper to perform their first guard tour. As the relief marches
around the graveled paths under the command of a very military corporal,
the plebe has, in spite of his feeling of uncertainty, a sensation of pride in
being entrusted with the guard of a part of the camp. Each time that the
corporal commands “Relief Halt No. 2!” and the rifles hit the ground in
unison, a pleasurable thrill pervades his being, a consciousness of a certain
importance. Before very much pride can swell his breast, he is brought back
to reality by the stern corporal exclaiming, “Wake up, Mr. Dumbguard, and
come to port arms!” or “Drag in your chin!” In goes the chin, and the
shoulders instinctively draw to the rear. Glory was brief; humiliation reigns
anew.

Then commences in earnest the lonely two hours of marching up and down,
back and forth, at the end of which time the nine pounds of the rifle has
tripled at least. The arms ache, and legs feel as if they would bore holes in
the body.

The early part of the tour is filled with interest. The animation in some
company streets in contrast to the silence in others, the occasional tinkling
of mandolins, the cries from one tent to another, the laughter over a
surreptitious bucket of lemonade, the Y. M. C. A. phonograph, the
confusion over the wash lists, scampering cadets noisily returning from
hops and concerts—all keep a sentinel from thinking of himself. It is not
until the three taps of the drum, when the camp is magically plunged into
obscurity and silence, that the plebe begins to feel the monotony of his duty
and, while walking mechanically back and forth on his post, to become
introspective.

The stillness of the camp only accentuates his slow nonchalant step on the
path. In his imagination the air seems to be filled with invisible spirits—the
spirits of the night that have come forth. First he is conscious of only a few

timid ones here and there, but as the hours wear on they seem to grow
bolder and bolder, filling the surrounding atmosphere and whispering in his
ear their ghostly messages. Each nerve becomes more alert as he listens for
the crunch, crunch, crunch of some official step on the gravel. How vivid
and eerie seem his surroundings! The lonesome hours of the night strike a
sympathetic chord in his sensitive nature and the balmy stillness calls forth
his starry fancies. At this hour when his comrades lie in their tents
bewitched by sleep, the most beguiling of enchantments, he is conscious
that another mysterious world is awakening all around him in the solitude
and silence. The air is filled with fairies holding their imperceptible revels.
He hears the rustling of the leaves, the intermittent chattering of the
crickets, the soughing of the breeze in the branches, as if the trees in great
distress were calling mournfully to each other. Should this be the first time
that he is alone at night on post, he is a little afraid, and starts at the faintest
sound. It seems that when man reposes, the Things come forth to their daily
tasks, performed in a world unknown to us.

Never will he forget, however, the ineffable beauty of the scene, so
beautiful that he is filled with a little sadness. The buildings across the
Plain, stern and melancholy even in the darkness, seemed to be companion
sentinels ever watchful over their traditions, and guarding the sleeping hills
dimly discernible through their misty blankets. Occasionally a graceful
river steamer, like some huge Jack-o’-Lantern ruffling the smooth waters of
the Hudson, glides softly by under the cliff, her throbbing engines seeming
to send forth a certain warmth that dispels the chill of the early morning.

It is at this hour especially that his thoughts wander to his “ain Folk” and
reveal to his senses the full aroma of his days at home.

The clanking of a sword in the darkness calls him back to earth and to the
realization that the dreaded inspection is at hand.

“Halt! Who goes there?” he quickly challenges.

“Corporal of the Guard,” answers a sepulchral voice from the shadows.

“Advance, Corporal of the Guard, with the countersign,” uncertainly
commands the plebe. When within whispering distance, the corporal faintly

breathes the countersign, “Saratoga,” or “Burgoyne” (or maybe Tannhäuser
or Dumbguard, to test the sentinel), whereupon the corporal is allowed to
pass by the sentinel’s order:

“Advance, Corporal of the Guard.”

In the eyes of the yearling corporal, a plebe is habitually wrong, so that for
a few trying minutes the benighted sentinel endeavors to “take charge of his
post and all government property in view,” while his preceptor picks him to
pieces, his bearing, his accoutrements, his knowledge, admonishing him at
intervals, to “Drag in his chin—way in.” But soon, the solitude of the night
begins to work even upon the yearling corporal constraining him to indulge
in a partial intimacy with the plebe, adding in softened tones:

“Mister, where are you from?”

“South Carolina, sir,” proudly responds the sentinel, touched by the upper-
classman’s near-cordiality.

With a gruff “Pretty fine State, mister,” the corporal virtuously departs to
interrogate his next victim.

How welcome now is the first faint tread of the relief as it makes its bi-
hourly round to take the sleepy sentinel back to the guard tent where a bed
of camp stools awaits his aching muscles.

The tour of guard of a new cadet is sometimes made uncomfortable by the
pranks of the upper-classmen, although since the abolition of hazing at West
Point, this form of diversion has greatly diminished. The regulations against
hazing have been made so stringent that few cadets indulge in the practice.
As a matter of fact hazing no longer exists at the Military Academy. A few
heedless chaps from time to time, forgetful of the future, unconscious of the
heartburns that they will suffer later on, indulge in hazing the plebes, but
they pay the price for their fun. Formerly, hazing was tolerated among the
cadets because some of its features were not harmful or objectionable, but,

as in all cases where a little liberty is granted to lads of immature judgment,
license followed. The practice was carried too far and moderation ceased to
exist. In 1901, at the instance of a former cadet’s parents, Congress ordered
an investigation of hazing conditions, with the result that the Superintendent
was directed to abolish all semblance of mistreatment of plebes by upper-
classmen.

The more vicious practices disappeared at once, but from time to time
investigation revealed isolated cases of the innocent kind. In the days of
hazing, the favorite and most injurious punishment meted out to a plebe, if
he were at all fresh, or “B. J.” as the cadets say, was a series of exercises
known as “eagles.” The new man would be taken in a tent, stripped to the
waist, and compelled to execute a setting-up exercise, “Full bend knees.”
The knees are separated and bent as much as possible; point of knees forced
forward and downward, heels together; trunk and head erect; but instead of
placing the hands on the hips, he was required to raise the arms laterally. It
is not the exercise itself that was injurious, but the duration of the
punishment. Some men were required to “eagle” 100 or 150 times without a
rest, and if they had committed a particularly heinous offense, this physical
rebuke was administered under the broiling sun in the “catacombs.”
Another form of punishment consisted in making plebes, stripped to the
waist, hold pieces of matches or tissue paper, between their shoulder blades
for half an hour or more, while their tormentors stood around insisting that
they flatten their chins to their necks.

But this punishment was not viewed by the plebes with as much dismay as
was the servitude to “Tabasco Sauce.” The prowling yearlings would
descend into the Fourth Class sink, line up the plebes, and order them to
stick out their tongues, upon which they dashed a flop or two of the burning
liquid and fled. Sometimes, at the Mess Hall, as much as half a teaspoonful
was meted out for some unconscious transgression by the plebe of the
upper-classmen’s wishes. Fortunately the above practices have long since
disappeared.

On the other hand, the greater part of the hazing consisted of what is known
at college as “fagging,” such as dragging water, sweeping tents, making
beds, cleaning brasses and rifles, making lemonade, running errands,

sewing buttons on white trousers, etc. Each upper-classman selected a plebe
for his “special duty man” to perform the aforementioned tasks. Most of the
plebes did the duty cheerfully, buoyed up by the thought that next year their
turn to have a plebe would arrive. A large part of the hazing, moreover, was
the so-called “deviling” the plebes, a generic term applied to all kinds of
humorous and mischievous pranks. Any cadet, for example, who possessed
any peculiarity of size, appearance, or temperament was given a “tech” or
technical name, to be used always in lieu of his own. One of my classmates,
whose tent was in a part of the camp called “Paradise Alley,” was given in
consequence of his auburn hair the following “tech” with strict instructions
to use it no matter who asked him his name. In reply, therefore, to the same
inquiry, “Who are you?” many times daily, he scrupulously replied:

“I am a too-loo-loo bird, sir! Peep-y-ty-peep, sir! Poop-y-ty-poop! Ah! ...
there. I’m the sunshine of Paradise Alley, sir; I am a queen, sir. My hair is
sky-blue pink with a heavenly border, sir! Don’t you think I’m handsome,
sir? I don’t give a damn, sir!”

This “tech” became famous, the peep-y-ty-peep part fastening itself upon
him as a nickname. Of course, all of these pranks were carried on sub rosa
and presumedly without the sanction or knowledge of the authorities. One
night, however, the cadet was detailed for guard for the first time. It
happened that his tour of duty was from 2 A.M. to 4 A.M., those awful hours
of the night. “Peep-y-ty-peep” was patrolling his post ready to charge
anything that came along. Suddenly the huge shadow of a cavalry Tactical
officer with a rattling saber and jingling spurs loomed out of the darkness.
Frantically “Peep-y-ty-peep” charged down the post screaming, “Halt! Halt!
who’s thar?” (in good old Alabama English), until most of the sleeping
cadets in the vicinity of the post were awakened. After a few minutes of
backing and filling the massive cavalry officer arrived in front of the now
thoroughly bewildered “sunshine of Paradise Alley,” and began to ask him
his orders. Poor old “Peep-y-ty-peep” forgot them all, general and special.
After vain, fruitless efforts to obtain an expression of opinion of some sort
from the sentinel, this officer said in desperation: “Who are you, anyway?”
Whereupon perfectly seriously the rooky sentinel cried at the top of his
voice, while the nearby tents shook with laughter, “I’m a too-loo-loo bird,

sir! Peep-y-ty-peep, sir! Poop-y-ty-poop, sir! Ah...! there. I’m the sunshine
of Paradise Alley, sir! I’m—” The Tactical officer hurriedly disappeared.

Such incidents as the above kept the plebes from becoming too depressed.
The fun of the upper-classmen found many other outlets. On days when
watermelons were served in the Mess Hall, the plebes were required at the
conclusion of the meal to fill their mouths with seeds, and thus loaded to the
gunwales to march back to camp. The wriggling, squirming, slippery little
black particles fought with one another to burst open the encircling mouth
en cul de poule and leap to freedom, and occasionally their efforts were
successful, on the march back to camp, to the detriment of the blouse of the
plebe’s front rank file. More frequently, however, upon arrival at camp, the
plebes of A Co. were lined up at six paces from those of B Co., and at a
given signal the human machine guns belched forth their glossy black
bullets. One upper-classman ordered me to gather a handful from the
battlefield and plant them around his tent. To my dismay and chagrin they
sprouted, whereupon I was instructed to care for them, keep them in health
or sickness, and train the growing vines on slender cords.

The plebes were hardly allowed a moment to themselves. Every spare
moment was employed in cleaning guns, brasses and other equipment,
chiefly of upper-classmen for whom one happened to be a “special duty
man.” If some unoffending sparrows alighted in the company streets, half a
dozen yearling voices rang out, “Turn out, you plebes, and chase those
eagles!” Lads in all sorts and conditions of undress fell precipitately out of
their tents, bayonets in hand, to drive away the innocent feathered
marauders. If an upper-classman wished to know the time, he would yell,
“Quelle heure est-il?” a whole chorus replied, “Two o’clock, sir!” Again,
every plebe was required upon inquiry to give his P. C. S., or previous
condition of servitude. Those who had none, never having worked in their
lives, were made to answer “schoolgirl,” as a mark of immaturity and
unworldliness. Never was a plebe permitted to say: “I don’t know.” “Say
something, Mr. Dumbguard,” was the admonishment followed by: “If you
cannot think of anything, say ‘steamboat’! Never say that you don’t know!”

I once stood behind a man in ranks who weighed, he said, 190 pounds. I
weighed but 120. It became my daily duty to weigh and report to him how

much of his frail body I, as his near rank file, left uncovered and exposed to
the elements. When a plebe was on guard at night, some of the yearlings
would appear on his post covered with sheets which they fluttered at a great
rate.

“Halt! Who goes there?” cries the sentinel.

“A flock of angels,” was the reply, and before the sentinel could get the
corporal of the guard, the flock had flown.

The pièce de résistance of the camp was, however, a rat funeral for which
elaborate preparations were made. Efforts for days were exerted to catch a
rat or a mouse, but if neither could be beguiled into the trap, a grasshopper
served the purpose. In a plebe’s tent an imposing catafalque, equal to that
prepared for any crowned head, was constructed of wooden lockers covered
with black rubber ponchos. Upon the top of this bier surrounded by candles
was Mr. Rat.

During the night preceding the obsequies a guard of honor of the plebes,
fantastically dressed, kept a running watch over the fast-stiffening rodent.
Next day, after drill, came the funeral. Orders were issued by the upper-
classmen for all plebes to attend and for those having musical instruments
to appear with them. One plebe was detailed to act as chaplain and prepare
the funeral oration, another as leader of the band, another as chief mourner.
The remainder of the plebes were the afflicted relatives whose weeds were
the most bizarre and fantastic costumes that they could create. In the
procession, therefore, were plebes in underdrawers and dress coats buttoned
in the rear, hats reversed, breeches with no shoes, shoes without breeches,
ponchos over nature only, and sometimes in puris naturalibus. Each
mourner, moreover, came with a galvanized bucket to catch his tears.

First appeared the band composed of mandolins and guitars, a stray violin,
and perhaps a lonely cornet, followed by the deceased borne upon a canvas
stretcher strewn with dandelions. To the tune of Chopin’s funeral march, the
grotesquely arrayed mourners followed the bier, chanting from time to time

a parody written for the music and entitled “Somebody Hit Me with a
Codfish Ball!” At a signal from the chief mourner the cortège halted to
allow the plebes to deliver themselves with abandon to their grief. By order,
they raised the galvanized buckets to catch the “tears that stopped the flood-
gates of their eyes,” while they filled the air with agonized mournings and
lamentations. If the sobbing and blubbering appeared too faint, the upper-
classmen who lined the route increased the wailings by yelling, “Weep
louder, you plebes!”

At the grave, somewhere in the rear of the camp, the “chaplain,” “Daddy”
Singles, spoke feelingly of the departed one’s nobility of soul. The gnawing
grief of the multitude gave way once more to despair (and usually to
laughter) as they lowered into the ground poor old Mr. Rat, whose rigid
whiskers gave him an amused expression, as if he were enjoying his
honorable end.

After two months’ training in camp, the cadets return to barracks to begin
their academic duties. At once, all nonsense ceases, and the new cadet is in
no wise interfered with, even in fun. The routine changes completely and
the day becomes fuller. Reveille is a half hour later, but the work increases
and there are fewer leisure moments.

It is to the more serious and inexorable side of his training that the cadet
must now turn. Life in barracks is more sedate, more formal, more cold
than the free existence of camp where he and his comrades were living
close to Nature. The time has arrived to renounce the pleasure of sleeping in
the open, of breathing the fragrant out-of-doors, of living in the midst of
scenery that appeals to every æsthetic faculty. It is in the rooms of barracks
that the next nine months must be passed, the severe unadorned rooms
whose bareness, however, is forgotten in the ineffable sweetness of the
friendship of one’s roommate. At no place, perhaps, are closer friendships
formed than at West Point. They are not of the whirlwind kind so common
elsewhere today, that sweep one off his feet for the time being. Nor are they
like some great roaring wind that shakes one’s nature to its depths and then
leaves him bruised and torn, but wide awake at last, to spend its force in

other directions. Rather are they friendships of slower growth, but deep and
sincere, belonging more to a mature age than to the irresponsible years of a
cadet when his enthusiasm, his likes and dislikes, seem to be the only things
necessary to foster.

The difficulties of his studies, the homesickness, the fatigue of the drills, the
irksomeness of the routine, are all lightened by the intimacy with his chum,
by the smile of sympathy, or the word of encouragement that greets him at
all times. It is a great privilege to live in close contact with a human being
and be allowed a glimpse into his soul. It compensates for all the stony
paths of life, for all hardships, and sends one forth to his duties with a
feeling of joy and gladness, strong in heart and thankful to God.

In every room in barracks dwell two chums, each the “wife” of the other.
The increased number of cadets and the negligence of Congress to provide
extra barracks have caused the introduction of Mormonism, for in some
rooms are three chums, each with two “wives.”

The most striking feature about the rooms is their plainness. Here the cadet
is “allowed not more than nature needs,” or scarcely more, for an inventory
of the furniture discloses two iron cots, one iron washstand, two plain
wooden tables, two wooden chairs, and two steel clothespresses. The walls
and floors are bare, for the Regulations prohibit rugs, carpets, pictures,
placards, banners, or any other adornment. Upon the plain black iron mantel
in the middle is a mirror, flanked by black tin frames containing the hours
of instruction and a time schedule designed to indicate at all times the
whereabouts of the occupants of the room. Not to have the hours of
instruction correctly posted is a military offense. No matter where the cadet
is, at recitation, barber shop, church, lecture, hospital, library, his card must
so indicate. In addition, a small inexpensive clock may be kept on the
mantel.

To give each occupant of the room a little privacy, a wooden partition juts
out half way into the room dividing this space into two alcoves, in which
are placed the cots. During the day the mattresses are folded and upon them
the bedding is piled. Only during release from quarters, and after 9:00 P.M.,
are the beds allowed to be made down and used. Along the sides of each
alcove are hooks for the clothing, which must be hung in a prescribed

manner; for example, 1st hook, raincoat; 2d hook, overcoats; 3d, sweater
coat, and so on. The shoes are aligned toes out, along the side of the bed, in
a definite order, the high overshoes as right guide, then the low overshoes,
and other shoes according to height.

Upon the top of the clothespress are the books, arranged according to
height, newspapers, periodicals, stationery, cameras, and tobacco. In the
shelf section each of the various articles of clothing has a prescribed place,
and in the coat section the uniforms are hung in a regular order. Only on the
top shelf of the clothespress may the cadet keep a photograph.

In front of and against the alcove partition is the washstand with its two
wash bowls. The water, hot and cold, is drawn from a hydrant in the hall.
This arrangement is a great luxury in comparison with the old days when, to
heat water for shaving, we poured it over a joint in the radiator.

In barracks as in camp there is a room orderly who is responsible for the
condition, cleanliness, and general police of all parts of the room. The
cadets sweep their own rooms and make their own beds. The halls are swept
by the civilian policemen, who also scrub periodically the floors of both
rooms and halls. By Regulations, cadets are not allowed valets, nor are they
permitted to own an automobile, horse, or dog.

The cadets are in uniform, of course, at all times. Every detail of their
clothing is prescribed. The collars, for example, must project above the coat
collar just one eighth of an inch, and a like display of cuff is required. Only
certain kinds of shoes may be worn, and certain kinds of gloves both for
drills and hops. Although not prescribed by Regulations, a custom of long
standing among the cadets prohibits the plebes from wearing their overcoats
with the end of the capes thrown back over the shoulder, nor may they wear
lisle thread gloves to chapel, but must content themselves with the thick,
coarse Berlin gun glove. The lowered capes of the plebes give them an air
of humility alongside of the upper-classmen, and the gun gloves accentuate
the crudity of the poor plebe’s military appearance.

The day is filled with duties. From the return of the Battalion from
breakfast until 8:00 A.M., is a study period. From 8:00 A.M. until 12:35 P.M.,
the different classes attend recitations in the prescribed courses, or perhaps

have instruction in gymnastic exercises or in riding. Dinner comes at 12:40
P.M., after which recitations are held until 3:50 P.M. In the fall and spring
drills commence at 4:00 P.M., followed by parade at 5:30 P.M., and retreat
and supper at 6:30 P.M.

Cadets do not proceed individually to their classrooms, but are formed in
the area of barracks in sections, under the command of a section marcher,
who, after reporting to the officer of the day any absentees, marches his
men to their section rooms.

In like manner there is a meal formation. The Battalions are formed in front
of barracks and marched by the two senior captains to the Mess Hall. Just as
much observance to step, alignment, and bearing is required as though
marching to parade.

Upon entering the hall, “at ease” is commanded, whereupon the cadets
proceed quietly to their places at table and remain standing back of their
chairs until the cadet captain commands: “A Co., take seats.” The food is
always ready so there is no delay. Thirty minutes are allowed for breakfast
and supper, and forty for dinner.

As soon as seated, cadets begin to talk and laugh. The only restriction upon
them is that they must conduct themselves at mess like young gentlemen.
No throwing of food or waste is tolerated. One first-classman, known as the
table commandant, is in charge of each table and is held responsible for all
breaches of regulations upon the part of the cadets thereat.

Civilian waiters bring the food from the kitchen and place it upon the table.
The cadets are then required to help themselves. Custom makes the three or
four plebes at each table perform the most onerous duties. One plebe,
known as the “water corporal” pours the water and milk. Another, the “meat
corporal,” carves the “bone,” and another, the “gunner,” pours the coffee,
and exercises a general supervision over the supply. Their duties keep them
very busy, for the upper-classmen constantly demand food.

Marching to Barracks from Dinner
The Academic Buildings

The life at the Mess Hall is replete with customs, and the vocabulary of the
cadets filled with terms unintelligible to the uninitiated. Some of their
customs would not be approved in polite society but would be, perhaps, by
modern efficiency. If, for example, a man at the end of the table wishes
more water or milk, bang! goes his glass on the table preliminary to its
flight through the air to the outstretched nervous hands of the “water
corporal.” The plebe eats in spasms, so to speak, one eye on his food, and
the other on the alert for aërial glasses.

“How’s the cow?” yells an upper-classman, meaning how much milk is in
the pitcher.

“Almost dry, sir!” replies the plebe.

“Milk her again!” is commanded as the glass comes speeding down.

Every morning the “gunner” who sits at the end of the table, in capacity of
hostess, so to speak, “sounds off” the number of days until June. Instead of
grace, he commences the meal, “282 days until June, sir!” On the 300th,
200th, 100th day before June, the plebes write speeches in which they are
allowed great latitude in satirizing the upper-classmen. The yearling who
has been particularly annoying during the year sees all of his faults held up
to ridicule, but he must swallow his medicine at the hands of the plebe.

It is a real treat to see the men at mess. No melancholy stillness pervades
the Mess Hall. One can hardly hear himself in the din of rattling dishes,
knives, forks, the peals of laughter, the roar of eight hundred voices all
talking at once, punctuated by the plebes repeatedly shrieking, “Bread!
please!” or whatever they want. In beholding them, one realizes vividly the
meaning of the expression “teeming with life.”

Occasionally, orders are read in the Mess Hall by the Adjutant. It would
seem impossible to get the attention of the cadets, but when he commands:

“Bát-tál-yón ... at-ten-tion!” the roar almost instantly subsides, like a
balloon suddenly pierced. A wave of silence engulfs the hall, accentuated at
times by the fall of a fork or spoon on the tiled floor. Quietly the cadets sit,
as the Adjutant reads his order, on “skins” (delinquencies). There are no soft
notes in his tone. They are all fortissimo and run together until they become
“monotonous,” like the hum of a factory. Some mischievous cadet, unable
to bear the enforced inactivity, enlivens a small group around him by
stealthily firing a bread ball at an unobserving neighbor.

Each cadet has a silver napkin ring with his name and class inscribed
thereon. At graduation all of the rings are melted into a loving cup which is
given to the member of the class who has the first son. This child is known
as the “Class boy.”

Just before the conclusion of the meal the first captain makes an inspection,
calls the Mess Hall to attention, and commands: “1st Battalion, rise.” The
cadets file out quietly, form in front of the Mess Hall, and return to their
barracks.

The rooms are subjected to a continual series of inspections. First, there is a
rather superficial inspection by the subdivision inspectors, cadets of the
First Class, twenty minutes after reveille. They give the rooms a coup d’œil
chiefly to see that the floors have been swept and the bedding folded and
piled. During the forenoon, the Tactical officer in charge of the company
makes a careful survey of everything. This is known as the “Tac”
inspection, and may occur any time from 8:00 A.M. to 11:00 A.M. Until the
“Tac” makes his morning visit the cadets are required to wear their
uniforms buttoned. The majority of the cadets sit around in their sweater
coats until they hear the authoritative knock of the “Tac” on the doors of the
first-floor rooms. They then quickly don their blouses until after he leaves,
when sweaters are again brought forth. This time is a study period and it is
almost impossible to concentrate on problems that make you feel like
tearing your hair, when dressed in a tight-fitting uniform.

When roommates attend morning recitations at different periods, the first-
hour men are notified of the inspection by their comrades who leave the
mirror turned to the wall as a signal, or, sometimes, just a sign—“He has.”
Once a Tactical officer with a sense of humor traced in the dust across the
face of a cadet’s mirror, during his absence, “He has.”

Upon the return from first-hour recitations the divisions ring with shouts,
“Has he?” “Has he?” mingled with the cries to the plebe mail carrier of,
“Mr. Dumbguard, has the mail?”

After dinner the officer of the day inspects to see that the cadets are not
visiting and that the rooms are in order. During the evening study periods,
from about 7:30 to 9:30 P.M., the cadet sentinels posted in the halls of
barracks inspect three times. They open the doors of each room, inquiring,
“All right, sir?” whereupon the occupants reply, “All right, sir!” or “Cadet
Ducrot is absent.” The reply “All right” signifies that all occupants are
present, or if any are absent that their absence is authorized. Any cadet who
intentionally makes an incorrect report is dismissed from the Academy.

The day ends, as it begins, with an inspection of the subdivision inspectors.
At the three taps of the drum in the Area, cries of “Lights out!” fill the air.

The buildings are plunged into darkness except for a dim hall light, and the
inspectors, armed with bull’s-eye lanterns, flit through the halls like nervous
fireflies. Each door is hurriedly opened; a beam of light seeks first one bed
then the next, while the dark form on the threshold calls out sharply, “All
in?” “All in, sir!” replies the room orderly from the depths of the alcove.
Bang! goes the door and the shadow disappears. From all the divisions the
fireflies swarm into the Area and align themselves like a string of shining
beads in front of the officer of the day to whom they report.

For all breaches of regulations the cadets are reported, “skinned” in their
parlance. The list of delinquencies is read out at retreat, and the next
morning the cadet must submit a written explanation of the offense. The
majority of the reports are for minor offenses, such as lates, absences,
inattention, buttons off uniform, and so on. Ordinarily, no explanation for
these offenses is requested, although the cadet has a right to offer one if he
so desires. The more serious offenses, however, must be explained.

In their explanations cadets must confine their statements to plain facts. No
criticism or argumentation is allowed. Occasionally some wit transcends the
limit and amuses himself for the moment at the expense of his conduct
grade. Once a report was entered against a cadet for having worn his night-
shirt to the Drawing Academy. It seems that, lacking a plain white shirt, he
hastily donned a night-shirt, stuffing the flowing tails in his trousers. He
was betrayed, however, by the blue embroidery down the front. An
instructor, seeing the queer garment, reported the cadet. Since he had been
obliged to attend a number of lectures in drawing, at which he invariably
fell asleep, he submitted the following facetious explanation to the
Commandant of Cadets:

Sir:

In explanation of the report “wearing a night-shirt to the Drawing Academy
on the 10th inst.” I have the honor to state that I heard that there was to be a
lecture in drawing; consequently, I wore my night-shirt.

I need not add that he walked a number of punishment tours for his wit.

The punishments that may be awarded a cadet are:

(a) Confinements; that is, restriction to room during release from quarters.
Restriction of limits.
Deprivation of privileges.
Punishment tours.
Reprimands.
Reduction of officers or non-commissioned officers to the grade of
private.
Loss of furlough.
(b) Suspension.
Dismissal.

Punishment tours are of one-hour duration, during which time the cadet
walks an assigned beat. On Wednesday and Saturday afternoons the Area is
filled with cadets walking to and fro, like pendulums, each tracing in the
gravel a little path. They resemble in their animation the goings and
comings of a colony of ants. No cadet enjoys walking tours. It is viewed as
a particularly disagreeable punishment, much worse than serving a
confinement in one’s room, where he may “bone fiction,” chasing away the
gloom of imprisonment with some interesting book. In the winter months
the chill and snow fill their thoughts and hearts as they pace to and fro,
beating their hands together for warmth. But it is in the autumn and spring
when the athletic contests with outside teams take place that the misery of
walking tours becomes terribly acute. The cheering of the fortunate cadets

witnessing the games is like some magnet which draws and draws. The
longing must be resisted and stifled while they continue upon their
monotonous walk, chained to an inexorable task.

The work demanded of a cadet is hard, but without the restrictions,
obstacles, the petty annoyances, the young plebe that comes to West Point
so plastic and yielding would never grow and develop. At first the
limitations that surround him baffle and bewilder him for a time, but as the
days pass by and he begins to be imbued with the spirit of the Corps, and to
feel the traditions and atmosphere of West Point, he insensibly rises
superior to every annoying restriction. He may indulge in occasional
grumbling and ill-humor but what of that? He knows now that a reason
exists for every obstacle, and he sees in the hardships a way that leads to the
development of his higher self. His moral force is gradually crystallized and
he gains the spirit of willingness to do his duty toward the Academy and his
little bit in keeping strong the spirit of West Point.

The main idea of West Point after all is to develop the mind and character of
the cadet, to instill into him the proper ideas of discipline. It does not aim
for a discipline where a man’s spirit or will is broken, so that he obeys
through fear, but a discipline of the soul, wherein a cadet performs his duty
for the deed’s sake. Without this high moral spirit, no army can be
successful, despite the most brilliant galaxy of officers.

CHAPTER VII
THE DISCIPLINE OF THE MIND

T HE longer a cadet remains at West Point, the clearer and finer
becomes his point of view. During the first few months of his career,
a glimpse of which we had in the previous chapter, he is so busy
learning the mechanism of the drills, the care of his person and equipment,
and familiarizing himself with all of the strange names and unusual customs
of military life that his point of view is more or less clouded.

Little by little, during the summer encampment, as soon as the newness of
his surroundings begins to wear away, he finds himself undergoing a change
of heart; he experiences a new feeling and appreciation of his work and a
sort of exhilaration of discovering the progress that he is making in his daily
tasks. For example, instead of going out to parade in a dazed and
mechanical manner, he marches forth filled with pride that he is really a
member of so élite a Corps. He strives to do his bit with all his might. He
lends a close attention to all commands so that no act of his will mar the
appearance of his company, and does his utmost to assume the correct
position of a soldier that is incessantly dinned into his ears by the ever alert
file closers. He feels that he is changing, but does not understand just how.
In reality his point of view is swinging around, it is clearing up, and the new
cadet is beginning to be animated with the spirit of West Point.

The scales seem to drop from his eyes. He is no longer concerned so
completely with his troubles and difficulties, with his inability to get into
his white trousers without mussing them badly, with his capacity for doing
“wooden” things, or with all of the thousand and one little heartburns for
things done and left undone.

On the contrary, the incidents of his surroundings that are unrelated to
himself begin to interest him. With quiet amusement he watches the antics
of the yearlings, envying them their careless nonchalant air. His heart goes

out in sympathy to some fellow plebe who has just incurred the displeasure
of an upper-classman. He secretly admires the military bearing of the cadet
officers, the fit of their blouses, their erect and graceful carriage. To him
they represent the ideal in the flesh toward which he is striving. There is a
certain something about the manner in which they perform their duties that
inspires the plebe to extra efforts. In the hope of receiving a word of praise
from the cadet captain at inspection before parade, an extra rub is given to
the rifle or breastplate, and more care is taken in climbing into those stiff
white trousers. He listens with the greatest interest to the chatter about the
approaching Academic term and accepts with gratitude the counsels
sometimes offered him by the cadet captain.

As the camp draws to a close, not only the captain but all of the upper-
classmen give the plebe gratuitous advice about the coming Academic year.
At every formation while awaiting the sounding of the assembly, little
groups gather in the company streets and interrogate the plebes as to their
previous mental training. A note of restlessness begins to pervade the camp
as the month of September draws nigh. Once again the books must be taken
down from the shelves and hours of study devoted to the solution of
problems.

The plebe views the close of the camp with a sigh of relief mingled with not
a little anxiety. It is true that he is glad to get into barracks where he will
have a little more personal liberty, and be free from the incessant drilling,
drilling. On the other hand, the opening of the Academic year fills him with
some misgivings about his ability to master the studies and fulfill his
ambition to become an officer.

Before he is really aware of the flight of the days, September the first has
arrived. He leaves the life of camp where almost the entire day has been
devoted to military exercises of one sort or another and plunges into the
Academic work. A new sort of life begins and the routine of the day is
readjusted. With determination he sets out to climb the stony path of
knowledge that alone will lead him to his commission. The branch of the
service that he will eventually select is as yet unknown to him, but as he
proceeds in his career at the Academy he will have a taste of the duties of

each arm, and he will later on be able to choose his branch with
intelligence.

The beauty about the West Point system of training officers is that it
educates them for all branches of the Army, for the line and for the staff.
When a man graduates, he is assigned either to the Corps of Engineers, the
Ordnance, Artillery, Cavalry, or Infantry according to his choice based on
his class standing. The highest men usually select the Corps of Engineers,
although it is not unusual for a man who is recommended for the Engineers
by the Academic Board to choose some branch of the mobile Army.

The curriculum to which our young cadet must devote nine months of the
year is highly scientific and technical. The corner-stone of the course is
mathematics, and the great mass of the structure is made up of the exact
sciences. Primarily, the curriculum is designed to give the cadet a liberal
education and to turn out a man with sharpened mental processes. It does
not lay the greatest emphasis upon the training of cadets in the practical
duties that pertain to any particular arm or corps. The reasons for this are
very sound.

It is the belief of all officers who have given the question of military
education any thoughtful study that the first requisite of any army is a corps
of officers trained in the essentials of their profession. What really does this
mean? It simply means that officers of the Army should be well educated
men, not only those who are to go into the technical branches such as the
Engineers and the Ordnance, but the line officers as well. The authorities at
West Point have therefore developed a broad scientific course, fully
convinced that the mental discipline, powers of investigation, and accurate
reasoning necessary in solving problems in the exact sciences are the same
mental qualities that are needed whether in planning a great campaign,
building a Panama Canal, or fighting the savage Moro in the distant
Philippines.

The advisability of giving all cadets, those destined for the line as well as
for the staff, the same education has been questioned more than once. As
long ago as 1843, a Board of Officers, of which General Scott was
president, made certain criticisms of the course of instruction. It is

interesting to quote the answer made by the Academic Board, for the ideas
set forth therein express in general the opinions held today:

The Academic Board believes that one of the most important objects of
the Academy is to subject each cadet, previous to his promotion to a
higher grade in the Army, to a thorough course of mental as well as
military discipline to teach him to reason readily and accurately to
apply right principles to cases of daily occurrence in the life of a
soldier. They are satisfied that a strict course of mathematical and
philosophical study, with applications to the various branches of
military science, is by far the best calculated to bring about this end,
and that the present scientific course at the Academy, the result of the
experience of many years, is in its main feature such a course.

They are aware that many of the cadets, as is the case with most of
those who pursue a scientific course at other institutions, will have
little occasion to make practical applications of the many mathematical
problems that they meet, and that they may have passed over certain
problems without thoroughly understanding their meaning in all their
points. Still, if the course has been thoroughly taught, the reasoning
faculties will have been strongly exercised and disciplined and a
system of habit and thought acquired which is invaluable in the pursuit
of any profession, and as desirable for the infantry or dragoon officer
as for any other officer in the service. The officer whose mind has thus
been disciplined and who is not forgetful of the duty he owes to the
government that has furnished him with opportunities so valuable, will
acquire facts and information in whatever station the interests of the
service may place him. This discipline and system he will learn at an
early age only, and nowhere so well as during his term of service at the
Academy.

In recent years, strong influences have been brought to bear on the
Academy to change the course so as to make it more practical. The
advocates of this change ignore the ends toward which West Point’s course
works, heretofore successfully, and desire to see cadets leave West Point
with what they call a practical knowledge of the different arms. This means
that they wish the graduated cadet to join his regiment well versed in the

routine work of the Army, and would have West Point take precious time
from mental training to teach a more complete knowledge of the
mechanism of the drills. If West Point followed this advice, the graduated
cadet would have a difficult road in solving the big problems that will arise
in his career. If in the West Point course emphasis were laid upon the
practical work rather than upon the intellectual training, then the cadet
would simply be storing up knowledge instead of learning how to think.
When therefore any situation would arise, the tendency would be to make a
requisition upon the storehouse for a solution. If there is no similar situation
tucked away on the shelves of memory, that will serve as a guide, he will in
many cases be at a loss how to proceed. Not so, however, if his mind has
been trained correctly. He will work out his own solution.

Many people believe that the whole science of the military profession is
embraced in a book of drill regulations whose practical demonstration on
the drill and parade grounds constitutes all that is necessary to make a
successful officer. They do not realize that battles are won first with the
brain and then with the sword. They rather regard the work of officers much
the same as manual labor that anyone can do, and they do not admit that
any great amount of mental training for the officers is necessary.

I do not wish to give the impression that there is no practical training at the
Academy—far from it. But I am glad to say that it has been allotted its
proper place in the course. Once the theory is mastered, the practical is
quickly learned afterwards. Any cadet with a trained mind can readily learn
the practical duties that may be demanded of him as an officer.

It is an astonishing fact that I have heard West Point methods criticised in
the Army because a young graduate upon joining his regiment did not know
how to make out a morning report! Why should he? The fact that any boy
of average intelligence can learn to make one out in fifteen minutes should
be a complete answer to all demands that cadets should be taught these
trivialities at the Academy.

The criticism leveled at West Point by officers of the Army is unjust. Older
officers expect too much of the graduated cadet. I have noticed that they
demand of these young men, immediately upon joining, the same mature

conception and efficient execution of certain duties as they themselves are
able to display only after years of experience.

Upon graduation from West Point, I dare say that there is no more
highminded, well-trained, and efficient body of young men in the world.
The graduates join their commands brimming over with youth, intelligence,
enthusiasm, and energy and ruled by intense loyalty. They want to do what
is right. They want to go forward in their profession. They make every
effort to perform well their duties. All that they need are leaders among
their superiors who will develop their aspirations. Sometimes they
encounter a distinct air of hostility, occasionally a petty attitude on the part
of some older officers whose one ambition is to “put them in their place,”
and, too frequently, simply indifference. The result is that the young officers
quickly become a prey to the red tape, the dull routine, the narrowness of
post life, or to the mental inertia of prolonged duty upon the border where
almost every stimulating influence is absent. If only there were enough
good leaders to take this wonderful material that the Academy sends forth
annually and develop it, there is no telling to what heights these young
officers would rise.

But to return to our plebe who makes his début in Academic work
September the first. The evening before has been spent in earnest
preparation for the lesson in mathematics, and he sets forth on this early
autumn day to grapple with the hardest study of his course.

First call for recitation is sounded at seven minutes before eight o’clock.
The trumpeter, an enlisted man of the Army, blows “school call” first in the
area of barracks, then outside of the north sally-port, on the Plain side of the
buildings. The call is repeated several times, and as its notes float out on the
air, the barracks begin to disgorge the cadets, sometimes singly, but more
often in groups of twos and threes. The more prompt ones pile out on the
cement walk, standing near their places in the ranks to await the assembly.
The majority are laughing and talking or discussing the lesson, while others,
thirsting for knowledge until the last, keep their noses in their books. Their
comrades sometimes tease them, calling them “tenth-boners” in good-
natured derision, or steal up behind them and shut their books for them

saying, “Oh, come off spec-ing tenths,” which means to desist from
studying at the last moments to better the mark.

At one minute before assembly the cadet officer of the day, a straight young
man in a red sash and red crossbelt (bound up, as Patsy O’Hara of 1904
wittily remarked, in his official red tape), takes his post in the center of the
area and commands: “Form your sections!”

Instantly books are slammed, all noises, talking, laughing, skylarking,
cease, and the scattered gray figures seem to magically form themselves
into compact little squads under the direction of their section marchers who
stand out in front counting them. The door of the Guardhouse opens and the
O. C. (officer in charge) appears upon the “poop deck,” stern, implacable,
almost sphinx-like, and surveys coldly the formation. For the brief space of
a few seconds all is quiet except for the occasional shuffling of a section
that has misjudged its proper space. Then the trumpeter sounds the
assembly. A few belated men are tearing to their places in ranks, running a
race with the fading notes of the trumpet and landing bang! into the rear
rank just in time to keep from being reported absent. The kind-hearted
trumpeter often takes a deeper breath (especially in winter when he sees the
belated ones recklessly dashing across the icy walks), and holds on to those
last notes of assembly in a way that was never intended by the composer.
God bless him!

Meanwhile the instructors are in the section rooms awaiting the arrival of
their classes. Here and there in the windows of the rooms facing the area is
an instructor gazing upon this class formation that is the same today as it
was years ago, and that awakens in him a flood of memories of his own
cadet days when he too set out to recite to an instructor who never seemed
quite human. As he looks at the cadets forming, he realizes how distinctly
the institution creates its types, and he is able to pick out certain individuals
and say to himself:

“There goes so and so of my class!”

The great charm of West Point is that so many things never change. Some
of the cadets, sons of graduates, are doing exactly as their fathers did at

their age, and again a few cadets are reacting the youth of their
grandfathers.

While the instructor is watching the cadets in the area, the section marcher
reports to the officer of the day all absentees in his section which he then
marches off to the Academic Building. On the sections come in military
formation straight to the classroom door. The halls of the building resound
to the tramping of many feet as the cadets march along with muffled tread,
thanks to O’Sullivan rubber heels that are fitted to every pair of shoes.
When opposite the classroom door the section marcher commands:

“Section halt! Fall out!”

The cadets hang up their caps in the hall, file into the room, and stand
rigidly at attention behind their desks. The section marcher enters, closes
the door, takes his position in the center of the room facing the instructor,
salutes, and reports:

“Sir, all are present,” or “Cadet Ducrot is absent.”

Mr. Ducrot now makes his acquaintance with Mathematics, the study that
determines more than any other his standing at West Point. From the day
that he commences his studies he feels that he must devote the greater
amount of time to this subject, and with reason. A perusal of the tables of
instruction shows that the greater proportion of time and weight is allotted
to the mathematical studies. The total amount of time provided for in the
course of instruction, including riding and gymnasium, is 192,900 minutes.
If gymnasium and riding are deducted (11,205 and 10,860 minutes,
respectively) there are left 170,835 minutes devoted to Academic work. Of
this amount the pure mathematical subjects are allotted 76,555 minutes, and
the non-mathematical subjects, 94,280 minutes.

These figures represent the time that is actually spent in the recitation work.
To give an accurate idea of the draught of these subjects upon the cadet’s
time, however, we should estimate the amount of time required for
preparation plus the time spent in the section room. The lessons are so
assigned that these preparations take the average cadet twice the time
allotted to the recitation. Thus, in subjects having an hour and twenty-five

minute recitations, the average cadet is expected to spend two hours and
fifty minutes in preparation; and in subjects having one hour periods, two
hours of preparation. Practical Surveying and Drawing are subjects for
which no preparation is required.

Adding the preparation time to the recitation time we find the total relative
amounts of time as follows:

Mathematical Subjects. Non-Mathematical Subjects.
76,555 94,280
136,940 145,440
213,495 239,720

The time devoted to mathematical subjects is divided among only five
departments, whereas the time divided among non-mathematical subjects is
divided among nine departments. Again, each subject is weighted and the
five mathematical subjects have almost as many units as the nine non-
mathematical subjects. Out of the 2325 units required for graduation
(leaving out of account the 200 allotted to conduct) the five mathematical
departments have 1065 and the nine other departments have 1260. It is no
wonder that Mr. Ducrot wishes to make an auspicious beginning in a study
that is so important to his future career. The conduct of the recitation that he
attends for the first time is about the same in every department. In
Mathematics, which is an exact science, the system is perhaps a little more
rigid than in some of the non-mathematical departments.

As soon as the cadets have taken their seats the instructor asks:

“Are there any questions on the lesson?”

The cadets are then at liberty to ask for an explanation of any part of the
lesson that they have not been able to comprehend. The officer uses his
judgment as to the amount of time to be thus consumed. Sometimes he will
take up half the recitation period to clear up the obscurities of the lesson,
but if he has one of the lower sections he sometimes has to be on his guard,

for the cadets on the days of hard lessons astutely ask many questions in
order to consume the recitation period. I know one officer who always
outwitted these youthful diplomats when they attempted to stave off the
recitation. He would begin speaking so rapidly that no one could interrupt:

“Any questions-pages-one-two-three-four-too-late-close-your-books. Mr.
Ducrot-take-the-first-front-board.”

Each cadet is sent to the blackboard with an enunciation, that is, some phase
of the lesson to discuss, or perhaps the instructor may question a few men.
The cadet writes his name on the board in the upper right-hand corner and
proceeds to place upon the slate enough data to assist him in his recitation.
In Mathematics, he solves his problem; in other subjects the topic that he
will develop orally.

As soon as the cadet is ready to recite he takes a pointer in his hand and
faces the instructor and stands at attention until called upon. In order to test
thoroughly the cadet’s reasoning powers the instructor will sometimes lead
him on along a false path, practically making the recitation himself, saying:

“Is not that so?” and again, “Is that not so?”

To which the lad, if not thoroughly sure of himself, will be betrayed into
replying:

“Yes, sir!” “Yes, sir!”

Finally when the deduction has been rendered ridiculous, the officer will
sharply say:

“That is perfectly absurd.” The cadet receives a lesson that he does not
forget. Once or twice as a cadet I was in this position and I know the
feeling.

After each cadet is heard, he is given other problems with which to wrestle
while the other cadets are reciting. When a principle of particular
importance is to be demonstrated, all of the cadets are required to face

about and give their close attention in order that they may all benefit from
the instruction.

During a recitation a visit may be expected at any time from the Professor
or Head of the Department. Upon his entrance, the cadets all rise and stand
at attention until they are told to proceed with their work.

The Professor either listens to the cadets recite or conducts the recitation
himself. The recitation continues until the bugler blows the “Recall” in the
area. What a welcome sound is this to those few who have spent the hour at
the board, without reciting, vainly staring at the blank slate in the hope of
drawing some inspiration from its cold surface! They have been “bugling,”
waiting for the bugle to sound “Recall.” They quickly drop chalk, eraser,
pointer, and joyfully file out of the room exchanging with their co-
conspirators sympathetic smiles, and surreptitiously “rubbing their bellies,”
as a sign of excessive joy.

The instructor at West Point has one great advantage over his fellow
instructors in the colleges. His time is not occupied with trifling on the part
of the students. The cadets are so thoroughly disciplined by the Tactical
Department that their deportment in class is irreproachable. It is very rare
that the recitation is interrupted to make corrections other than academic.
The cadets are held to a high standard of discipline all the time. In class
they are not permitted to communicate with one another, but they talk freely
with the instructor about points in the lesson.

So much for the actual recitation, the conduct of which seems so smooth
and simple. In the background, however, there is an admirable organization
that strives for a maximum of efficiency in the instruction.

Every department consists of the Professor or Head of the Department, an
assistant professor, and the requisite number of instructors which varies
with the size of the classes. In the Departments of Mathematics and Modern
Languages, each of which instructs two classes, the Professor is aided by an
associate professor, besides the assistants.

The Professor is in complete control of his entire department. He prepares
the courses of instruction, recommends the adoption of new text-books, or

abolition of those in use, apportions the work among his instructors,
conducts and supervises the conferences of his instructors, prepares and
supervises the examination of the classes pursuing his course, is responsible
for all property belonging to his department, and is the channel through
which must pass all reports and official communications relating to
departmental affairs.

In nearly all of the departments the Professor is able to standardize the
instruction of the cadets by means of conferences with his instructors. These
meetings are informal, partaking more of the nature of a conversazione in
which the Professor outlines his wishes to his officers, emphasizing the
points of the lesson that he wishes brought out. The conferences also offer
to the instructors the opportunity to make suggestions to the Head of the
Department in regard to the section-room work, pointing out the success or
failure of certain features of the previous lesson.

The conferences are comparatively recent in the scheme of instruction at the
Academy, but they are of great value to the officers. The result is that the
instructor enters the section room with a feeling of confidence and a
knowledge that his methods are approved in advance by his immediate
chief. Moreover, the Professor is able to go from one section room to
another and find that the teaching of the lesson is progressing uniformly. I
have always considered the conference feature the greatest aid in my work
as an instructor, for besides the profit derived from the Professor’s talk,
there is always a constant interchange of ideas, of impressions, or perhaps a
heated argument between the officers, all of which stimulate the mind and
the imagination, and sharpen the wits. Furthermore, these meetings tend to
produce harmony by drawing the officers together in a common cause. The
introduction of conferences has markedly changed the former attitude of the
instructor toward his work, so that instead of merely hearing the lesson and
marking the cadet, as prevailed too frequently in years gone by, the officer
is inspired to impart a maximum of knowledge and help to his student. I
feel sure that the average of the teaching is rising year by year, due in large
measure to the intelligent conduct of conferences by the various professors
with their officer assistants.

In addition to their work in the preparation and teaching of the daily
lessons, instructors are required to keep the record of the cadets’ marks. For
this purpose, pasteboard cards properly ruled for the days of the week,
averages, and proportional parts are provided, one for each cadet. After the
conclusion of the day’s recitation the mark is entered by the instructor on
the cadet’s card, and at the end of the week, all of the marks are transferred
to a weekly report that each instructor submits for the cadets under his
charge. These reports, or “tenth sheets” as the cadets call them, are publicly
posted in glass frames in the sally-port, where they remain for one week,
during which time the cadets are at liberty to inspect them. In this manner, a
cadet can always tell exactly what progress he is making, whether deficient
or proficient. There is never any attempt at secrecy, but, on the contrary,
every facility is afforded the cadet to ascertain his standing. The pasteboard
cards form the permanent record and are carefully filed in the department.

The weekly reports are usually posted every Saturday while the battalions
are at inspection. Immediately upon breaking ranks, what a scramble ensues
to get a peep at the result of the week’s work! Struggling cadets elbow and
crowd one another to get close to the frames, each heart beating in
anticipation of the figures that mean for some success and for others failure.
The difference of perhaps one tenth in the total will sometimes fill the lad
with dejection for the rest of the afternoon.

No one is deprived of the privilege of consulting his marks. Even those
cadets serving punishment, such as confinement to rooms, can obtain
permission to inspect the reports. More often, however, they send some
plebe to copy the marks for them. The publicity of the marking has an
excellent effect upon the cadet, for he knows what each man in his section
accomplished during the week and sees that no partiality is shown nor
injustice done by the instructor.

The scale of marking that is used at West Point was introduced when Major
Sylvanus Thayer was Superintendent in 1837. Upon this scale a perfect
recitation receives a mark of 3.0; good is represented by 2.5; indifferent by
2.0; bad, 1.5; imperfect, 1.0; and complete failure 0.0. The instructor may
mark as close as a tenth giving a 2.8 or a 2.1 or a 1.4 as the recitation
merits.

Since the marks determine a cadet’s graduation standing and affect his
whole career as an officer, they naturally are given by him no little
consideration. Sometimes I think that the cadets give entirely too much
thought to attaining a good grade rather than to the thorough mastering of
the subject; that is, they have a tendency to develop the memory at the
expense of the thinking functions. As I have explained before West Point
methods are strictly opposed to such a system, and the departments
discourage verbatim recitations. The marking offers many difficulties at an
institution such as West Point because a difference of a few hundredths
between two cadets’ standing will alter their choice of a branch or Corps
and affect their relative promotion by years. At colleges and universities this
condition does not exist, for a man’s standing has little connection with his
future career.

The cadet is not allowed to select his own course, or follow his own
inclinations in regard to the curriculum. The mental diet is prescribed and
no deviation therefrom is permitted. The three broad fundamentals
governing the Academic course are: first, that every cadet shall take every
subject; second, that before advancement every cadet shall be proficient in
every subject; and third, that every cadet must recite every day.

As regards the above principles there is, of course a little qualification in
each, sufficient to admit of some flexibility in application. While no cadet is
permitted to elect whether or no he will take a subject, but is required to
take all of them, still, some of the more advanced cadets go further in the
subjects. In nearly every department the higher men have advanced or
special courses.

As for the second principle, a cadet who is deficient in any one subject is
usually dismissed. Occasionally, however, where a man stands especially
well in all of his studies but fails in one, he may be conditioned by the
Academic Board, or in some cases turned back to join the next class.
Among the cadets, he becomes known as a “turnback,” a name that usually
sticks to him, but conveys no reproach or stigma.

Again, the cadet must recite every day. Owing to the small section of ten or
twelve cadets the instructor is ordinarily able to hear every man, so that the
studies must be prepared. There is no such thing at West Point as a “cut.”

Sometimes, due to the lack of time, the instructor may not hear a few of the
cadets, but this is rare. In such a case the cadet does not get a mark but is
given what is colloquially known as “stay-back,” that is, a blank. The
certainty that he must recite every day and that no failure can be hidden
obliges each cadet to prepare his lesson with great thoroughness. The effect
of this system on moral character is immediate. It inculcates attention to
duty, habits of study and thought, and pride in achievement.

At West Point good intellectual performance is a duty just as much as
guard, parade, or inspection, so that an unsatisfactory recitation due to the
cadet’s negligence not only begets a bad mark, but not infrequently a
punishment. Moreover, since the cadets realize that their final standing at
graduation permits them to choose their branch of the service, they are keen
to do their very best to beat the other fellows. This spirit of competition is
fostered by transfers of cadets from one section to another either up or
down, according to their weekly marks.

Cadets receive individual instruction in every subject. No man can therefore
hide his lack of preparation because he is always called upon to develop
some phase of the lesson. At the beginning of the term, the Fourth Classmen
or plebes are arranged alphabetically into sections in which they remain for
about six weeks. Then there is a general transfer or rearrangement of
sections according to the marks made during this period. The top man in
each section is the section marcher. Thereafter cadets rise and fall in the
sections, either weekly or monthly as the Professor wishes. The transfers
from one section to another are a great stimulant to the cadet. He gets the
reward for his labor. Sometimes, however, in spite of determined efforts,
some cadets lose sections, due perhaps to a lack of preparation prior to
entrance; others go down through laziness or negligence.

The cadets that land in the last section are known as “The Goats” (in olden
days, “The Immortals”), usually a carefree lot who never worry until the
examinations roll around. They are a great contrast to the first section men
who “bone tenths” with Prussian thrift. But whether “Goats” or first section
men each one receives individual instruction.

Nor are the cadets who are low in their studies deprived of extra instruction.
When Major-General Thomas H. Barry was Superintendent, he introduced

a system permitting cadets to receive, during their recreation hours, extra
instruction upon any back lesson. The cadets can therefore overcome the
obstacles that prevent them from going forward in any particular study. Due
to this system, many a cadet has been saved who otherwise would have
been “found,” simply because he was slow and had not had time to digest
his lesson.

It is in the lower sections chiefly that humorous incidents occur to lighten
the tension of the atmosphere. As an instructor in French, I had many a
chuckle over the struggles of some of the Goats to master the tongue of la
douce France. On one occasion a cadet was attempting to translate a
passage in the reader. His efforts were futile. Few of the words meant
anything to him. All at once he came to the proper name “Léopold, Duc
d’Autriche.” With a triumphant gleam at me who had been humiliating him
with embarrassing questions, he proudly translated the phrase: “The
leopard, the duck, and the ostrich.”

On another occasion there was in the section a foreign cadet from
Venezuela whose acquaintance with English was chiefly limited to swear
words. While translating a passage in French in the presence of the
Professor, he came across the sentence: Mon Dieu, j’ai laissé tomber le
vase. Immediately he began:

“My God——”

“Oh no, Mr. Honduras,” gently interposed the Professor.

“Oh Hell,” he began once more.

“Dear no, Mr. Honduras, not so strong!” exclaimed the thoroughly shocked
Professor. But Honduras understanding (maliciously I thought) that a
stronger translation was wanted, ventured once more:

“——! ——! ——!”

Had Honduras been a little American boy, I am sure that the Professor
would have made him wash out his mouth with soap.

The success of the West Point system is largely due to several unique
reasons. In the first place the authorities control the time of the cadets so
completely that it can be utilized to the greatest advantage. Again, West
Point’s remoteness from any large city and the strict regulations that govern
the privileges of the cadet remove the many temptations that consume the
college man’s time. To the same extent, the mind of the cadet is not
diverted. Every effort is made to get the maximum mental results from the
cadet’s labor. He has regular hours of study, plenty of exercise, a judicious
amount of recreation, and good wholesome food. In addition, the cadet is in
a studious atmosphere. No opportunity is lost to impress upon him correct
habits of study.

I dare say that at no other institution of learning is there such serious
preparation of the lessons. The cadet’s academic day contains but half an
hour of leisure from 6:00 A.M. to 10:00 A.M. except during the extreme cold
weather when drills are suspended the cadets have two hours in the
afternoon. All during the day therefore when not at recitations, riding, or
gymnasium, the cadets are studying, and the long study period is from 7:00
to 9:30 P.M. Although prohibited by Regulations, many men study after taps,
especially those low in the class. To conceal the light they hang a leg of
their trousers over the electric light, lowering the cord until it almost
touches the table. Just a little circle of light shines upon the book, and not
enough to be detected from without.

West Point is not indifferent to the performance of its students. It cannot
afford to be less exacting, but it has a powerful leverage over other
institutions for it dangles before the cadet’s view the prize of a commission
in the Regular Army, a career in an honorable profession.

The course of instruction at the Military Academy develops in the cadet
certain traits of character that are invaluable to him in a profession where,
as an officer, he is constantly being called upon to meet all sorts of
contingencies, to exercise his judgment, and to make decisions. His studies
and duties broaden his mind, make him self-reliant, and teach him self-
control. It is astounding to see the results obtained by the system. As a proof
of the intellectual product of the Academy, I shall quote the following table,
giving the occupations of the graduates who have gone into civil life where

they have measured their strength with the graduates of other institutions of
learning:

President of the United States 1
President of the Confederate States 1
Presidential candidates 3
Vice-Presidential candidates 2
Members of the Cabinet 4
Ambassador 1
Ministers from the United States to foreign courts 14
Chargés d’affaires to foreign courts 2
United States consuls-general and consuls 12
Members of the U. S. Senate and House of Representatives 24
United States civil officers of various kinds 171
Presidential electors 8
Governors of States and Territories 16
Bishop 1
Lieutenant-governors of States 2
Judges 14
Members of State Legislatures 77
Presiding officers of State Senates and Houses of Representatives 8
Members of conventions to form state constitutions 13
State officers of various grades 81
Adjutants, inspectors, and quartermasters-general of States and
Territories 29
Officers of State militia 158
Mayors of cities 17
City officers 57
Presidents of universities and colleges 46
Principals of schools and academies 32
Regents and chancellors of educational institutions 14

Professors and teachers 136
Superintendent of Coast Survey 1
Surveyors-general of States and Territories 11
Chief engineers of States 14
Presidents of railroads and other corporations 87
Chief engineers of railroads and other public works 63
Superintendents of railroads and other public works 62
Treasurers of railroads and other corporations 24
Civil engineers 228
Electrical engineers 5
Attorneys and counsellors at Law 200
Superior general of clerical order 1
Clergymen 20
Physicians 14
Merchants 122
Manufacturers 77
Artists 3
Architects 7
Farmers and planters 230
Bankers 18
Bank presidents 8
Bank officers 23
Editors 30
Authors 179
Total 2371

The above list should be convincing that if methods of training which are
primarily intended to develop officers can produce such signal and
distinguished successes in every walk of civil life, no fault can be found
with their soundness.

The Academic year is divided into two terms that end in the fall and the
spring. A month prior to the conclusion of each term, each Department
conducts a general review of the subjects studied that semester. Cadets who
make a proficient average upon this review, which is generally written, are
exempt from the examinations. These reviews are very thorough and
searching. The questions are framed to test the cadet’s real knowledge of
the subject. In order to avoid all personal element entering into the marks,
the papers are graded by all of the instructors, each marking one question.
In this manner the marks are uniform and fair as possible, and no one
instructor has any great influence in assigning to a man his class standing.

Following the reviews come the examinations for those who failed upon the
review. These tests are also quite rigid, and in order to be declared
proficient a man must make two thirds of the mark, .66 per cent. The
examination papers are likewise marked by all of the instructors and by the
Professor. In the event that a cadet fails he is reported to the Academic
Board for their action. In general, if deficient in any one subject, the cadet is
dismissed.

I feel how weak are any words that I might use to attempt to describe the
despair into which a discharged cadet is plunged. For days he lives in an
excruciating suspense awaiting the result of the examinations. The thought
of wasted opportunity, the regret for lack of early preparation perhaps, and
worse than all, the sense of failure torment him. It is bitter to renounce the
camaraderie and friendship of his fellows and to see himself involuntarily
separated from surroundings that he has come to love. At last the dread
news comes. The Adjutant rises from his seat in the Mess Hall and calls the
Battalion to attention. Immediately a deathlike stillness pervades the cadet
body. The gravity and dignity of the Adjutant’s demeanor unconsciously
inform the Corps that distressing news is about to be communicated. Slowly
and distinctly the names are read out, one by one, and as they fall upon the
straining ears of the cadets, they sound like so many death sentences for the
unfortunate lads who are “found.” A gloom of sorrow settles over the Corps
and the companies file out of the hall in sympathetic silence. But the reality
must be faced. Suitcases and trunks are packed, accounts are quickly
settled, affectionate and emotional good-byes are said, and sadly the
discharged cadets drop out of the ranks of the Corps. The long gray line

closes up and once again marches forward to do battle with the Academic
obstacles that block the road to graduation.

CHAPTER VIII
GROWING MUSCLES

W HENEVER the cadets leave the seclusion of West Point and
appear in public in uniform, their erect carriage, their smart tight-
fitting dress coats that show off their broad muscular shoulders
and slender waists never fail to excite favorable comment and praise. It
most generally finds expression from a group of giggling maidens who
evince a great curiosity about the cadets’ slender waists, either openly
remarking that they are artificial or more specifically assuring themselves,
when advantage can be taken of a cadet, by poking the gray bound torso
around the middle line, timidly asking him if he wears corsets, a remark that
usually serves as an introduction to a harmless flirtation.

The splendid set-up of the cadets is not, however, due to stays, whalebones
in the dress coats, Dr. Quack’s abdominal bandages, or to any other
mechanical appliances. It is the result of a very highly intelligent system of
physical training, to which the supple young body of the cadet is submitted
for four years. Naturally, little by little his muscles, through exercise, attain
their proper development, and since no one set of muscles is neglected, the
body gradually assumes a well-rounded, finished appearance. The material
for instruction is good and healthy, because all of the cadets have been
submitted to a rigid physical examination before entrance. They are not,
however, all perfect specimens, for many possess minor defects and
blemishes, unimportant as far as affecting their military value to the
Government, but which can be eradicated by proper physical training.

The instructor of physical training is greatly aided in his actual work, by the
kind of life the cadet leads, so that he has not to struggle with a crowd of
men who after having received physical training daily, indulge themselves
to their heart’s content. He has, on the contrary, a set of young men who
live under the strictest and simplest conditions in a healthy environment,

and whose diet is most wholesome. No late suppers, no beer, no rich food
are at work to keep up the rotundity of the stomach, the coram nobis of the
Romans, or to produce a lot of flabby fat, but good cereals, nourishing
meats and vegetables, even the despised “slum,” are indirect factors in
keeping healthy the cadet’s body.

West Point believes that for a man to do the best mental work, his body
must be in the best condition. The Academy was the first educational
institution in the country to recognize that hand in hand with the student’s
mental training must go the proper development of his physical powers. As
long ago as 1817, Captain Partridge, the Superintendent of the Military
Academy, incorporated in the curriculum bodily exercises. Since that time
the importance of physical training in the cadet’s course has been given
recognition, but frankly there was no real system of physical training until
1846. A gymnasium was then prepared and instruction given by First Lieut.
H. C. Wayne, First Artillery. This was a beginning, but the authorities were
hampered by lack of equipment, and also by no very great knowledge of
how to proceed. The science of physical training was in its infancy, it must
be remembered, but crude as was the instruction it was the genesis of the
splendid course that now exists.

For a long period after the Civil War, 1865-1882, cadets attended the
gymnasium as they saw fit, a system that was no system. The original
course from which the present course has developed was inaugurated in
February, 1885.

The daily routine at the Academy is extremely exacting and hard, and I
doubt very much if a large number of men could stand the strain and daily
grind of the Academic year, if they were not physically prepared to meet its
requirements. Since all Academic duties are suspended during part of June,
July, and August, in order to devote these months to practical military
instruction, the new cadets are directed to report in June. Two months are
then at the disposal of the authorities to strengthen the new arrivals’ bodies,
both by prescribed physical exercises and by the exercise incident to the
drills and maneuvers, before the studies begin in September.

The Exterior of the Gymnasium

During the first three weeks of the new cadet’s training, setting-up exercises
begin his day’s work. After his breakfast has had time to digest, he and his
fellows are marched over to the main room of the gymnasium for forty-five
minutes’ physical drill. Although the setting-up exercises may be given
outdoors, and have always been heretofore, the gymnasium is now used to
eliminate the distraction of the cadet’s attention by passersby whose
amusement at the efforts of the stiff and awkward “beasts” reacted upon the
new cadets.

The recruit instruction begins with the most simple exercises. The cadet is
taught first the position of attention; that his heels must be together, his feet
turned out just so much, his knees devoid of stiffness, in a word, what he
shall do with his hips, arms, and hands, keeping his head erect, his chin
drawn in, and his eyes straight to the front. Simple as is the position of

attention, many men take a long time to learn it. Some never can comply
with all the requirements, for how can the bow-legged man and the knock-
kneed chap keep their legs “straight without stiffness”?

Then follow breathing exercises to increase the wind capacity, to permit
longer and more extended drills, and to lead up to the simple movements
designed to develop the muscles upon which the position of attention is
dependent.

The cadets line up on the gymnasium floor. The instructor commands:
“Count off!”

“One—two—three—four!” “One—two—three—four!” in weak voices and
strong voices, diminuendo and crescendo, is repeated all down the line,
each man snapping his head to the front as he calls his number. The
inequality of tone of voice is gradually eliminated so that after a few drills
the count off is uniform in pitch.

“Take distance. March!” commands the drill master followed by “Company,
halt!” when the men have become sufficiently separated to perform the
exercises without interfering with one another.

Various exercises are then taught, the simple ones first, followed by the
more complex movements to develop a coördination of all muscles and a
feeling of control over one’s body. The set of exercises used at the Academy
are simple in the extreme and executed by even simpler commands. It is
astonishing how in a few minutes a perfectly green squad can be taught to
execute movements not only in unison, but even with precision and
smartness. The great value of the commands lies in the fact that no
elaborate explanations are necessary. All the recruit has to do is to watch the
instructor. Let me illustrate by an example. The instructor commands:

“1. Arms forward. 2. Raise.”

The cadet raises his arm in front of him to height of shoulders, holding them
in this position while the instructor says:

“Swing arms down at 1 and up at 2. Ready! exercise! One! Two! ... One!
Halt!”

All movements cease with arms in raised position.

“Arms down.” All drop their arms smartly.

Of course, to the simple movements are added various combinations, and
all exercises are executed both at a halt and while marching. The walking
with measured step gives poise and grace of carriage. The recruits are also
practiced in the run and double time, the latter a military step to gain ground
rapidly, but with a minimum inroad upon the wind and endurance of the
soldier. Setting-up exercises are the most valuable preliminary training for
any body of men entering the military service. For the first week the body is
sore and aches to the point of great fatigue, but after the preliminary
soreness disappears, a feeling of control supplants it, and the general health
of the body is better. No brown pills are necessary; no headaches from
biliousness exist. A good forty-five minute setting-up drill every morning,
plenty of wholesome food, and eight hours’ sleep contribute to the cadet’s
good health. The Mess Hall, not to be outdone by other departments, lends
its aid by serving judicious plates of prunes. These preliminary setting-up
drills, given during the first few weeks, are discontinued for a short period
in camp when the cadets are busy learning other drills.

Swimming now replaces the setting-up exercises until the battalions return
to barracks in September. The new cadets must be able to swim at least ten
minutes without changing their stroke, which standard each cadet must
measure before he is excused from attendance at the swimming drills. These
drills are never a bore, however, but anticipated with great pleasure by
nearly all of the men. Nothing is so refreshing on a hot summer’s day, after
a tedious drill upon the dusty Plain, than the march over to the “Gym” for a
swim in the deliciously cool clean water of the tank. Instruction is also
given in resuscitating men who are apparently drowned.

When September comes and the studies are commenced, the Fourth Class
resumes its setting-up exercises, to which are added gymnastic work.

In the fall each cadet is given a thorough examination at which all of his
measurements are accurately taken, and various strength tests are made.
This information is entered on a card and filed for future reference, because
later on the cadets are again measured and tested in order that the
improvement may be noted.

Measurements are made of the height, chest, waist, arms, legs; and strength
tests are made of the arms, hands, back, and legs. These methods quickly
reveal wherein the cadet is deficient, and allow the instructor, like a doctor,
to prescribe for each individual the necessary exercises. For example, those
whose chests are under-developed are assigned to the chest weights until
the deficiency is made up, and where the smaller muscles of the arms and
shoulders need attention practice is given with the Indian clubs and
medicine balls.

Gymnastic Exercises

To develop in all of them power, vigor, and endurance, the groups of large
muscles of the back, chest, abdomen, and legs are improved by setting-up
exercises, dumb-bells, and wands, jumping, climbing, and lastly by
apparatus work. This class of exercises is reserved until the muscles have
been more or less controlled and respond to the will, for the execution
depends not so much upon muscular effort as it does upon agility. It would
never do to start in green men on the apparatus work, because there would
soon result broken legs and arms. This work is hard enough for those
lacking “muscle sense,” even after many months of preliminary exercises.

Included in the schedule for the first year’s work is instruction in the saber
and the foils, but as the amount of time that can be devoted to these
branches of instruction is limited, only the most elementary features of the
arts can be taught. An opportunity, however, is afforded cadets to perfect
themselves in the use of both the saber and the foil after regular hours.
During the winter months, when the vigorous weather requires a suspension
of outdoor drilling, the fencing master gives individual lessons to those who
desire to take them. The volunteers are formed into a squad known as the
Fencing Squad, from which are organized, for each weapon, class teams.
The interests at West Point are so many and varied that it is impossible for
each cadet to be an accomplished fencer, boxer, wrestler, gymnast, or
swimmer, but each one is given instruction in the fundamentals. The cadets
usually select the art that appeals to them most and perfect themselves
along the chosen line. The saber is popular, and many cadets acquire great
dexterity in its manipulation. It is distinctly a soldierly exercise, so that it
exercises a fascination for the men, especially for those who intend to
choose the cavalry.

Instruction in the use of the foils is given to the entire class assembled by
sections, and consists of preliminary instruction in the single rank without
weapon, in the single rank with foils, and in the double rank with foils. As
with the saber, the men whose sport by predilection is fencing with foils
take individual lessons from the fencing master every afternoon from
November until March. The interest in fencing at one time was exceedingly
great, and the sport was regarded as one of the major activities of cadet life.
This interest was due to the participation of cadet teams in the
Intercollegiate Fencing Meet, but five years ago the Academy authorities

prohibited cadet teams from attending these competitions. This action killed
the interest in fencing for several years, but at present the former popularity
of this excellent sport is returning, and a visitor may now see the thirteen
double mats, accommodating fifty-two men, constantly filled.

When President Roosevelt, in 1905, ordered that all cadets should attend
gymnasium daily, assistants were detailed to assist the officer in charge of
physical training. For the fencing, the Academy secured the services of a
maître d’armes under whose careful and scientific training, the fencing
teams of the Academy continued their brilliant achievements begun in 1902.
Beginning with that year until 1910, West Point sent to the annual
intercollegiate championship meets, teams that contested with Harvard,
Yale, Cornell, Pennsylvania, Columbia, and the Navy. Out of the nine
meets, West Point won six, and obtained second place in the other three,
yielding their supremacy to their great rivals, the Navy. This remarkable
record was accomplished by the untiring efforts of the team and of their
much-liked instructor, M. Vauthier, whose skill excited their admiration and
inspired in them a splendid spirit of emulation.

More attention is now paid to the bayonet fencing due to the extended use
of that weapon in the present European War, but as with the other arts, the
limited time permits the teaching of only the fundamentals. The cadet learns
enough in each branch to build upon afterwards and make himself a
competent instructor.

Not less popular than the fencing are the boxing and wrestling exercises.
The first year men are assembled in classes and given instruction in boxing
in the guard, footwork, parries, simple direct leads and counters. Similarly
in wrestling, the simple holds, resultant falls, and the breaks for the simple
holds are all taught.

It is not, however, to the regular class work that one must go to judge of the
grip that these manly sports have upon the cadets. In the afternoon, after
recitations, embryo Jeffries and Fitzsimmonses gather in the boxing room to
receive the holy instruction from the master, Mr. Jenkins, or “Tom,” as he is
affectionately called among themselves. There he teaches the aspirant
pugilist how to land a blow and how to avoid one, and occasionally to make
the lesson more realistic he treats his young charge to the experience of

receiving one. Some experiences in a man’s life grow dim, but never this
one.

When the preliminary bouts are being fought, large numbers flock to the
boxing room to cheer for the weaker fellow even though he be of another
class than one’s own. Boxing develops fine qualities among the men. It
teaches them to give and take, to receive punishment without flinching, and
to respect the skill of a good opponent. Besides it gives a man confidence in
his powers, making him think quickly and move quickly, all excellent
qualities for an officer of the army.

Boxing, however, shares the popular appeal with wrestling. This manly
sport that we have inherited from our ancestors of the stone age fascinates
men chiefly by virtue of its brute strength and to a lesser degree by its skill.
It is a game for men of all sizes, provided they possess the necessary
qualities of courage and strength.

The boxing room on winter afternoons presents a warm and pleasing
contrast to the cold and snow outside. The mats are covered with agile
forms in black jersey tights wriggling and squirming, the perspiration
rolling off the wrestlers as they endeavor to grind the shoulders of their
opponents to the mat. All men receive instruction in wrestling in class, but
like the other sports, its devotees must repair for extra instruction to Mr.
Jenkins during recreation hours. It is in this time that men practice for their
class teams, one for each of the following weights: unlimited, heavy, light
heavy, middle, welter, light, and feather. The four class teams meet each
other successively to wrestle for the class championship. There is besides a
contest for the individual championship, the final bouts which take place
publicly at the Annual Indoor Meet.

Prior to the resumption of the afternoon military drills in March, the cadets
hold their annual gymnastic event called the Indoor Meet. The contests,
which are held with great ceremony in the Gymnasium, include races, pole
climbing, work on horizontal bars and parallel bars, long and short horse,
rings both stationary and flying, and the tug of war between the classes.

Each class enters so many men for each event, and for the awards of first,
second, or third, the contestant receives a designated number of points. The

class receiving the greatest total wins the meet. This athletic event is a very
fitting way to end the winter course, for it offers an opportunity to those
men who have labored faithfully during the winter afternoons to reap the
reward of their efforts. It also is an incentive for better work because of the
spirit of competition. The Athletic Association upon this occasion, presents
sabers, both to the captain of the football team and to that member of the
First Class who during his cadet career has done the most for athletics. It is
a very proud night for these young men as they walk forward to receive the
coveted saber, the first part of their officer’s equipment.

There is great rivalry among the classes during the events. The four corners
of the room are filled with the members of each class, who yell like demons
to encourage their representatives. Almost every minute the air is filled with
shrieks and yells of excited cadets whose “Zis-boom-ahs!” “Rah! Rah!
Rahs!” “1917! 1918!!...” are hurled at one another to the delight and
amusement of the spectators, young and old, hanging over the iron railing
of the gallery.

The courses in gymnastics, wrestling, and boxing, increase in difficulty
according to the class, so that the Third and Second Classmen pursue a
more advanced course than the plebes. When, however, the cadets become
First Classmen, emphasis is laid upon the theories of physical training with
the object of preparing these “near officers” for their duties as instructors in
the service. The needs of the Army are carefully considered in the training
of the last year in order to send out from West Point men who can at once
take hold of a group of recruits and whip them into good physical shape,
according to the most intelligent methods.

Unfortunately, the setting-up exercises in the Army are only spasmodically
taught. There is very little uniformity in the method, despite the excellent
manual with which the troops are provided.

West Point is at present making an effort to influence the Service to a better
appreciation of the results to be derived from regular drill in setting-up
exercises. To this end, the First Classmen are taught to act as instructors,
and are grounded not only in actual practice but in theory. Every year extra
classes are held to develop good instructors for the coming summer camps,

and for future service in the Army. It is to be hoped that commanding
officers will make good use of these enthusiastic young teachers.

Although the control of athletics at the Academy is not under the
gymnasium authorities, still it is fitting to speak of the sports in this chapter.
The Academy has its football, baseball, basketball, and hockey teams, and
in addition the cadets play golf, polo, and tennis. There is little in the
training or conduct of these teams that differs from other educational
institutions, except the question of time allowed for preparation. It has
always been the rule at West Point that no inroads shall be permitted upon
the Academic course to aid the development of any athletic team.
Consequently, what practice the teams get must be during recreation hours.
The only concessions made are supper a half-hour later for the football
men, and exemptions twice a week from parade for the baseball men.
Athletics receive, however, the greatest support and encouragement from
the authorities, whose aim is, however, not to develop a few good men or an
excellent team in any one sport, but to seek a good average.

Every cadet is urged to join in some form of athletics instead of remaining
in his dress coat along the side lines as an interested spectator. The efforts
made in this direction have received a warm response from the cadet body,
so that during recreation hours the Plain presents a busy scene of cadet
activities. The green parade ground is dotted with the golfers in gray shirts
and white trousers; the tennis courts are filled with animated figures; groups
of happy cadets ride by on horseback for a gallop in the woods, while others
prefer the more sedate hiking in the surrounding hills. It is a great
temptation after the recitations and drills to be lazy, hang around one’s
room, or “bone fiction” which means reading novels, but in recent years the
men have become more and more sensible of the many advantages offered
them during their cadet days, and a new spirit of carpe diem has come over
the Corps.

Photo by White

The Athletic Field

But to return to my subject of physical training proper. No opportunity is
lost to impress upon each man the practical use to which he will put his
knowledge of physical training when he becomes an officer. He is urged to
prepare himself to the best of his ability to become a proficient instructor
for the enlisted men whom he will later command. In this connection, the
cadets learn in their course of Military Hygiene that the object of all
physical training is to develop the human body in its entirety in order that
there shall result a perfect equilibrium between all its functions. Many
recruits join the Army without the slightest coördination of their body.
Although well formed they are awkward, clumsy, stoop shouldered, without
ability to make their different members act in unison with their minds. If an
officer does not know what to do with these men he will never succeed in
getting good work out of them. His first duty therefore is to develop the
recruit’s body, especially the functions of control, the coördination between
eye and hand, because the success of line troops is largely dependent upon
physical aptitude. The modern war makes greater demands than ever upon
the soldier’s physique. I heard an observer, recently returned from the
European War, state that the infantryman is now so loaded down with

packs, steel helmets, hand grenades, and rifle that he finds it difficult to
advance faster than a walk. The strain upon the physique of the infantryman
carrying his pack is greater than upon soldiers of other arms, and since
graduates in time of war will be concerned largely with the training of
infantry, it is of paramount importance that cadets should understand the
building up and care of the bodies of their men. A soldier must possess
more than the average muscular strength, endurance, and organic vigor.

I see before me daily the fine results of the system of physical training at
the Academy. Ungainly plebes gradually assume a well-rounded
appearance, an erect carriage with head up and an elastic walk. I sometimes
have to rub my eyes when I behold a cadet whom I once remembered as an
unformed plebe, as loose jointed as a big Newfoundland puppy, but who
now appears before my astonished vision as a smart soldierly First
Classman. When the cadets have completed their four years course they
have a decided physical stamp, showing that each one has been trained by
the same system.

At the end of the year in June, when the Post is thronged with visitors,
relatives, and friends of cadets who are present for the graduation exercises,
an outdoor demonstration of the setting-up exercises is given on the Plain.
The precision and uniformity with which the movements are executed
arouse great interest as eight hundred supple young bodies respond as one
to the sonorous commands of the instructor perched on a solid wooden
table.

Setting up Drill on the Plain

This drill is usually followed by the Outdoor Meet, the annual athletic event
corresponding to the Indoor Meet. Each class has its best representatives
entered to win a victory in the dashes, hurdle races, long distance races,
hammer throwing, jumping, and pole vaulting. Back of the roped lines
surge the cadets of the various classes, cheering themselves hoarse for their
own representatives. Mothers, sisters, sweethearts, friends, friends’ friends,
in the fluffiest and gayest summer dresses devouringly trail their “Kaydet,”
and give excited and exaggerated opinions about things of which they are
totally ignorant,—but bless their hearts! their presence is an inspiration to
the young gods at their Olympian games.

On the June morning of the Outdoor Meet, West Point usually offers one of
her incomparably beautiful days as a fitting setting for the display of her
cadets’ physical prowess. And when the Meet ends, the cadets all feel that
one more year’s progress been made in their physical development. The
First Classmen who on the morrow will go forth into the Army, leaving the
protecting walls of West Point, reflect with emotion and gratitude upon all

that West Point’s training has done to strengthen their bodies to endure
whatever hardships that might arise in their new lives as officers.

CHAPTER IX
LESSONS FROM MARS

I N the Area of the South Barracks, directly opposite the sally-port, is a
little brick building with a clock tower. It is small and insignificant
looking to the ordinary observer, but not so to the cadet. Here dwell the
“Tacs,” the officers of the Tactical Department, who are charged with the
discipline and purely military instruction of the Corps. More especially, it is
the Headquarters of the Commandant, his assistants, the cadet Officer of the
Day, the officers of the guard, and the orderlies. The mail, the precious
mail, is assorted twice daily within its old walls, and its creaky wooden
floor is worn thin by the lively tread of hurrying cadets feverishly crowding
around the bulletin boards.

In the second-floor room of the Tower is the Officer in Charge, the monarch
of all he surveys. True, his reign is but twenty-four hours, but he returns to
the throne about once a week. During his tour he is the Corps monitor.
From the quaint little porch off his room, the “poop deck,” as the cadets
think of it, he coldly and inscrutably regards all formations in the Area.
When the punishment squad is walking tours, the door of the “poop deck”
opens unobtrusively, and for a moment he stands casting a glance over the
oscillating gray figures, walking their narrow paths back and forth. As
quietly as he comes forth he fades from view. The “Area Birds” breathe
more freely as he disappears, but soon again he reappears like an accusing
conscience. His presence hovers over the daily life of the cadets. To them
he is the “O. C.” and source of all information. His decisions have the
sacredness and authority of the Delphian oracle. If the weather is
threatening, it is he who decides whether raincoats shall be worn to meals.
If visitors arrive during study hours, his permission must be obtained to
speak with them for half an hour. If knotty problems of interior
administration bother the Officer of the Day, his advice is immediately
sought. He is amazingly omniscient.

Each day brings a new “O. C.” until the roster of the Tactical officers has
been exhausted, whereupon the cycle begins anew. There are various
species of “O. C.’s,” and it is astonishing how the personality of each one
will influence the day of the cadet. There is the cheerful “O. C.” with a kind
manner and a cordial tone in his voice. Between him and his young charges
there seems to be a bond of mutual confidence and affection. They feel that
his reserve is assumed “By order,” and that if they only knew him, he would
be their friend. They feel his human side, his understanding of their
difficulties, and they have no resentment when he reports them because they
know that in doing so, he feels a sympathetic pang. When he enters the
Mess Hall, his presence is welcomed, as much as cadets can welcome the
presence of any officer. Somehow the laughter seems gayer and the day
altogether brighter during his tour. There is no unconscious load to carry in
addition to the actual burdens of the day. At parade, a little more effort is
made to execute smartly the manual when he gives the commands.

Then there is the gloomy “O. C.,” the stand-off kind that looks daggers
upon the approach of any cadet. He appears to circle over the Corps like
some hungry bird ready to pounce any moment upon his prey. When he has
occasion to question a cadet, a barrier of ice immediately rises between
them and their viewpoints drift miles and miles apart. He seems to them
never to have been a young man himself, so little of the power of
understanding does he possess. They look him up in the Army Register and
discover that he too was a cadet not so many years ago, but to believe it
strains their credulity to the breaking point. When things go wrong, instead
of pointing out the error in a natural manner, there are anger and resentment
in the voice. All of his “skins” seem flavored with malice. Apparently, he
goes out of his way to be disagreeable, as if to be so was to be military. His
tour is regarded with dread especially by the First Classmen detailed that
day for guard.

But the influence of either type of Officer in Charge is transient. It passeth
from day to day. If the Gloomy One is on duty, there is the consolation that
the Cheerful One will succeed him like sunshine after rain. It is the
Commandant of Cadets, the chief of all the “Tacs,” who exercises the great
permanent influence over the Corps. Ever since the creation of his office in
1825, he has been “the Com” to the embryo officers under him. He

prescribes all of their drills and casts the mold for the discipline of their
bodies and souls. He is the tribunal that grants or withholds their privileges
and that punishes them for their premeditated or thoughtless misdeeds.
Whereas a few years ago he exercised his power for the seclusion of his
office, at a distance from the cadets, today he meets and talks with them
daily, ascertains their viewpoint, giving to his work the new spirit of the
personal touch that has crept into the instruction at West Point. To be
successful in his important work, he must never look bored. He must take
an interest in the cadets rather than in the Regulations. He must be human.
To gain the admiration of his men he must be above all efficient, fairly good
to look upon, military in appearance, and well dressed, and to gain their
liking and respect he must be smart, strict, and impartial. There are two
faults in an officer that a cadet finds hard to forgive: lack of neatness and
“being wooden.”

In his work, the Commandant is assisted by the “Tacs,” Infantry, Cavalry,
Field, and Coast Artillery officers. Officers of every branch of the Service
are represented because at West Point, the duties of all arms are taught. It is
with these officers more than any others that the cadet comes into the most
direct contact.

For purposes of administration, each company is commanded by a Tactical
officer. He passes upon all permits, requests, requisitions for clothing and
for ordnance. He inspects the rooms of his command to see that they are
clean and in order. He examines the rifles and equipment for dirt and rust.
He supervises one or more of the drills. He is really the presiding genius
over the company, in whose welfare he takes unselfish interest. It is the duty
of him and his brother “Tacs” to uphold the discipline of the Corps, which
means that when a man has to deal with eight hundred young wills,
American nurtured, he must utilize something stronger than mere words to
see that the eight hundred conform to the set standards of the institution.
His chief weapon to emphasize to the cadet the importance of the
Regulations is the report or “skin,” which carries with it a certain number of
demerits, and sometimes punishment tours.

The cadet consequently looks upon the “Tac” as his arch enemy. One
cannot help having a little resentment toward a person who is always

present to check up his misdoings, no matter how just and well deserved the
punishment may be. The feeling is only human and the military atmosphere
rather augments it. It is especially difficult, I think, for Americans to feel
continually the heavy hand of authority, because each one of us is so
individualistic. Unconsciously, the cadet cannot get away from the presence
of the “Tac.” Life in barracks seems to revolve around this individual. From
the early morning inspection, until the evening study period when he again
comes around, knocking sharply on each door and interrupting the train of
thought, his spectre, if not himself, is haunting the surroundings. The cadets
know that he is just across the way in the Guard House, and that they will
meet him at drill in the afternoon. He is the important factor that must be
considered in their daily comings and goings. He is a sort of irritating yoke.

It is not to be wondered at then, that he is the subject of unlimited
discussion, despite regulations to the contrary, and that every peculiarity of
manner, dress, or speech is noticed and criticized. His entire personality is
usually summed up in some nickname that comes like an inspiration and
hits the nail upon the head. Occasionally the name is complimentary, in
unconscious recognition of an innate nobility which marks him out as of
finer clay, but more often it is uncomplimentary and droll.

Nothing pleases a cadet quite so much as to see a “Tac” do something
wooden. They say that he is gross, which has nothing whatsoever to do with
being fat, but simply means that his mind is somewhat dense. Immediately
the blunder spreads like wild-fire from lip to lip, growing as it goes and
repeated with a joy that approaches delirium. There was at one time an
officer on duty whose idiosyncrasies were told and retold. He furnished
many a good story for the delight of the Corps, and his departure threatened
the existence of The Howitzer, the cadets’ annual publication, and of the
Hundredth Night, the annual play in which the officers may be satirized.
His mind seemed to work by rule and regulation. One night when he was
making his inspection of barracks, he came to a room where only one cadet
was studying at the center table. He entered, looked around, and then
inquired:

“Cadet, where is your roommate?”

“In bed, sir!” was the reply.

“Is he asleep?” asked the officer.

“I don’t know, sir,” answered the cadet.

“Well, find out,” ordered the “Tac.”

The man then turned to his roommate who was plainly visible in bed, and
asked:

“Jim, are you asleep?”

“Yes” sounded off a voice from the depths of the comforters.

“He says he’s asleep, sir.”

“Very good, cadet,” replied the “Tac,” and quite satisfied, left the room, just
in time to escape the outburst of laughter that followed this highly
intellectual conversation.

To be always under the observation of so many pairs of keen young critical
eyes is sufficient to make any officer somewhat self-conscious, and to give
a certain kink and twist to his actions. The cadets, like all youth, are
merciless in their judgment, sometimes almost cruel. They are ever on the
alert for any slip that the “Tac” may make and intolerantly condemn him.
But so responsive are the cadets that it would take but a smile, or a word or
so bordering on intimacy, to remove all critical feelings and bring about
“glad confident morning.” I wonder sometimes why that so seldom
happens. I suppose it is because we are all artificial.

Although the Tactical officer is very much occupied with the interior
discipline and economy of his company, the greater portion of his time is
given over to the military instruction of the cadets. The purpose of this
instruction is to familiarize the cadet with the duties and needs of a private
in the ranks by practical experience, to impress upon his character the habit
of obedience, and to train him in the function of command by repeated
exercise.

In order best to accomplish this purpose, the cadets are organized into two
battalions of four companies each. This is the present organization, but as
soon as the Corps has been increased to the full strength recently organized
by Congress, the Commandant intends to make a regiment. Although the
Tactical officers command the companies in the sense that they are the
supervisors of the discipline and administration, the actual commanding of
the companies on the drill ground is entrusted to the cadets. Selected men
perform all of the duties of the officers and non-commissioned officers.
They are chosen for this honor on account of their good conduct and
studious habits, and the soldier-like performance of their duties. They are as
strict and conscientious in upholding the Regulations as are the officers
themselves. As a matter of truth they are more severe because they seldom
take it upon themselves to put any interpretation upon the motive
underlying the act. A thing is right or it is wrong. There is no middle line.
Whenever any cadet is on duty, he insists that all under him obey implicitly
his orders, and should any man be so rash as to disregard his authority, he
instantly enters a report against the offender. It would seem that such an
action would arouse the resentment of his fellow cadets, but this does not
occur, due to the honor system at West Point. Cadets generally recognize
that their attitude toward their work must be different from the student at
the average educational institution because their duties are all in serious
preparation for their future careers.

Of course, there are some men who carry their authority too far when they
find themselves in command of their fellows. Sometimes they lack
judgment and consequently deserve sympathy; sometimes there are a few
men who deliberately try to make an impression upon their superiors at the
expense of the men in the ranks. These men who allow their desire for
probable advancement to lead them astray are quickly sized up by the
Corps, and dubbed “quilloids.” They are usually disliked and made to feel
the displeasure of their comrades. In nearly every class there are some of
these men who do not see clearly, and who persist, throughout their whole
course, in placing false values upon trivialities.

Since the cadets are organized into Infantry battalions, the greatest amount
of time is devoted to the work of this arm. There are many reasons why this
should be so. The Infantry is the largest branch of the Army, and to it is

assigned the greatest percentage of graduates. Infantry drill is the basis of
all drills and is the best for inculcating discipline and cohesion among the
men. Besides, the Great War in Europe has proven that Infantry is still the
Queen of Battle, and that all of the other branches, the Artillery, the
Cavalry, the Engineers, the Aviation Corps are but her minions. It is the
Infantry that decides the fight.

The practical military instruction of the cadets, although carried on
throughout the year, varies in intensity at different periods. In the depth of
winter it is impossible to drill out of doors. The Infantry instruction is then
suspended, except for the daily class and meal formations. When, however,
March 15th rolls around, the Ides of March remember, and the snow leaves
the ground, the Corps begins its annual training. Immediately after the
dismissal of the sections from recitations at four o’clock, the battalions
form in front of barracks for the afternoon drill. Despite the raw March
winds that blow across the Plain, chilling one to the marrow, the battalion
designated for Infantry drill sets about overcoming the inequalities of
marching, the lack of precision in the execution of the manual, raggedness
of the movements that have been produced by the long inactivity of the
winter. It is at this period that the most scrupulous attention must be paid to
the manner of executing the various movements. Every little dereliction is
criticized, every mistake is corrected, and every movement repeated until it
can be faultlessly performed.

First the companies are drilled alone and then later assembled for a short
battalion drill before going back to barracks. Up and down the Plain the
companies march, now in column, now in line. The right guides of each
company seem to be carrying the burden of the drill as with tense faces they
fixedly regard the two points upon which they are directing the march of the
company. Meanwhile they are measuring their step by a silent count of
“one-two-three-four.” The officers and file closers are attentive and alert,
giving a word of caution here and one of reprimand there, as the line
crowds in on the left, or, like an accordion, opens out on the right. The
plebes in the rear rank are striving to the utmost to keep in step and on the
line, and at the same time carry their rifles straight and drag in their chins.
The detail and care with which every command must be executed begins to
produce a feeling of monotony, and stolen glances seek the clock in the

tower. Fifteen more minutes! The hour seems interminable and the wind
more and more disagreeable. Finally the hands of the clock roll around to
five and the musician appears in the sally-port and sounds the recall.

The next afternoon the second battalion attends close order drill and the
first takes its place at extended order. A lighter gayer crowd march forth to
this exercise. Here they will have a little chance for individual leadership,
the command of a platoon perhaps, or of a squad, or they will enjoy the
comparative freedom and independence of the skirmisher. In the early part
of the spring course the mechanism of the drill must be rehearsed upon the
Plain. The parade ground is therefore dotted with prone and kneeling groups
of platoon columns and of squad columns. The blast of the officer’s whistle,
the simultaneous outstretching of the squad and platoon leaders’ arms as a
signal, and the columns magically deploy into one long line of skirmishers.
Once again the blast of the whistle sounds; more signals; bayonets are fixed
and squads begin their rushes forward to the delight of the small boys and
visitors who line the surrounding walks. Then follows the assembly and the
companies do it all over again.

As soon as the mechanism is well learned, the battalion is taken up into the
hills and maneuvered over all sorts of ground. Combat problems involving
advance guard and outposts are worked out under the direction of the
Tactical officer. In these exercises the actual command of the companies is
in the hands of the cadets, but the Tactical officer, assisted by other officers,
directs the drill. The cadets detailed for this drill called Field Training are
assembled in front of the old gymnasium where the officer outlines the
problem and gives the men a talk on the principles that are involved. Each
man is made to understand just what he must do before he starts out and
must know the general principles to be applied in cases that arise. A
situation is assumed where the cadets are a force in the country of the
enemy. They are to form, we will say, the advance guard of their regiment.
The instructor gives to the cadets who are to command all information that
he has of his own forces and of those of the enemy and he points out to the
young commanders what is to be accomplished. The cadet officers are then
called upon to communicate to the men under them the instructions that, in
their opinion, are necessary to accomplish the mission. The officer stands
near to make suggestions and corrections, or to point out errors of

judgment. As soon as all understand what they are to do the command
moves out to work out the problem.

It is in the Field Training of the Infantry that the cadet acquires a real
knowledge of command. He must be able to size up situations and quickly
form a decision. He must then issue orders, clear and definite, to cover the
case. It is in these drills that he learns something of the art of handling
troops and what is the feeling of responsibility. The cadets who actually
exercise command are the First Classmen. They are detailed by roster,
irrespective of whether they are privates or cadet officers, so that every man
has many opportunities to command a company before he graduates. It is
highly important that the cadet should be given practice in appearing before
a body of men and in giving them instructions. Nothing helps so much to
give him confidence in himself. It is of great value to him when he joins his
regiment in the Service. Cadets of the First Class are therefore detailed for
every kind of duty. They are company commanders, acting adjutants,
lieutenants, officers of the day and of the guard. Whenever there is a chance
to place responsibility upon the cadet, advantage is taken of it by the
Commandant.

The Infantry instruction is progressive. The First Classmen are trained in
more advanced work by means of tactical walks. These exercises are similar
to those prescribed for officers in the Service and are in line with their
future work as subalterns. An officer takes four or five men with him to
some neighboring terrain well adapted to a particular problem. All of the
different phases of the problem are considered and the cadets required to
size up each situation and issue their orders as if in actual warfare. They are
provided with maps which they must be able to read with facility. At the
close of the exercise the officer holds a critique.

Nor is target practice, that important branch of Infantry instruction,
neglected. In summer when the cadets are in camp, the complete course of
firing as prescribed for Infantry and Cavalry troops is given the First Class.
It is held down on the flats near the river in the shelter of Cro’s Nest where
a fair range parallels the Hudson. Every clear morning at seven the
detachments march down to the range. At this hour the air is cool and crisp
and so crystalline that every feature of the landscape stands out sharply

defined. West Point is incomparably beautiful at this season and time of the
day. But as the sun mounts higher in the Heavens the coolness is replaced
by a steadily increasing heat. From the arrival at the range until noon,
Washington Valley echoes with the crack! crack! of the Springfields. Little
groups of cadets are stretched out in the blazing sun trying to find the bull’s
eye and hoping to pile up a big enough score to win the coveted medal of
Expert Rifleman or Sharpshooter. Meanwhile another portion of the men is
down behind the butts, taking its turn in shifting the targets. All morning
long they monotonously pull the frames up and down, pasting on the target,
now a white paster, now a black one, or mechanically waving the red flag
back and forth. Intermittently the telephone rings: “Ting-a-ling-a-ling-a-
ling.”

“Re-mark No. 8!” sings out the operator.

Careful search is made on No. 8 for the third time and up goes the red flag,
the sight of which fills the hopeful cadet back at the firing point with a
feeling of disappointment and disgust. And so the morning passes, the men
firing so interested that they are oblivious of its flight, and the men in the
butts thinking less of pasters and red flags than of the cool shower that
waits them in camp, and blessed dinner.

If one wishes, however, to see the finished results of the discipline and
cohesion produced by Infantry training he must attend either a review and
inspection by the Corps, or a parade.

Every Saturday, shortly after the return of the cadets from dinner, there is an
inspection on the Plain, preceded by a review, at which the appearance,
clothing, and equipment of the cadet are minutely examined by his Tactical
officer. I know of no finer sight at West Point than this ceremony, especially
in the summer and early fall when the Plain is green and the cadets wear the
excellent combination of the gray coats and white trousers. As the
companies maneuver on the Plain preparatory to taking their places on the
line, the perfection of their marching, their impeccable appearance, the
white cross-belts, the glittering breastplates, and bell buttons of coat, the
foreign-looking dress hat with its rigid little pompon, the splendid bearing
of the men, betray the beholder into believing that he is watching the
evolutions of some legendary corps d’élite. The scene seems foreign and

yet again very American. The most characteristic feature is the
thoroughness with which every detail of dress, equipment, and marching
has been worked out. When the Corps turns the bend near Sedgwick
monument and comes swinging down past the reviewing officer, the most
callous spectator could not fail to have his emotions stirred. His pride is
flattered. He is watching a ceremony whose perfection of execution and
beauty is symbolic of an institution that in a sense belongs to him, to the
man next to him, and to all the spectators along the line. It is the product of
America. No wonder he reverently removes his hat as the colors march by.

No less beautiful although not so elaborate is the ceremony of parade.
During the spring and fall, daily parades are given by the battalion that has
attended infantry drill on that day. The drummers sound the first call in the
sally-port. The Area of Barracks is practically deserted, but within the
rooms cadets are feverishly adjusting their belts, wiping off their guns,
struggling into their coats, or looking for mislaid breastplates. Out of the
doors all at once begin to dart the plebes, first one then another, and still
others. They hastily proceed to their places on the walk and mark the rear
rank. The hands of the clock slowly creeping around to the hour for the
assembly are watched intently by the Officer of the Day who stands in the
sally-port ready to give the signal.

From all the doors of the barracks are now pouring the upper-classmen
immaculately dressed in stiffly starched and evenly creased white trousers,
gleaming white belts, and shining buckles. Their faces are so obscured by
the chin strap of their high dress hat that all personalities are lost, and each
man appears to be the duplicate of his fellow. The picturesqueness of the
uniforms and the background of the severe stone barracks recall the days of
Frederick the Great. The assembly sounds. At once the companies are
formed and inspected. They proceed to their places in the sally-ports and
between the neighboring buildings preparatory to debouching on the Plain.
At the termination of the Adjutant’s call the band begins its march. One
company emerges unexpectedly from the north sally-port, another from the
south, another from near the Academic building, still one more from the
shadow of the old gymnasium. More of them keep coming and move out on
the Plain. The fresh green grass offers a charming contrast to the white of
the uniforms as the companies perform their evolutions before advancing to

the line. The Plain is dotted with companies in column, companies in line,
companies in columns of platoons, marching in perfect cadence as if
animated by machinery.

Parade on the Plain

The line is now formed stretching from the flag pole to the trees in front of
barracks. A few minutes of silence reign over the parade while the Adjutant
moves smartly and rapidly to his place in front of the Battalion, and by
command, brings the Corps to “parade rest.” The golden sun sinking in the
west plays its dying rays on the long gray line, causing the men in ranks to
blink and blink on account of its brilliancy, and illuminating the bell buttons
of the dress coats until they sparkle like so many gems. Meanwhile, the
band has marched in front of the Corps and resumed its place on the right.
The retreat sounds. Then a hush falls over the visitors’ seats as the
spectators rise to do honor to the flag, while the neighboring hills
reverberate with the strains of the Star Spangled Banner. The exercise in
the manual of arms being terminated, the band once again crashes forth and

the thin gray line of cadet officers, with their feathered plumes fluttering
and the knots of their red ashes swinging back and forth, sweeps forward to
the officer reviewing the parade. Smart salutes are exchanged, the cadet
officers face about and return to their companies to march them in review
and back to barracks.

Hand in hand with the Infantry instruction goes that of the Cavalry to which
is allotted the next greatest amount of time in the schedule of training.
Cadets are taught the fundamentals of every branch of the Service, and all
cadets receive instruction in riding and in Cavalry tactics whether or not
they are destined for that arm. Infantry officers must know how to ride as
well as those of the mounted branches. Frequently their duties require them
to be mounted, and when they arrive at the grade of field officer, major, and
above, they are obliged to command their troops from the back of a horse. It
is only during their first year at the Academy that cadets do not attend
cavalry instruction. When they become Third Classmen their acquaintance
with the horse begins. Cadets must be taught to ride before they can be
advanced to the tactics of the cavalry, and as a matter of fact, learning to
ride well takes so much of the allotted time that comparatively little is left
for the cavalry problems. The cadets who join this branch of the service will
learn their cavalry tactics chiefly in the Army.

Beginning with the Yearlings, therefore, lessons are given in equitation,
outdoors in good weather and in the magnificent Riding Hall during the
winter. At first life in the Riding Hall is hard for those men who have never
before ridden, but once they learn the art of “sticking on” they enjoy the
exercise that riding affords. The first few weeks are particularly trying.
When the Yearlings march in upon the spongy tanbark, they find themselves
face to face with a whole row of bareback horses lined up along one side of
the hall. The animals are champing their bits and wagging their heads
apparently in sheer joy of the anticipation of “policing” a few victims. Little
chills run up and down the spines of the Yearlings and their bodies are
covered with goose flesh as they read the challenge in the eyes of the
beasts.

“Fall out!” orders the instructor. Ranks are broken and the men run over to
the grinning horses, scrutinizing them with breathless impatience, first one,

then the other, hoping to catch a sight of a kind and gentle glance.

“1. Prepare to mount! 2. Moun-n-n-n-t!” commands the instructor in a
sepulchral voice. Then follow frantic efforts to climb the slippery hides—
ineffectual jumps succeeded by sudden descents. Finally they get aboard
and all goes well until the heartless instructor intones:

“Slow trot. March-h-h-h-h-h!”

Such efforts at balancing never before were seen! One man on a razorback
tries every spot from the mane to the croup in an attempt to find one little
piece of hide whereon he might sit in peace and quiet; another on an
imitation Percheron wabbles most dangerously and falls off going around
the curve; another is firmly grasping the mane, or tugging at the iron mouth
of some malicious brute that insists upon holding its head high, with both
ears bent back to enjoy the muttered curses of the rider. The galleries are
lined with the daily visitors who smile gleefully upon the embryo
cavalrymen, but the distressed Yearling’s gaze turns reproachfully toward
the spot where the young girls of the Post may be seen bunched together
and giggling.

As the days pass by the Yearling finds that his seat becomes more and more
secure and by the time that he has arrived at the dignity of a Second
Classman he feels that he is able to cope with the wildest of the equine
breed. During the first year the drill was more or less drudgery, but after
twelve months of practice he enjoys the lessons. He feels the pleasure that
comes from the ability to make one’s muscles obey the will, to feel the
horse yielding to the slightest touch of leg or rein. The thrill of the leap over
the ditch and of the jump over the wall are sensations that he loves. Later on
when he goes out to the cavalry drill ground for instruction in tactics, it is
the gallop and the charge en masse that give a new meaning to the word
“drill.” It is no longer a task but a pleasure.

His progress in handling his horse enables him to proceed to mounted pistol
practice and to enjoy the privilege of riding on the road, and of polo. By the
time that he has become a First Classman he is ready to devote his time not
so much to equitation as to real Cavalry instruction. He learns how to
reconnoiter, how to patrol. As in his Infantry instruction, he must solve

problems innumerable: the forming of the advance and rear guards, the
establishing of outposts, making and breaking camp, the proper conduct of
the march, how to care for his horse the same as though he were an enlisted
man. He must groom him, feed him, and water him. He is called upon to
perform every duty that is required of enlisted men in the Cavalry so that
when he shall become an officer, he will know just how much to expect of
his men. He will so understand the fatigue of grooming, the difficulty of
managing some horses, and the impossibility of always being alert and
attentive that he will be patient and sympathetic, judging his men by their
limited advantages and not by the standard that he has attained through a
training par excellence.

Portions of the Cavalry instruction are devoted to hippology and to packing.
In hippology the cadets study a text-book upon which they recite, but in
addition they are frequently taken to the stables where all types of horses
are trotted out for their inspection and criticism. They must be able to tell
all of the horse’s good and bad points and must be conversant with the
remedies for the ordinary diseases. The packing is entirely practical. A pack
train is kept at West Point for the use of the cadets, and they are drilled in
putting up an aparejo and packing the mules. They must be experts in
throwing the diamond hitch.

The branch of the Service, however, that is more closely allied to the
Infantry than the Cavalry is the Field Artillery. They are indeed brother
arms. In the fight the Artillery must prepare the way for the Infantry, using
its powerful explosive shells to demoralize and decimate the enemy so that
the Infantry’s task, hard enough at best, may be made easier. Among the
cadets the Field Artillery is a popular branch of the training almost rivaling
the Cavalry. The course of instruction is splendidly progressive. During
Fourth-Class year, the plebes learn all about the instruments, how to set the
sights, to read the scales, the use of the quadrant, and to perform the duties
of cannoneer. By the time that they go into their Yearling camp each
individual is sufficiently trained to be a good gunner, so that the class is
ready to receive instruction both in the squad acting alone, and as part of a
battery. During the fall and drill periods of the Third-Class year, the
Yearlings are called upon to perform the duties of driver, sometimes wheel
driver and again lead driver. As in the Cavalry instruction, the cadets must

learn all of the duties of enlisted men. Their experience as drivers will teach
them how hard it is to bring horses and carriage to a stop at a designated
place, how difficult it is to estimate the ground correctly, and how a man’s
patience can be tried by fractious and unruly beasts.

The members of the Second Class are taught in the fall the technique of the
mountain battery, and in the spring they act as officers at the drill of the
field battery while the First Classmen who have already passed through this
stage of the training are detailed to command the organization. The First
Classmen also spend a great deal of their time upon the theory of artillery
fire, and practice accumulating firing data. During the First-Class camp
they conduct regular target practice with the battery.

Photo White Studio

At Target Practice on the Flats

The course in Field Artillery has been vastly improved in recent years. All
of the instruction is given by Field Artillery officers, and non-commissioned

officers who are specialists along certain lines, instead of as in former days
by a stray Infantry, Cavalry, or Coast Artillery Tactical officer. All the plebe
drill period at that time seemed to be consumed in jumping up on the
caisson and off again. I always felt like a squirrel in a cage going round and
round without getting anywhere. Sometimes, too, the instructions that the
officer gave us were a little mixed to say the least. I remember once an
instructor to whom Field Artillery was an alien art giving us at drill the
following order much to the merriment of the plebes:

“The cadets will now be divided into three squads: those that have fired,
those that have not fired, and those that have done neither.”

There are other drills in the cadet’s military calendar besides those of the
three main branches of the mobile army. No little attention is given to
Practical Military Engineering. In camp one third of the class spends four
hours of the day practicing the various methods of signaling, how to make
knots and lashes, how to construct gabions and fascines, how to use tackle,
and how to construct bridges. The First Class make position and road
sketches, they lay out field fortifications, and dig trenches. They learn the
use of explosives, the placing of mines, and the dynamiting of trees,
buildings, and railroads. During the Academic year the Department of
Practical Military Engineering gives the Fourth Class a thorough course in
surveying that embraces both theory and practical work with the
instruments in the field.

The Tactical Department is charged with the instruction of the Coast
Artillery. Several modern batteries, both rifles and mortars, are installed at
West Point so that the cadets may have every facility for learning the
technique of this arm. The Yearlings act as gunners, performing the same
duties that are required of privates in the Regular Army. The Second
Classmen act as gun pointers, range and azimuth setters, do the plotting and
observing, or, in other words, perform the duties of non-commissioned
officers in the Regular Service. The First Classmen act as battery officers or
as range officers, so that upon graduation they may join their commands
fully acquainted with their prospective duties.

After the Corps has been given the maximum of military training for any
one year, a week’s practice march is held as a climax to the intensive work

of the summer camp. With band playing and with all the panoply of war the
cadets march down to the ferry to cross to the other side of the Hudson. For
the next six days they march and maneuver through the beautiful country in
the neighborhood of West Point. Every day camp is established at a new
point and a problem worked out on the march from one place to the other.
All branches of the Service are represented. The main body of the Corps go
as Infantry, but the First Class make up the Cavalry and Field Artillery. The
“hike” is a valuable experience for the cadets. They learn what it means to
be a “doughboy” and carry a pack on one’s back through the sweltering heat
and the dust of the road. They appreciate how tired the Cavalryman and the
Field Artilleryman are when they throw themselves down in their pup tents
after the labors of the day. Their understanding of real soldiering is
broadened and their sympathy for the duties that enlisted men have to
perform, awakened. They return to the Post, footsore and weary, prepared to
take up their studies in barracks and continue their military training in the
limited time after recitations.

During the entire year all military instruction ceases at six o’clock in the
evening. Military methods are, however, inextricably woven into every part
of the cadet life in addition to what might be called purely military training.
All during the evening study period, for example, a certain number of
cadets are on guard in the hall of the divisions to prevent the cadets from
visiting in each other’s rooms, and to preserve the utmost silence in the
barracks. The only noise that can be heard is the tread of the sentinel who
walks back and forth wrapped in his own thoughts that occasionally are
interrupted by the Corporal of the Guard sticking his head in at the door and
saying:

“All right on your post?”

“All right, sir,” answers the sentinel, who as soon as his superior disappears
replunges into his reverie until time for his relief.

At twenty minutes past nine a preliminary tapping of the drums is heard on
the Plain near the Commandant’s quarters. A few minutes of silence ensue.
Then the music of the fifes and drums startles the night as the drum corps
commences its march to barracks to sound tattoo. The notes of the fifes
float out over the darkened Plain in the weirdest possible manner, as if the

spirits of the night were trying to be gay but could not suppress a certain
plaintiveness in spite of their joy. They are like a little boy going upstairs in
the dark who keeps saying out loud, “I’m not afraid, I’m not afraid.” On
they come, the music growing louder and louder, until they reach the sally-
port where their racket is a signal to the cadets to cease work and make
down their beds. Some of the men are already asleep, but the vast majority
are still sitting at tables, supporting their heads on their hands as they try to
absorb the meaning of the printed words that dance before their eyes. The
Drum Corps has ceased to play and stands near the Guard House waiting
for half-past nine. The silence of the Area is broken only by the tramp of the
third relief marching around the stoop of barracks from one division to
another.

Photo White Studio

At P. M. E. Drill
Building a Pontoon Bridge

“No. 1. Off!” commands the Corporal.

The sentinel joins his leader and passes on to relieve the other sentinels.
Meanwhile the hands of the clock indicate nine-thirty. The “Hell Cats”
sound the tattoo. For the next half-hour the barracks are animated with
cadets running up and down stairs to the showers, with the noise of beds
being made down and water drawn. Gradually ten o’clock draws near. The
Officer of the Day standing in the Area turns to the musicians:

“Sound taps!” he commands.

Thump! Thump! Thump! goes the drum in measured beat.
“Li-i-i-i-i-ghts out!” call the subdivision inspectors. The windows of the
barracks seem to blink for a moment and then darkness envelops all of the
rooms.

And so ends the day that has been continually under the eyes of the Tactical
Department. The next day will be the same and the next and the next. Next
year, too, the mills of the Gods will be grinding away bending, twisting,
shaping Mr. Ducrot for his future work. No act of his is passed unnoticed or
unrecorded. Every time that he performs a duty the “Tacs” give him a mark
that goes toward determining his standing in military efficiency and
deportment. This is as it should be because the attitude toward duty that he
displays as a cadet is a good indication of his future attitude as an officer,
and to deny to merit, talents, and acquirements their just rewards would be
to check the emulation which brings genius into action and qualifies the
industrious student to become an ornament to his country.

The object of the Tactical Department is to make the cadets loyal, obedient,
and disciplined young soldiers. It requires them to perform all of the duties
of the enlisted men of the Army as a method of understanding what an
officer can demand of his men. They can then go to their regiments with a
sympathetic understanding of the trials and thorns in the path of the men for
whose lives they are responsible. Moreover the “Tacs” aim to give the cadet
a good training in the fundamental principles of the tactics of each arm so
that he leaves the Academy prepared to take up the duties of a subaltern. He

is not supposed to leave West Point with the knowledge of a colonel as
some seem to think.

In our present war with Germany, West Point will continue to send forth her
product as heretofore to help train the immense number of recruits for the
new Army. They will be called upon to train also the new officers that are
needed for the large force that we will raise, and to this task they must bring
not only a practical knowledge of certain drills, but a mind capable of
thinking straight. They will lend all of the aid that is possible but they
realize also that in training officers, drill and mechanical maneuvers,
however useful they may be, are subordinate to the more rare and difficult
acquirements that alone can produce accomplished and scientific officers.
What is chiefly needed in an officer is acuteness of intellect, either the
result of genius or habits of reasoning on scientific subjects. To this of
course must be added tactical knowledge, the foundation of which is
securely laid at West Point.

In the immense army that will soon be ours, the graduates of West Point
will indeed be a small leaven, but I am confident they will bring to this
mass of raw soldier material the ideals and the spirit of their Alma Mater.
They will not forget the lessons learned at her knee, but will justify to the
nation that has given them their education the soundness of West Point’s
methods of training officers.

CHAPTER X
HENCE, LOATHED MELANCHOLY!

F OR days and days groups of Army Service Corps men going around
the Post clipping the trees, mowing the grass on the Plain, and
daubing with black paint the cannon on Trophy Point have been
heralding the approach of June. The odors of the fresh grass and of the tar in
the gutters are exhilarating smells for every cadet in the Corps. There are
buoyancy and hope in their manner and a decided note of anticipation in the
air. This feeling of anticipation is the greatest charm of a cadet’s life. It
really begins with the candidate before he enters the Academy. He
anticipates his entrance; then as a plebe, he looks forward with even greater
pleasure to the day of his “recognition” when he shall become an upper-
classman. Words are too weak to express the eagerness with which, as a
Yearling, he sees the spring slip by and June arrive bringing with it his long
desired furlough. And then he has before his eyes the seeming El Dorado of
graduation.

Our plebe, Mr. Ducrot, is especially on the qui vive for the passage of the
days. Ever since the snow left the Plain and the surrounding hills, and the
first little blades of grass began to peep through the boggy spring earth, his
attitude toward life has somehow seemed different. For the past ten months
he has led the life of an obscure being, like the silk worm in his cocoon
spinning his silk. He has almost completed his work of the plebe year and is
about to emerge from his shell. For a few weeks he is seized with the
languor of spring. The drills while not irksome seem unduly long; the
lessons harder to prepare. But as the days of May fly by he feels his wings
growing stronger and stronger and the spring fever is forgotten in the
anticipation of being a Yearling.

At last the first of June arrives! At reveille even, everyone is happy. He tries
his best to answer about a dozen upper-classmen who ask him all at once,

“Mr. Ducrot, how many days until June?”

“No days until June, sir!” he replies in a voice that vibrates with joy. It is
hard for Mr. Ducrot to believe that the day that he has so long anticipated is
here. It has been so long coming. He cannot be mistaken, however, for all
around him are cadets in fresh white trousers, the first time since the
previous summer. He knows that for years and years it has been the custom
for “the Battalion to go into white” on the first of June, at reveille. Only a
few days now remain before he will put aside his humility and meekness
and be received by the upper-classmen upon terms of equality.

The great metamorphosis or “recognition,” as it is called, occurs upon the
day before graduation, immediately after the return of the Battalion from
supper, and just prior to the graduation ball. On this night, at supper
formation and in the Mess Hall, the upper-classmen are particularly severe.
They “brace” and “crawl” the plebes more than ever before, filling the air
with, “Get your shoulders back, Mr. Ducrot, more yet! more yet!” or, “Draw
in that chin!” On this night, however, the whole affair seems humorous, for
the plebes have completed their year and the upper-classmen are now about
to extend to them a warm handclasp. In order not to let the plebe training
fizzle out or have an inglorious end, the rigor of the “crawling” that for
months has diminished little by little is all at once revived with great
earnestness and enthusiasm. No one minds, however, but regards this last
evening’s treatment more as a “grind,” or joke.

After supper the battalions form in front of the Mess Hall and march back
to the barracks in the soft June twilight. To the observer at a distance, a roar
seems to arise from the ranks as the corporals, sergeants, and lieutenants
hurl corrections at the plebes. The noise continues until the Corps wheels
into line to listen to the orders of the first captain standing under the trees in
front of the barracks consulting with the Officer of the Day. The various
instructions and orders having been announced he commands:

“Dismiss your companies!”

At once the upper-classmen in the front ranks turn and cordially grasp the
hands of the plebes and slap them on the back, the first time in a year since
their arrival at West Point. All of the dreariness of a year’s subjection is

dissipated by the affectionate and fraternal welcome in the Corps proper by
the upper-classmen, whose strong grips are to the plebe a sufficient reward
for the hardships of the year just completed. Friendships whose seeds were
sown, but prevented from growing by the great gulf between upper-
classmen and plebes, now find their fullest opportunity for development.
The Rubicon is passed, and our plebe lays aside his sackcloth-and-ashes
manner for the more man-of-the-world one of a Yearling. And richly does
he deserve this recompense for his manliness and grit! Following Kipling’s
advice in If, he has for a long year (sometimes by force majeure) filled “the
unforgiving minute with sixty seconds’ worth of distance run,” so that his
“recognition” by his fellow cadets means that he is stamped approved, and
that he is entitled to associate with real men.

Mr. Ducrot is now entitled to enjoy all the privileges allowed the cadets by
regulation and by the custom of the Corps. As a plebe, tradition ordains that
he shall not attend the hops, or be allowed the social recreations of the
upper-classman, but now the bars to the pasture of pleasures are removed
and he scampers in like a young colt to enjoy his new freedom.

The two months of camp life that follow graduation give cadets plenty of
opportunities to enjoy their spare moments. The entire forenoon is taken up
with the various kinds of military instruction, with infantry drill, practical
military engineering, target practice, artillery drill, equitation, swimming,
and what not, but the afternoon is at their disposal from the return of the
Battalion from dinner until parade at five-thirty. They have many diversions
from which to choose. Close by the camp are five tennis courts for the
devotees of the racquet. Upon the Plain is a good golf course for those who
like this sport and speak its unintelligible language. A selected number of
the First Class defy the afternoon heat playing polo down on the Flats,
while others don their bathing suits and go canoeing upon the river. The less
energetic throw their blankets in the shade of the trees near the Y. M. C. A.
tent and abandon themselves to a siesta, or to the delights of some good
book.

Then, there are the social beings who spend most of their time in the society
of girls. They are the “spoonoids” of the Corps. After dinner they flock en
masse either to the visitors’ seats or to the hotel where mothers, sisters,

sweethearts, friends and friends’ friends gather around admiringly. It must
not be imagined that all “spoonoids” are alike. There are the virulent kind
who are never in camp during “release from quarters,” who are never seen
on the athletic field except in a dress coat. They are always rushing some
girl, first one, then another, and are of the genus that are never quite on time
for any formation. They come running into camp at the last minute,
breathless and excited, and are peevish if everyone doesn’t turn in and help
them into their belts for parade. Then there is the more moderate
“spoonoid,” the unobtrusive sort, who, when he goes walking with a girl,
dons his comfortable gray shirt and white trousers, and sets forth carrying a
few deceptive golf sticks. Lastly, there is the timid kind who sneaks into his
dress coat and tries to slip out of camp without being seen by his fellows.
He really wants to go out but he is a little ashamed of his desire, and he
doesn’t want the other chaps to know anything about it. Besides, the chorus
of “ahs-s-s-s-s-s!” from all the tents along the line terrify him.

West Point, however, is indebted to these social beings for the touch of
romance and glamour that they give to the summer life. Their bright
uniforms and the gay dresses of their partners (and the still gayer parasols)
are seen everywhere on Flirtation Walk, on the balcony back of Cullum
Hall, on the Plain, and chiefly at the visitors’ seats, and their youth and
enthusiasm add a distinct charm to the social life.

But the real amusements and pleasures of summer camp come after supper.
Thrice weekly small hops are held from eight to ten o’clock and on the
other three nights open-air concerts are given by the band.

The hops are the most popular and enjoyed of all the pleasures. The
Yearlings have an opportunity of showing how much they profited by their
dancing lessons of the previous summer and they flock to Cullum Hall in
droves. On hop nights the camp is practically deserted. Some few men who
do not care for dancing, and another small group who pose as women
haters, remain in the limits visiting one another or reading. The new plebes,
of course, are in their tents, silently working upon their equipment.
Commencing at seven-thirty, however, a stream of upper-classmen begins
passing the guard tents, signing out for the hop, bound first for the hotel or
for some officers’ quarters where charming young partners await them. As

soon as darkness falls the couples set forth for the dance. As they emerge
out of the obscurity of the Plain into the brilliant light that pours out of the
main entrance of the hall they appear for all the world like a lot of summer
insects drawn to a bright electric bulb.

It is a charming picture that the cadets in their uniforms and the girls in their
pretty dresses make as they gather in Cullum Hall for the dances. It recalls
all of the stories of beauty and chivalry that poets have so often idealized.
As I watch them today, their youth tempts my imagination and it runs away,
but as a matter of truth the reality is not quite so ideal.

The cadets, even the most imaginative, see things more clearly and
recognize that some of the girls that come to the hops were not the subject
of the poet’s thought when he wrote his odes to beauty. There are all sorts of
girls. There are young girls, and some not so young; pretty girls and homely
ones; vivacious girls and inanimate ones; intelligent girls and dull ones; and
occasionally some few attend the dances who are so little favored with
feminine charms that for years the cadets have called them “L. P.’s.” These
damsels are usually the friends of friends, or maybe, the friends of friends
of friends—very distant as you see, and the poor cadet is called upon to pay
off his friend’s social debt. He does it well, too, for the dances are all by
card so that every girl has her partners arranged beforehand, and she leaves
the ball having experienced the intoxication of a great belle.

The cadets have no little fun over these girls, and if by any chance they
know them ahead of time they make an attempt to ensnare one of their
classmates, saying:

“Say, Jim, there is a peach of a femme coming up for the next dance, will
you ‘drag’ her for me?”

He elaborates upon her charms with the deceit of an experienced politician
until accommodating Jim accepts.

Most men, however, are wily about these unknown friends’ friends, but
occasionally they are caught. I know one cadet who was asked to take such
a girl to a hop. He replied that he would not do so himself but that he would
find some other cadet. With true Irish persuasiveness and unexampled

Blarney he prevailed upon a classmate. When the latter was making out the
card of the supposedly beautiful girl (but in reality a true L. P.) his first
thought was to offer some dances to the promoter of the young lady. The
arch-plotter, however, innocently replied:

“I’m awfully sorry, Joe, but my card is full.”

This answer appeared exceedingly strange to Joe, until he beheld his partner
for the dance. Then the base ingratitude of his friend so enraged him that he
at once broke off all diplomatic and social relations.

So wary have the cadets become lest they be taken in, that when a fellow
cadet comes out into the hall to get one of the stags to dance with a girl, he
is at once the object of suspicion. When he asks his friend to take a dance
because the girl’s partner failed to turn up, or what not, the friend instantly
demands:

“Where is she?” “Where is she?”

Some of the more astute cadets then point out the prettiest girl in sight
saying:

“There she is; she’s a fiend,” meaning she is all that is to be desired, and
lead off their victim apparently in her direction, but by a well-planned
movement, the victim is shunted off so that before he realizes it he finds
himself bowing before Miss L. P. His comrade has escaped in the crowd,
leaving him to “darkness and despair.” Here begins a desultory
conversation, not marked by any great intellectual effort.

L. P.: “Do you like to dance?”

Cadet: “Yes, do you?”

(Long pause—atmosphere strained.)

Polite cadet: “Isn’t this a beautiful hall?”

L. P.: “Yes, how many lights are there in the ceiling?”

Cadet: “340.”

(Second longer pause—atmosphere at breaking point.)

Usually a chap relieves the situation by suggesting:

“Let’s go out on the balcony.”

There one can at least console himself with the beauty of the scene, for
unless devoid of all feeling, no person can behold the glory of the Hudson
from the balcony of Cullum Hall, by night, or better, by moonlight without
being greatly stirred.

Two hundred feet immediately below the balcony lies the river, apparently
calm and unruffled, but anyone who knows it well visualizes the deep
current beneath that flows resistlessly toward the sea. On moonlight nights
its surface is agleam from the rays of the full moon standing almost stock-
still over the hills that form the river’s opposite banks. Here and there as far
down as Anthony’s Nose the obscurity is dotted with lights mostly yellow,
but with an occasional red or green that tells of the approach of a boat.
Peace and beauty reign over this scene. It is as if one were gazing upon the
enchanted garden of a land of fairies. Occasionally the charm and wonder
of the river are added to by the passage of a night boat that goes churning
by, brilliantly lighted, with its name Berkshire or Trojan outlined in electric
lights, and with its searchlight flashing broad beams on the banks, first on
this spot, then on the other. The operator plays the beam upon the Riding
Hall, then slowly passes it to the Administration building, bathing the tower
in light, then to the Officers’ Mess, or maybe some caprice will seize him
and up dances the beam to the chapel on the hill, descending as captiously
to Cullum Hall. For a few moments the entire balcony is illuminated by the
cold light of the searchlight that reveals other cadets and their girls, some
seated on the broad granite railing, and others strolling up and down. The
beam moves slightly upward, and the beauty of Cullum’s classic lines is
outlined against the blackness of the night. Then a jerky movement of the
operator’s arm and darkness once more enshrouds the building. The steamer
passes on, darting its beam back and forth like a spoiled child, until it
rounds Gee’s Point where it is lost to view.

The strains of the music draw all of the couples back to the ball room. A
more beautiful hall for a dance could hardly be imagined. Conceived by the
artistic brain of Stanford White, it forms a most exquisite setting for the
gray and white uniforms of the cadets and the rainbow hues of the gowns.
The fine old portraits of West Point’s famous generals, the wall bronzes
commemorating their deeds, the battle-torn flags, the Mexican cannon, the
names of the great victories of the Mexican and Civil wars, are inspiring
surroundings for young men and women. The atmosphere of the hall impels
the cadets to be chivalrous and courteous. It would be impossible not to
have good manners in such a hall. It is no wonder that the cadets enjoy the
dances and that the girls find a certain glamour in the entertainments.

On the nights when there are no hops, the concerts are held, and although
lacking the brilliancy of the dances, they have a delightful charm of their
own. Twice a week the concerts are given in camp, and once a week in front
of the quarters of the Superintendent. Upon these occasions the visitors’
seats are crowded, chiefly with the officers, their families, and guests. Here
and there on the parade ground are groups of cadets and girls seated on
camp stools. The chaperone sits near by wrapped in a blanket to protect her
from the heavy dew of the evening. Perhaps, another group will be made
more comfortable by some energetic cadets who spread their blankets on
the ground for seats and arrange camp stools on their sides for backs. The
band is conspicuously placed on a concrete stand, whose brilliant lights
cause the iron supports to cast weird shadows over the listening crowd.

On concert nights the camp is much more animated than on hop nights.
Many cadets do not go beyond the hedge or frequent the visitors’ seats, but
remain in their tents stretched out lazily upon their blankets, where they
“laugh and joke, and talk and smoke, and turn to boys again.” Here, clad
chiefly in their underclothes, they comfortably enjoy the music, reveling in
the freedom from the stiff uniform.

Occasionally, to add to their pleasure, a squad of plebes is summoned and
ordered to prepare for Olympus a delicious “brew.” One upper-classman
who takes the rôle of Zeus directs the plebe messengers of the gods how to
brew the libation. Having detailed one plebe to perform the duties of
Ganymede, Zeus orders him to get his own G. I. (galvanized iron) water

bucket, clean it thoroughly, squeeze the lemons, add the sugar and water,
and taste it until pronounced perfect. To give the brew a proper color and
add a little pungency, a bottle of grape juice is recklessly poured into the
delectable drink. With the strains of the music floating over the camp and
dippers full of “brew” constantly at one’s elbow, the upper-classmen
reclining at their feast rival the luxury of the Romans of old. Nor are the
“messengers” forgotten. They are permitted, as a reward for their services,
to drink their fill from the brimming bucket. Of course, there are a few
“eats” too; nothing elaborate, but oh! how good! saltines, peanut butter, and
jam! Words to conjure with!

Or perhaps, a roving crowd of Yearlings, restless and filled with adventure,
go from company street to company street, visiting, playing pranks and
jokes, poking their heads into some plebe’s tent, almost scaring him to
death by yelling:

“Mister, what’s your name.”

“Mr. Ducrot, sir!”

“Who am I?” asks the Yearling.

“I don’t know, sir!”

“What!!! don’t know who I am? Well, Mr. Ducrot, you’re pretty ignorant,
you get that; you ‘bone’ me up!”

On goes the gang from one tent to another, drawn to some parts of the camp
by a “brew” fight, or to another part by the tinkling of some mandolins and
strumming of some guitars. From the depths of each street strong voices
call out to their comrades in other companies: “Oh-h-h-h-h! Scott Fulton-n-
n!” More often the night is startled by the frequent call:

“Turn out a plebe!”

Out of the tents bound a dozen plebes to find out the wishes of the Mighty
One.

In the camp there are many sharp contrasts. Strangest of all is to see some
serious-minded cadet seated in his tent calmly reading, enthralled by the
contents of a book, while all around him are disturbing distractions. Neither
the fluttering of the moths and lady bugs around his electric light, the
attentions of the mosquitoes, nor the laughter and chatter of his comrades,
nor the crashing music of the band seem to draw him from his imaginary
world. Not even the cry of “Yea! Furlo-o-o-o ...!” so oft repeated by the
Yearlings, makes any impression upon him. Whenever a Yearling has a little
surplus energy that he must get rid of, he sticks his head out of the tent and
yells:

“Yea! Furlo-o-o-o ...!”

From all parts of the camp, voices echo the call, and for a few seconds the
air vibrates with the sound of hopeful voices.

After a plebe has been recognized and has become a Yearling, the one
engrossing thought of his life is his furlough. This furlough, coming at the
end of his second year, is the only vacation accorded the cadet in the four
years, and is anticipated by him with the keenest yearnings. For two years
he has been living under the severest discipline and restrictions and
separated from the loved ones at home. The thought of returning again to
the family circle and of picking up all of the old threads of friendship
causes a lively feeling of joy to fill his manly young heart. It is no wonder
that “Yea! Furlo-o-o-o ...!” finds a sympathetic response in the hearts of all
who have been cadets.

On Sunday evenings, usually a dull time in camp, the regular concerts by
the Military Academy Band are replaced by a concert given by the cadets
themselves. This entertainment is known as the Color Line concert. A
canvas is made of the plebe class and all of these who admit any musical
talent are ordered to practice. Mandolins, guitars, violins are all brought out
and the whole aggregation, plebes and upper-classmen, assemble in front of
the hedge. For an hour or more they play and sing for their comrades and
friends, who sit around on blankets or camp stools, and wave burning
Chinese joss sticks to drive away the tormenting mosquitoes. The simplicity
of the entertainment gives to these little Color Line concerts an intimate and
charming atmosphere.

As soon as the concert is over the crowd quickly disperses, the girls going
to the hotel or wherever they happen to be stopping, and the cadets to their
company streets. The quiet of Sunday evening is then for half an hour
broken by the shouts of the men as they litter up the company streets trying
to assort their clothing for the Monday wash.

“Turn out a wash list, you plebes!” “Step out, Mr. Ducrot!” are heard on all
sides.

There grows thereupon before one’s eyes small piles of drawers,
undershirts, socks, towels, and white duck uniforms. Each article is
carefully counted and listed because if the laundry discover an error on the
slip, or find the garment of some other cadet in the bag, a report is entered
against the offender for which he receives a demerit. Furthermore, the name
of each cadet must be distinctly marked upon each article of clothing.

It is not to be supposed that any such fortunate set of circumstances would
escape the attention of the practical jokers among the cadets. Often the
surnames of certain men are identical with the given names of girls, as for
example, Grace, or Bell(e) or Nelly. Naturally, their garments are all
marked in this way. The jokers surreptitiously steal an article or two from
each of the above and slip it in the bag of the most Y. M. C. A. man in the
company. The following day when the delinquency list is read out the Corps
is thrown into gales of laughter by the following reports:

“Cadet Prude: one pair of drawers in wash marked ‘Grace’”; or “Cadet
Helldodger: one undershirt in bag marked ‘Nelly.’”

The legitimate amusements of the day are at an end. Taps comes and
plunges the camp into darkness and all turn in for their much needed rest. It
is then that the practical jokers begin to think of their nefarious plots. They
remain quiet for some time until the inspections are made and the company
commander has retired after his half-hour solitary patrol of the company
street. When all the camp is apparently asleep, dark forms steal forth to
their rendezvous and proceed in a body to the tent of some classmate to
“drag” his cot. Cautiously they approach the tent, grab the ends of the cot
with the sleeping form, and quickly drag it to the center of the street. Just as
the occupant of the cot is rudely awakened, and tries to arise bewildering to

defend his rights, some one of the gang treats him to a cold bath from a
bucket of water provided beforehand. In the days of hazing this form of
amusement was practiced almost exclusively upon the plebes, but today the
men leave the plebes alone and devote their attention to their classmates
and friends.

When one is busy and happy the time flies by rapidly so that before the
cadet is aware of its flight, the summer camp is brought to a close with a
Color Line entertainment. The spare moments of the Corps are for days
beforehand spent in preparation for this event that marks the end of a happy
summer. The Practical Military Engineering squad now comes into its own.
They build roller coasters, triumphal arches, small theaters with cabarets,
Japanese gardens, with the greatest ingenuity and skill. The company streets
are transformed into bits of New York, Tokio, and Chinatown. Upon the
parade is erected a large open-air dancing platform smothered in the flags of
all nations, where the cadets and their guests dance away the last evening in
camp. They make the most of their opportunity, for the next day they must
return to the barracks and commence the Academic term.

Once the studies have been resumed, the time for diversion of any sort is
limited. The entire day from 6:00 until 10:00 P.M. is employed with studies,
drills, and necessary personal duties, so that there is nothing for the cadet
but work, work, work. There are, however, two weekly breaks in the severe
routine. One of these lulls is on Wednesday afternoon when there are no
drills, an arrangement that gives two hours of leisure to the cadets.

There are many ways of driving away dull care during these two hours. The
Second and Third Classmen, who have riding privileges, ride on the roads
around West Point where they enjoy, in the autumn, a variety of scenes of
surpassing beauty. Clad in their riding clothes, they impatiently await in the
barracks, usually in the lower hall, the first note of “release from quarters”
that is blown at 3:50 P.M. The moment the bugler raises his instrument to his
lips and sends forth the first sound of release from quarters the “ridoids,”
except First Classmen, burst from the hall and race to the stables in order to
secure their favorite mount. Each First Classman has his mount assigned to
him, so that he can be more leisurely in his movements.

Other men who prefer the society of books spend all of their leisure at the
library where they seek out a quiet corner and a big leather arm chair and
lose themselves in their surroundings. They enjoy the atmosphere of calm
dignity and peace that pervades the reading rooms in refreshing contrast to
the noise of barracks where the men are constantly running in and out,
calling to one another.

The noise in barracks, however, makes no impression on the men who
spend their leisure catching up with sleep. An inspection of the rooms on
Wednesday and Saturday afternoons would disclose many a cadet
“pounding joyously his ear.” Grown weary by the routine, he does not resist
the overpowering feeling of fatigue, but abandons himself to a delicious
slumber.

Meanwhile, numbers of his comrades are out on the athletic field engaged
in tennis, golf, or if not playing, encouraging by their presence the work of
the football team. The leisure moments of a large percentage of the cadets
are given over in the fall to practicing football songs and yells. Usually,
some cadet who lacks self-consciousness and who is popular with his
fellows, is selected as cheer leader. Under his direction the cadets practice
their songs and yells, while the team perfects its play in front of them on the
gridiron. At no institution of learning does there exist among the students a
greater esprit de corps than among the cadets. In the fall, all sorts of
personal wishes and inclinations are stifled in order to attend the cheering
practice, and bring it to a high degree of perfection for the Saturday
afternoon games on the home grounds, and chiefly for the contest with the
Navy. Few of the cadets fail to turn out for the cheering, because these are
accused of lacking in spirit, and thereby lose prestige with their comrades.

Cadets who elect to devote their time to other forms of athletics, however,
are regarded with no reproach, but men who absent themselves in order to
attend teas or to go “spooning” are looked upon with some disfavor. Corps
spirit ranks everything in the eyes of the cadet, and he justly demands that it
come first.

Such is the way that cadets spend their two hours of leisure on Wednesday
afternoons. After the 1:30 P.M. inspection on Saturday the cadets are also at
liberty for the remainder of the day. They spend their time as described

above, the various diversions changing slightly with the seasons. Saturday
is anticipated with the greatest pleasure, for in addition to the afternoon
leisure, the evening is free to do as one pleases. How welcome is the
relaxation from incessant study! There are so many things to do. Some men
attend the hops that are held twice a month; others dine out at the officers’
quarters; still others go to the “Movies” which have become a stock
entertainment every Saturday evening in the gymnasium. Advantage is
taken of the freedom to visit one another’s rooms in the barracks, to laugh,
to talk, to “knock,” possibly to make some “fudge” on the electric stove that
spends the week days hidden in the recesses of some mattress. Perhaps one
of the men has received some money from home, unknown to the
authorities, and has treated his comrades to unlimited quantities of Huyler’s
from the Boodlers, or maybe an invitation has been received to a real
“party” after taps where cold turkey, jams, nuts, sandwiches, smuggled into
quarters, are eaten by an eternally hungry crowd. After such a feast the
condition of the room can better be imagined than described. The next
morning the occupants make the most frantic efforts to remove the grease
spots from the floor and table before the Sunday morning inspection. All of
the previous night’s feasters lend a hand in the scrubbing and polishing; the
plebes are called in to wave towels in the air, or anoint the furniture with
bay rum to drive out all odors of food that hung over the room from the
previous evening.

The two weekly breaks of Wednesday and Saturday are increased, however,
when the snows come in November. Drilling out of doors then becomes
impossible so that from 4:00 until 6:00 P.M. daily, the cadets are at liberty.
Most of the men spend these gray afternoon hours in the gymnasium, or in
reading. The Second Class has its riding class during this period.

After the football season, the diversions of the winter months are few. The
“spoonoids” whose acquaintance we made in camp recommence their
activities, chiefly visiting the quarters of officers. The most pernicious ones
are called by their comrades “Tea Hounds” or “Parlor Snakes,” in a good-
natured spirit, of course. The percentage of cadets who meet the officers’
families socially is small. The men who do most of the visiting upon the
Post are army officers’ sons who have known some of the instructors at
other Posts.

It is regrettable that so many men go through West Point without having
known any of the officers or their families socially. They meet the officers
only in an official way where the demands of discipline require formal
relations. This has a tendency to remove the officer too much from this
large number of cadets who lack the opportunity of knowing informally
men with whom they will later serve. Many cadets in consequence form
altogether erroneous impressions of their instructors that they carry with
them through their entire service, unless they are fortunate enough to meet
these gentlemen later on. While at West Point had they conversed
informally for a few minutes only over the dinner table, or at a dance, this
impression would have been eradicated.

The great gulf that has always separated the cadet from the officer is,
however, yearly becoming narrower. I have observed lately a different
attitude of the officers toward the cadets. Their manners are more cordial,
more sympathetic, and more informal. They treat the cadets more like men
instead of schoolboys; their manner is more that of a superior officer toward
a junior. The result is that the old defensive attitude of the cadet toward his
instructors is gradually disappearing, and he now regards his officers as
instructor coadjutors instead of instructor tyrants. This spirit is highly
beneficial to both officer and cadet, because the latter, feeling that his
instructor is ready to aid him, becomes very receptive and consequently
calls forth from the former a natural response unhampered by self-
consciousness.

Graduates of the Academy have often expressed their opinion that the
transition from a cadet to an officer is too abrupt, and have regretted that
before graduation a cadet did not acquire more the viewpoint of an officer.
It is not possible for a cadet to gain, simply through official contact with an
officer, ideas regarding the service and little points concerning the
command of enlisted men. Instruction in these matters is provided, but it
must be remembered that time is limited, and that all recitations, lectures,
talks, are in general marked by formality and a certain degree of restraint.

In order to make a distinction between the First Class and the under classes,
the authorities have established a social organization called the “First
Classmen’s Club.” Its object is to segregate the First Class from the

remainder of the Corps, entrust to it greater powers of command over the
other cadets, and to put into its hands more fully the discipline of the rest of
the Corps. In other words, its object is to inculcate in its members a greater
feeling of responsibility by giving them greater powers accompanied by
greater privileges. The privileges that are accorded thereby make them feel
that they have passed the schoolboy period, and prepare them to accept
properly the greater privileges of an officer. Although it is called the “First
Classmen’s Club,” it is in no sense a club as known in civilian life. Nothing
to drink, or to eat, is permitted, nor are there pool or billiard tables. The
Club has a spacious hall over the north sally-port of the new barracks; it is
supplied with papers, magazines, a phonograph, a piano, and games such as
dominoes and chess, and comfortable lounging chairs. This meager
equipment may appear ludicrous to the college man who is accustomed to
the comforts and luxuries of his fraternities, but to the West Pointer who
knows nothing but Spartan simplicity for the past three years, it means a
great deal. The First Classmen have the privilege of using the Club at all
times during the day, during call to quarters as well as during release from
quarters, but men who are deficient in their studies are denied its use during
study periods. The affairs of the Club are regulated by a Board of
Governors, of which the first captain is a member ex-officio.

With the exception of the First Classmen’s Club the authorities do not
permit any social organizations such as fraternities among the cadets. In the
first place, such bodies are in conflict with the principles of democracy
upon which the institution was founded and which still characterizes every
act of its administration; and in the second place, the cadet’s time is
otherwise employed to a greater extent than that of any other university
student in the country. West Pointers have no time for much else but to
study their profession and develop their bodies. The relaxations provided
for their spare moments are simple, healthful, and democratic.

There is, however, an organization at West Point called the Dialectic
Society. This body was originally organized as a literary club in 1824 for
purposes of discussing subjects more or less profound, and of affording
members an opportunity to read their literary efforts. Today, it is an
assembly room open to all upper-classmen who gather there either to read
or chat, or to enjoy the good fellowship of their comrades. It is also used as

a gathering place whenever the Corps wishes to deliberate upon some
weighty question that affects their body and that calls for a solution by a
referendum. Its rooms are now over the east sally-port of the north barracks.
Old graduates will remember its location as the hall over the north sally-
port of the old barracks. The present room is larger and better adapted for
the increased number of the Corps.

As the fall wears on the principal topic of conversation wherever the cadets
are gathered, whether in the Dialectic Hall or in the First Classmen’s Club,
is the approaching Christmas leaves. All thoughts center on the mid-winter
vacation, and efforts are bent to keeping off the delinquency list. Not all
cadets get Christmas leave. Those of the upper classes are granted leaves
from December 23d to 4:00 P.M., December 31st, provided that they are not
undergoing examinations, or special punishment, and that their number of
demerits for the preceding year has not been greater than nine per month in
barracks and twelve per month in camp. There are other provisos attached,
chief of which is the condition that a cadet must visit relatives or friends.
This regulation prohibits them from going to New York and staying at the
hotels. This restriction works a great hardship upon cadets from distant
States who have no relatives nearby, or who do not happen to have made
friends in the East; but its promulgation was found necessary to prevent the
cadets from going to the hotels where they borrowed money and got into
debt.

The tendency at West Point is to be more and more liberal about granting
leaves of absence. I personally feel that the new policy is the correct one.
The First Classmen especially should have the privilege of going to New
York occasionally during their last year. Their close restriction to the
Reservation at West Point where everything is done for them makes them
too dependent and not sufficiently self-reliant. Their appreciation, however,
of the vacation is indeed keen. No more happy faces could be imagined
than those of the cadets going on leave as they descend the hill to the
station. Not even the woe-begone and dejected attitude of their less
fortunate comrades can detract one bit from the exhilaration of their spirits.
Those left behind, either on account of studies or conduct, spend their time
tramping in the woods, or skating, bobbing, riding, reading, or else
“boning” for the dread ordeal of the examination.

The vacation ends on December 31st when the men on leave return to the
Post. That night is held the New Year’s hop for which the girls in shoals
come to West Point. It has always remained a mystery to me where these
girls come from. All of a sudden they descend upon the Post like a swarm
of locusts, and the next day as quickly disappear.

The characteristic feature of the New Year’s hop occurs at midnight. A few
seconds before twelve o’clock, a musician in the orchestra sounds the
“attention.” An impressive stillness falls over the ball room, while the
trumpeter blows “Taps” just as the old year dies. Not a person in the whole
room stirs. At the first stroke of twelve, the trumpeter blows the “Reveille,”
a signal that another year has awakened.

The cadets of the upper classes then rush to the center of the ball room,
form into class groups, and give their class yell. The under classes yell for
the First Class which politely responds with a class yell for each. The First
Classmen then end the incident by a yell, adding three prolonged and
joyous cries:

“Never again! Never again! Never again!”

They mean that never again as cadets at West Point will they attend a New
Year’s dance. They are announcing to all present the completion of a
definite period, the closing of one chapter of their lives that can never again
be relived. The music starts up, the dancers float off, and the incident is
soon forgotten, but to one standing by who takes the trouble to reflect a
little there is an element of sadness in the almost debonair manner that these
young men renounce a portion of their lives that has not been lacking in
benefits and in happy associations.

After the mid-winter break nothing interrupts the routine of the cadets’
ordinary diversions until the annual play on the 20th of February. The
upper-classmen give the Hundredth Night Play. It is ordinarily a satire upon
conditions at the Academy. The setting is invariably West Point, and the
principal characters are the officers on duty. The other characters satirize
the type with which West Point abounds: the cadet girl, her friend, the
chaperone, the cadet “spoonoid,” the professors and instructors. Shouts of
laughter greet the appearance of the impersonations of the officers, and

rounds of applause follow jokes gotten off at their expense. There is nothing
assumed or counterfeit about the genuineness of the cadets’ enjoyment.
There is, of course, an officer who censors the play before its production,
for although there is no more polite body of men in the world than the
Corps of Cadets, yet their enthusiasm and eagerness might lead them to
indulge in personalities that would offend. The Tactical officers who are
immediately over the cadets are most generally impersonated; the
exaggeration of their little weaknesses is not more enjoyed by the cadets
than by the officers themselves. In fact, whenever any one of them is left
out he rather regrets it.

The approach of spring leaves but little time for pleasure. Drills are
resumed after study hours, followed by parade and guard mounting, then
more study hours after supper. The Battalions must be whipped into shape
for June week; each class must be given drills to prepare the individuals for
their coming task in June. Many things occupy the cadets’ attention. The
First Classmen can think of little else except graduation. They are busy
looking over samples of uniforms, boots, civilian clothing, or ordering
same, or trying on uniforms. Some few have the added responsibility of
planning for their approaching marriage. Naturally, the interest of First
Classmen in cadet activities begins to wane. The Second Class anticipate
their First Class camp when the reins of power pass to them, the Yearlings
dream and dream and dream of furlough. Every spring evening during the
half-hour after supper they gather upon Battle Monument to sing their
furlough songs. Little snatches float across the Plain, partly unintelligible,
but from which the words “love” and “girl” and “moon,” sung with greater
emphasis apparently, can be clearly distinguished. Only the “call to
quarters” drags them back to earth, whereupon with a vociferous “Yea!
Furlo-o-o-o!” they break up the meeting and march back to barracks, arm in
arm, singing of the pleasures to come when they will leave the Academy for
two months and return to the bosom of their families.

Not least of the pleasures at West Point is the camaraderie. There are always
plenty of friends to be had, fine manly fellows with clean thoughts,
affectionate and kind. A cadet rarely fully appreciates what this
comradeship means until he is about to graduate. Then he reflects upon his
four years spent in the society of so many fine men, and he feels a poignant

regret at leaving their midst. The recollections of the hardships endured and
overcome together, of the mutual confidences, of the sympathy when
needed, of little sacrifices made for him, fill him with tenderness and
sadness. He finds it hard to say good-bye to the truest friends that he will
ever have.

The last few months, however, are so filled with duties and obligations that
he has few moments for reflection. Before he knows it June and graduation
are upon him. He then attends his own Graduation Ball. Just prior to the last
dance, once again the First Class assembles in the center of the room, gives
its class yell followed by the three cries:

“Never again! Never again! Never again!”

A little lump comes in his throat as the echo dies away. Never again will he
be a cadet at West Point. A yell that has heretofore been most musical has
all of a sudden become most melancholy.

Never again!

CHAPTER XI
STRENGTHENING THE MORAL FIBER

W HEN a new class of cadets reports at West Point, it is composed of
men as diverse in appearance, in points of view, and in character
as the parts of the country from which they come. But after they
have been at the Academy for a couple of years a marked change occurs,
and by the time they are ready to graduate they have undergone a complete
metamorphosis. In some mysterious manner they seem to have been leveled
to a certain standard, like some scraggly hedge that has been scrupulously
trimmed by its painstaking guardian. The fat ones have lost their extra
pounds; the thin ones have made good their deficit; the round-shouldered
have straightened up, and the hollow-chested have filled out. Instead of a
heterogeneous looking lot of men, they give the impression of having been
made from the same die. And then too there is a uniformity about their point
of view. Whereas at entrance their whole thought was colored by the life
from which they came and by what they hoped to be, once enrolled in the
Corps, they quickly and involuntarily have found themselves worshiping
identical ideals—the ideals of Duty, Honor, and Country. They have
discovered at West Point certain standards that have been approved by other
men, and they have gradually adopted them as their own. But the real stamp
of West Point appears in their faces. The imprint is evident wherever a
group of the cadets are gathered together, but it is never so apparent as at
the graduation ceremonies when the cadets individually mount the platform
to receive their diplomas. Then one can see a certain look in the eye and a
certain feeling of strength about the features that is the same. It is the look
of men who have accomplished something and of the strength that comes
from character.

What, you ask, is this leveling influence at the Academy? It comes from
discipline, the discipline of the body, the discipline of the mind, and the
discipline of the soul. It is the one governing factor in the success of West

Point. All three kinds of it begin on the day that the cadet reports for duty,
and continues without interruption during his entire course. The discipline
of the body and the mind is a comparatively simple affair, especially when
there is a willingness on the part of the subject, but the discipline of the soul
is the influence that is hardest to make cadets appreciate. Some people shy
when the word discipline is mentioned; they think that it means to break a
man’s will and to destroy his individuality, but that is not so. The discipline
that I speak of is a process of education whereby a man’s mental attitude is
trained to a certain viewpoint; whereby his actions unconsciously respond
to the correct ethical view of his duty. It is aimed to teach respect for law
and order, to teach truthfulness and honesty, loyalty and obedience. It
inculcates respect for superiors, if not for the man, then for the office that he
holds. It teaches a soldier the sacredness of orders; it is the quality without
which no army is successful.

Under this strong influence of discipline come men from all sections of our
great country and from all classes of society. Viewed exteriorly they are,
upon reporting, as motley a looking lot as could be imagined. An
examination of their interiors would reveal natures and characters of equal
variety. Some come from homes where they have received the most careful
moral nurture; others from environments of vague and lax standards. Side
by side with youths who are models of truth are lads with uncertain ideas of
right and wrong. Among the throng are brilliant boys and stupid ones; well-
educated lads and those whose advantages have been of the most limited
sort; sons of rich men and boys who have known the meaning of want.
From everywhere they come: from the city and from the farm; from the
mountain and from the plain.

It is interesting to dwell for a moment on the following table showing the
sources of the personnel of the cadet body. Herein are listed the occupations
of the parents of the cadets and the number engaged in each, covering a
period of fifty years.

Accountants 3
Agents 62
Architects 5

Artists 4
Auctioneer 1
Auditor 1
Author 1
Baggagemaster 1
Bakers 4
Bankers and bank officers 90
Barbers 4
Bookkeepers 18
Brewers 3
Brokers 40
Builders 2
Butchers 2
Capitalist 1
Chief of police 1
City marshal 1
Clergymen 128
Clerk of House of Representatives 1
Clerks 90
Collectors 4
Commercial travelers 13
Conductors 2
Contractors 38
Cook 1
Cotton buyer 1
County officers 74
Cutlery commissioner 1
Dairyman 2
Dentists 14
Detectives 2
Distiller 1
Dock commissioner 1

Dock master 1
Draftsman 1
Druggists 13
Editors 62
Electroplater 1
Engineers:
Civil 13
Mechanical 10
Locomotive 3
Stationary 1
Enlisted men 4
Express business 2
Farmers and planters 1,149
Fishing master 1
Foreman 1
Gardeners 3
General business 5
Hatter 1
Heads of corporations 10
Hotel keepers 55
Iceman 1
Importer 1
Inspector of buildings 1
Inspectors of factories 2
Inspectors of police 2
Insurance business 38
Inventor 1
Jewelers 3
Journalists 8
Justice of peace 1
Laborers 29
Lawyers and judges 645

Letter carriers 1
Librarians 2
Lithographer 1
Liverymen 15
Lumbermen 20
Manager of brewery 1
Manager of engines and boilers 1
Manager of factory 1
Manager of land company 1
Manufacturers 151
Marble dealer 1
Mechanics 341
Member of city board 1
Member of State Legislature 1
Members of Congress 32
Merchant tailor 1
Merchants 722
Messenger 1
Millers 11
Mining 26
Museum keeper 1
Musician, band leader 1
Musicians 2
Newspaper correspondent 1
Newspaper manager 1
No occupation 191
Nurserymen 6
Officers of the Army 362
Officers of the Navy 59
Officers of volunteers 21
Oil business 2
Overseers 4

Photographers 6
Physicians 367
Pilot 1
Policemen 7
Police justices 2
Politicians 3
Postmasters 5
President of manufacturing company 1
President of steam heating company 1
President of wire mill 1
Presidents of colleges 4
Presidents of insurance companies 3
Printers 12
Professors 27
Proprietor of elevator company 1
Publishers 8
Railroad employees 6
Railroad officers 13
Ranchmen 2
Real estate 37
Restaurant keeper 1
Salesmen 5
Saloonkeeper 1
School teachers 56
Secretaries 14
Ship captains 25
Speculators 10
State officers 27
Steamboatman 1
Steward 1
Stock dealers (cattle) 10
Stock raisers 6

Stocks 1
Superintendent of coal and iron company 1
Superintendent of factory 1
Superintendent of iron work 1
Superintendent of mine 1
Superintendent of prison 1
Superintendent of railroad 1
Superintendents of gas works 2
Superintendents of schools 4
Surveyors 5
Tanners 2
Teacher of garment cutting 1
Teacher of music 1
Teamster 1
Theater manager 1
Undertakers 5
United States civil officers 85
Unknown 39
Wagonmaster 1
Warden of prison 1

It is to the sons of men in this list that West Point applies its discipline in
order to create the type of officer that the Government desires for its Army.
From them must be eliminated the unfit and the unworthy during the
molding process to which they are subjected.

The immediate effect of the application of discipline to this variety of
material is the creation of an ideal democracy. All of the new arrivals are
thrown indiscriminately into the melting pot, and no attention is paid to any
man’s antecedents. The boys of rich and influential parents are not allowed
little life-preservers of wealth, family, and position whereby they might
remain on top, but they must boil away, sometimes on top, sometimes at the
bottom of the pot, rubbing and bumping against boys to whom riches and

influence are strangers. Whether they sink or swim, live or die, survive or
perish, depends on individual effort alone. Men are esteemed at West Point
for what they are and not for what they have. Each man feeling that he has
as good an opportunity to succeed as the other man becomes imbued from
the outset of his cadet career with the spirit of democracy that exists at the
Academy.

From the moment that a cadet enters West Point, his past life, experiences,
advantages, record, disappear into oblivion so far as the authorities and
other cadets are concerned. No reference is ever made to any cadet’s home,
to his connections, to his family, unless he introduces the subject. Once he
becomes a cadet, a new clean sheet of his life is started for him, and
whatever is entered thereon depends solely upon himself. Every man at
West Point has the same chance—the chance of advancement based upon
merit and efficiency and upon nothing else. It makes no difference to the
officers in charge or to the other cadets whether a man’s family is wealthy
or distinguished. As a matter of fact this information is rarely known
because all of the cadets report together; they are totally unknown to those
in charge so that there is no possible way to ascertain anything about the
cadet’s antecedents. They lose their identity completely, and so much so
that the upper-classmen take months to learn their real names, meanwhile
calling them by the generic names, Ducrot, Dumbguard, and Dumbjohn.

The character of the rooms in barracks illustrates most strikingly this
democratic ideal that discipline fosters. The plain and homely furnishings of
each room are identical in pattern, material, and quantity, so that no cadet is
housed better than his fellow. The walls are free from pictures, the windows
from curtains, the floors from rugs. There are no soft easy chairs but only an
old-fashioned wooden one for each man, that is as hard for the rich cadet as
for the poor Mr. Ducrot. Nor are there any cliques that occupy particular
rooms in the barracks. Each company has so many rooms for its members,
and as far as possible the men within the company may choose their
roommates. Their selection is made on mutual attraction and congeniality
solely. Whenever two chaps enjoy each other’s companionship, that
indefinable mingling of mute spirits, they try to room together.

And then again, the cadets are free from the distinctions and the social
barriers that money creates. They are prohibited from receiving any money
from their homes and are not allowed the handling of the pay that they
receive from the Government. Instead, the authorities supply all of their
wants, their food, their clothing, their books, their amusements, so that they
might have no need of cash. In fact there is but one store on the reservation
where they can spend money, and that is a place called “The Boodlers,” a
sort of a general store at the foot of the hill near the gas tank. Here they
may, if out of debt, obtain a permit for two dollars per month, and only
those cadets with permits are allowed even to enter the store.

In this ideal democracy, among the influences that are considered
prejudicial to good order and military discipline are drinking, gambling, and
cigarette smoking. All alcoholic drinks are consequently banished from the
life of the young embryo officer, for he must keep a clear brain in order to
think straight and master his problems. He is permitted only the wholesome
beverages of milk, tea, and coffee that are supplied in the greatest
abundance. Occasionally there is a case of drinking among the cadet body,
but as a vice, intoxication does not exist at the Military Academy. One has
only to look at the healthy ruddy complexions of the cadets to be convinced
of the truth of this statement. Any girl might envy them their skins, whose
brilliancy and transparency would soon disappear if late hours and beer
were permitted. Nor is there any gambling in the Corps, unless the betting
of one’s ice cream on the result of some football game be so considered.
The cadets are not even allowed the use of cards or of any games of chance.
They may not indulge in so harmless a pastime as bridge. Their chief solace
in their free moments must be their pipes of briar, for cigarettes are frowned
upon and regarded as contraband of war, liable to seizure by any Tactical
officer. The weed is confiscated and the cadet receives a report. What
becomes of those confiscated cigarettes has always been a matter of great
speculation. Tactical officers are always under suspicion. I remember one
case where a cadet was caught with three hundred cigarettes in his
possession and told by his officer to turn them in at the Guardhouse. This
order grieved the cadet very much because he felt that perhaps someone
else would enjoy those cherished smokes. He therefore bored a hole in each
one with a pin, before complying with his directions. Soon after turning in
the cigarettes, he was reported for having mutilated them and was made to

walk punishment tours on the Area for many days. The inference was that
some disappointed Tactical officer could not make the cigarettes draw.

The ability to maintain a high state of discipline at West Point is due
partially to the wisdom of placing the instruction of the cadets in the hands
of officers who are themselves graduates of the Academy. The officers have
more prestige with the cadets and they understand better the preparation of
these young men for their future duties than could civilian instructors. They
have to a greater degree than most instructors the prestige of a physical and
moral superiority over their students. They are familiar with the spirit of the
institution and are always on the alert to guard against corrupt influences.
They better understand how to instill the austere virtues that a soldier ought
to have, and how to form a brave and virile heart in their young charges. In
a measure they re-create the man and develop in him the national soul.

The attitude of the cadets themselves, however, toward their discipline is
the real reason for the success of West Point’s efforts to turn out men who
are high-minded and honorable. They are as zealous as the officers over
them in seeing that their associates live up to certain standards. Honor is
their shibboleth, and each new man upon his arrival is instructed in what is
meant by Corps Honor. Upper-classmen give the plebes lectures wherein
they explain the ethics that govern their body, and leave them no room for
doubt regarding the penalties for an infringement of their code. From the
outset of their careers cadets are taught the hatred of a lie, and are made to
understand that only by the most scrupulous regard for the truth, every
detail of it, can they be considered fit to hold their places as cadets and
gentlemen. Any cadet who is found guilty of making a false statement
regarding even the most trifling circumstance is dismissed. If he is caught in
a dishonorable act, he is reported by his fellows to the authorities, or told by
his classmates that his resignation would be favorably received. In order to
do justice to any man accused of breaking the code, the cadets have among
their body a Vigilance Committee that is composed of representatives from
the three upper classes. These men investigate all questionable acts that
ordinarily would not come to the eyes of the authorities, and if they are
satisfied that the man is guilty they report him. For example, at the written
examinations the officers never supervise the cadets as regards their moral
conduct, but frequently leave the room for long periods. If any man should

take advantage of these circumstances to cheat, his act, if seen by a
comrade, is at once reported to either the Vigilance Committee or to the
officers. It is apparent therefore that the honor of the Corps will always
remain unsullied so long as it is left in the hands of the cadets themselves.

A Review for the Chief of the Staff of the Army

This rigid code of discipline to which the cadet is subjected for four years
and the influence of the honor system in the Corps develop in him to a high
degree the sentiment of duty. At West Point duty comes first. The idea is
that when a cadet is given a task to perform he will approach it with a
strength of purpose that never gets weary or tired. It teaches him to make
his resolve so strong that he can listen to the murmurings of the ignorant, to
their sophistry, receive their insults and slanders, conscious that the ideals
for which he stands will eventually triumph. It is the sentiment that will
sustain him not only in time of war, for then he has the sympathy of the
people, but in time of peace when the average layman who does not
understand the character of his work condemns it as an activity that
produces nothing.

The result of four years’ immersion in the atmosphere at West Point is the
molding of the cadet’s character. When he entered the Academy he was just

a boy, fresh from the hands of his parents and still malleable, but when his
course has been completed under the painstaking care of his foster mother,
his standards have been crystallized and he has developed into a man of
courage, intellect, and honor. And when graduation day arrives, and West
Point hands each man his diploma, with it she gives her stamp of approval
and acknowledges her willingness to entrust to his keeping the cherished
traditions of the Military Academy.

CHAPTER XII
SPIRITUAL INFLUENCES

C ADETS love to lay aside the restrictions of their everyday routine
life, put on their athletic uniforms and most care-free manners, and
wander among the beautiful hills that are all around West Point. They
like to enjoy the emotions that spring from a close communion with Nature,
both in the winter, when the afternoons are short and the valleys quickly fill
up with purple lights, and in the summer, when the country is extravagantly
clothed in luxuriant foliage. If the day of the cadet has been warped by all
sorts of petty annoyances, all that he has to do is to climb to Redoubt No. 4
or go to Fort Putnam, and feast his eyes upon a scene of unsurpassing
beauty in order to have his cramped soul straightened out and to be lifted
above his material surroundings. What greater pleasure does his life afford
than to lie in the warm spring sunshine of Fort Putnam and drink in the
panorama below? All of the cares of his daily existence drop away under
the spell of a mysterious kind of an influence that fills his being and stirs his
innate nobility. He is thankful that he is privileged to live in such a
wonderful and beautiful place. Its effect is like that of some drug that
soothes and calms, that gives him a kindly feeling toward humanity, and
that makes him glad to be alive. On all sides he is affected by Nature who
has done her best to develop all of his spirituality and to awaken his finer
sensibilities. Wherever he wanders or wherever the eye roves, there is a
scene to admire, almost reverentially. No less appealing than the hills is the
river with its many moods.

And there are the buildings whose beauty likewise exerts a subtle spiritual
influence and acts as a stimulant to the development of the cadet’s æsthetic
tastes. His Barracks, his Recitation Halls, his Riding Academy, his
Gymnasium, his Mess Hall, and especially his Chapel, built as they all are
from the natural rock of West Point’s hills, seem to grow right out of their
surroundings as if God planted them there as a part of His natural design.

Their presence is ever a reminder to the cadet that he has consecrated his
life to an ideal, for on their exteriors are carved in conspicuous places the
shields of his Alma Mater and of his country, bearing their motto of duty
and honor. The walls of the interiors are hung with the portraits of famous
sons of the Academy, whose devotion to their country and to an ideal serves
as an inspiration to the cadet and makes him sensible to the value of moral
qualities.

Hovering over both the grounds and the buildings is the influence of the
flag. As a cadet sees it floating from its tall white staff, somehow it has
come to have a different meaning from the days when he was a care-free
civilian. It seems to him to possess a personality of which he never before
was aware. He feels for it a real reverence, because he is conscious of being
in the presence of something big, as if beholding the whole power of a
nation. He sees in it the emblem of the country’s sovereignty and the
symbol to which he has pledged his life’s service. Mingled with his feeling
of reverence is his personal affection. Day after day he has watched it
silhouetted against the sky and has felt the thrill of patriotism, when it was
being lowered at retreat to the accompaniment of The Star Spangled
Banner.

It is not to the beauty of Nature and to the flag alone that the cadet must
turn for his spiritual refreshment. The Chaplain, a man with a fine grip upon
the Corps, gathers together in classes those cadets who desire to come, and
explains to them the word of God. His Bible classes today are a
continuation of the famous classes that were held at West Point for so many
years by Miss Anna Warner. During the summer encampment, she taught
her boys in the old chapel after the morning services, where for one hour
the cadets received from her sainted lips an interpretation of the Scriptures,
and were elevated by contact with her noble character. I can see her before
me now, her quaint silk dress, her small delicate body, her ethereal face
framed in the neatest and whitest of curls that peeped from out of her
charming poke bonnet. Her whole presence radiated goodness and
spirituality. Prior to the dismissal of the class she would regularly present to
each cadet a fragrant little bouquet of flowers that she had that morning
gathered from her modest garden, and arranged into the daintiest of
nosegays. These few flowers were simple, like the donor, but they brought

into the life of the recipient a spiritual perfume that awakened his memories
and took him back home to rose-scented gardens and neat graveled paths
where another sainted woman was praying for the welfare of his soul. So he
took the little nosegay back to camp with him and put it carefully in his
tumblerful of water alongside of his tent, as a reminder of what he should
be, and as a check on ignoble impulses. Here and there in his own company
streets, he would see his comrades’ bouquets, little dashes of color, the red
of the petunia, the blue of the cornflower, the yellow of the marigold, and as
they caught his eye they seemed to be a part of Miss Warner still exerting
her inspiring influence.

It is regrettable that the cadets of the future will never have the good fortune
to know her, for last year (1916) she passed to her reward after ninety years
in the service of God. Although it is rare that anyone outside the Academy
is buried in the cemetery at West Point, her body was laid to rest there, near
the bluff that overlooks the Hudson and in sight of her home on
Constitution Island across the river, that a short time before her death she
generously gave to the Government. To the Corps of Cadets that she loved,
she willed a magnificent original portrait of Washington by Gilbert Stuart,
that now hangs in the library.

Her Bible class still goes on. Every Sunday when the weather is fair the
Chaplain takes the cadets over to Constitution Island, where, under the trees
that Miss Warner loved so well, he continues her work. If Miss Warner sees
her “boys” studying the word of God in the shadow of the old
Revolutionary House, hallowed by her presence, what pleasure she must
feel!

If, however, neither the beauties of Nature nor the interest of the Bible class
appeal to the cadet, he cannot help having his spiritual self stirred by the
impressive service at the Cadet Chapel. All cadets are required to attend
divine service. The large majority go to the Cadet Chapel because it is for
all denominations, the building never having been consecrated to any
particular faith, but about ten per cent. of the cadets attend service at the
Catholic Chapel.

The service at the Cadet Chapel is so impressive and interesting that the
majority of the cadets look forward with pleasure to Sunday morning. I

suppose that all former cadets will smile upon reading this statement, when
they remember the reluctance with which they donned their dress coats and
belts for the weekly service, at which they had difficulty in keeping awake
while the lessons and sermon were being read. But times have changed
since then, due principally to the atmosphere of the new Chapel and the
music of its splendid organ. Sir Roger de Coverly would rejoice to behold
so model a congregation and to hear such excellent singing.

The interior of the Chapel is worthy of its beautiful service. “Storied
windows richly dight” rise majestically to the high Gothic roof and throw
upon the gray walls a myriad of delicate lights, pale blues and pinks,
saffrons, and deep purples. Two parallel rows of silk flags, the scarlet of the
artillery, the somber blue of the infantry, and the gold of the cavalry, hang
from the long covered galleries on either side of the nave. The deep rich
shades of the magnificent memorial window shroud the chancel in a “dim
religious light.” Nor is the service lacking in military pomp. Company after
company of gray-clad cadets, their brass buttons shining, file briskly into
the Chapel. The tramping of hundreds of pairs of feet up the aisle and the
rattling of their buttons against the pews as they take their seats reverberate
through the vast hall. The officers, in their uniforms, and their families
assemble in the seats along the sides.

The first note from the organ announces the commencement of the service.
The choir of over a hundred voices, singing the processional hymn, walk
two by two in slow and solemn order up the aisle to their places in the
stalls. A wave of music sweeps through the church as the procession moves
forward. Last of all comes the Chaplain, immaculate in fresh linen surplice,
and conspicuous by his distinguished bearing.

The service proceeds. The Chaplain advances to the reading desk and reads
the lessons for the day. Inspiring hymns are then sung, followed by an
eloquent sermon upon subjects that touch the daily lives of the cadets. Once
again the celebrated organ peals forth, and during the offertory casts with its
music a spell over the devout congregation. Two stalwart cadet officers then
march quickly up the aisle to the chancel where awaits the Chaplain to
receive the offerings. The organ’s music fills the church anew and the hall

resounds to hundreds of strong voices singing “Praise Father, Son, and Holy
Ghost,” followed immediately by the patriotic hymn,

My Country ’tis of thee,
Sweet Land of Liberty,
Of thee I sing—
Land where our Fathers died,
Land of the Pilgrims’ pride,
From every mountain side
Let Freedom ring!

The Chaplain standing upon the steps of the altar pronounces the solemn
benediction, which is scarcely concluded when the choir begins to sing the
“Amen” to the accompaniment of Holy Grail motif from Parsifal. Faintly at
first the singing arises from the stalls, then stronger and stronger, then
diminishing in volume until it dies away with a final “Amen.”

Besides the service at the Chapel there is another service held on Sundays.
It is the Y. M. C. A., a purely religious body among the cadets and not as in
the cities a sort of club house where a swimming pool, assembly rooms, and
gymnasium are the main attractions. These advantages are already a part of
West Point’s equipment. The Y. M. C. A. at the Academy meets every
Sunday evening after supper in a hall over one of the sally-ports, and here
after a few prayers, a speaker makes a short address. On week days the hall
is frequented by cadets only to read the papers or to play the victrola, and in
Lent the Chaplain holds afternoon services. Formerly the Chaplain held
these prayers immediately after breakfast, but once a cadet captain, wishing
to remind the cadets that the services would take place immediately after
the dismissal of the Battalion, mixed up his verbs and announced very
emphatically “cadets are cautioned about the ten-minute service in the Y.
M. C. A.”! The Sunday service, however, is the reason for the existence of
the organization. The prayers are not long and the addresses sometimes
most interesting, especially when they relate to the work that the cadet will
have to do as an officer. The meetings are usually terminated when the
bugler blows the evening call to quarters in the sally-port under the hall. Of
all the sounds at West Point, Sunday evening “call to quarters” is the most

doleful and depressing. It means that after the break of Saturday and
Sunday, the cadet must once more turn to his books and dig out the
problems for Monday. When he hears its melancholy, long-drawn-out notes,
he has the Sunday evening feeling, which is only a degree more cheerful
than the blue Monday feeling, and he reluctantly goes back to his room to
begin anew the weekly cycle.

The cadet is really never quite free from the spiritual influences of the
Academy. Nature, his Chapel, traditions, precept, and example so arouse
and sharpen his insight into things and into himself that his day gradually
assumes a new background. These are the influences that, when he is an
officer, draw him back to his Alma Mater and make him speak of it always
with undisguised affection.

CHAPTER XIII
THE SPIRIT OF WEST POINT

O N a fine bright morning about the middle of June, every year, the
Corps of Cadets wakes up to find that Battle Monument and vicinity
have been completely transformed. The Quartermaster’s men have
canopied a portion of the monument’s platform with beautiful brand-new
flags, and placed under them comfortable wicker chairs for the President,
the Secretary of War, the various generals, and other dignitaries who usually
honor West Point with their presence on this graduation day. On the front
edge of the platform is a rostrum, flag bedecked, for the speaker of the
occasion, and spread over the green lawn are rows and rows of seats that
await the coming of the cadets. Promptly at ten o’clock, the Corps swings
across the parade ground to take its place for the final ceremonies that mark
the separation of another class from its midst.

This is the day of days in the life of each man of the graduation class. His
four years are at last completed and he is about to be given the great prize
for which he has so ardently striven—a commission in the Army. As he
takes his seat in front of the platform, he is a little nervous in spite of the
joy at having achieved his ambition. He realizes that he is about to sever the
ties that have held him fast for the last four years and to bid farewell to a
portion of his life that is finished. A little tug comes at his heart-strings but
it quickly vanishes as he listens to the eloquent words of the chief speaker,
oftentimes the President, unfolding to his receptive imagination the duties
and honors that await him in his new life as an officer. And when the
President reminds him of West Point, of her traditions, of the advantages
that he has been lovingly given, and of what is expected of him in the Army,
there comes to his eyes a moisture from pride and gratitude. Into his mind
rapidly crowd a thousand and one recollections of his associations at the
Academy. He knows now that he must leave the Corps behind, that he must

renounce the delightful camaraderie of its members, and give up the
beautiful surroundings wherein he has grown in body, mind, and soul.

It is true that he can no longer wear the “gray,” or take away with him his
friends, or the buildings, but he does take away with him something that is
finer than all of these. One can see it in his face and in his bearing. He goes
forth, his heart armed with the triple brass of Duty, Honor, Country, and his
soul filled with the Spirit of West Point. All of his nature has been elevated
and benefited by this indefinable essence. It forever connects him with
hundreds of other men in all parts of our country and identifies him with an
institution whose very name, West Point, no matter where seen or heard,
thrills him with pleasure. This name connotes the details of the most
impressionable period of his life. Even the words themselves seem to have a
distinction and personality that no other words possess. They are flavored
with romance and make one think of something fresh and crisp and clean,
something almost hallowed. They are themselves clothed with the spirit of
the place under whose influence and power he will forever remain.

He leaves the Academy to join the great fraternity of West Pointers in the
Service, animated by the same spirit. With them, he is this year (1917)
called upon by the President to train for war a large army of his fellow
citizens, and prepare them to meet an enemy schooled in the art of war by
disciplined leaders. West Point sends him forth to this task, rich in
knowledge. His Alma Mater is confident that he will train these men of the
new Army in the fundamentals of their profession and that he will inspire
them with his ideals of courage and of honor, and imbue them with the
Spirit of West Point.

Photo White Studio

Graduation—President Wilson Addressing the Graduating Class
“We’ll bid farewell to Cadet grey and don the Army blue”

In the training of the National Army, he will have all sorts of men under his
command, but the spirit of the Academy will make him patient and kind
with the stupid, lend a hand to the weak, give a word of cheer to the down-
hearted (there will be plenty of them), and instill into all the ideal of duty.
The kind of discipline that he himself received at West Point will be theirs.
He will teach them to bear uncomplainingly their burdens, to be loyal and
obedient, to care for their health, and to march and to fight with a spirit that
knows not weariness or depression. Then when these men shall be
sufficiently trained, he will go with them to France, in the wake of the first
division of Regulars led by a gallant West Pointer, Major-General John J.
Pershing. Here he will appreciate as never before the value of a great moral
force like the spirit of West Point. It will aid him in overcoming the
obstacles in his path and in those of his men, especially when the heroics of
war and the novelty of being abroad have ceased to interest them, and they
find themselves in the trenches in No Man’s Land. They will be drenched
by the rain and burnt by the sun; they will have to endure the vermin, the

mud, and the dust. They will be driven nearly mad by the shrieking and
bursting of the shells, they will see their comrades killed and wounded, and
perhaps they too will suffer the same fate, but they will not flinch; because
he who leads them will have given them something of his spirit—a part of
himself that West Point made. He must be the prop upon which they may
lean, if need be, and his spirit the reservoir upon which they may draw for
refreshment. And should he be called upon to pay the supreme sacrifice, he
will leave them the Spirit of West Point to carry them to victory, while he
goes to join the ghostly assemblage of his fellow West Pointers, standing
bareheaded to salute him, as he has stood many times in the presence of the
living Corps.

The Corps! Bareheaded salute it,
With eyes up, thanking our God
That we of the Corps are treading,
Where they of the Corps have trod—
They are here in ghostly assemblage,
The men of the Corps long dead,
And our hearts are standing attention,
While we wait for their passing tread.

We, sons of today, we salute you,
You sons of its earlier day,
We follow, close order behind you
Where you have pointed the way;
The long gray line of us stretches
Through the years of a century told,
And the last man feels to his marrow
The grip of your far-off hold.

Grip hands with us now, though we see not,
Grip hands with us, strengthen our hearts,
As the long line stiffens and straightens,
With the thrill that your presence imparts.
Grip hands, though it be from the shadows,
While we swear, as you did of yore,
Or living or dying to honor

The Corps, and the Corps, and the Corps.

APPENDIX

(From the Official Register of the United States Military
Academy—1916)

WAR DEPARTMENT

Information Relative to the Appointment and Admission
of Cadets to the United States
Military Academy

(1916 Edition. Revised Annually.)

[Communications relating to matters connected with the Military
Academy should be addressed to The Adjutant General
of the Army, Washington, D. C.]

THE CORPS OF CADETS

The Act of Congress approved May 4, 1916, provides as follows:

“That the Corps of Cadets at the United States Military Academy shall
hereafter consist of two for each Congressional district, two from each
Territory, four from the District of Columbia, two from natives of Porto
Rico, four from each State at large, and eighty from the United States at
large, twenty of whom shall be selected from among the honor graduates of
educational institutions having officers of the Regular Army detailed as
professors of military science and tactics under existing law or any law
hereafter enacted for the detail of officers of the Regular Army to such

institutions, and which institutions are designated as ’honor schools’ upon
the determination of their relative standing at the last preceding annual
inspection regularly made by the War Department. They shall be appointed
by the President and shall, with the exception of the eighty appointed from
the United States at large, be actual residents of the Congressional or
Territorial district, or of the District of Columbia, or of the island of Porto
Rico, or of the States, respectively, from which they purport to be
appointed: Provided, That so much of the Act of Congress approved March
fourth, nineteen hundred and fifteen (Thirty-eighth Statutes at Large, page
eleven hundred and twenty-eight), as provides for the admission of a
successor to any cadet who shall have finished three years of his course at
the academy be, and the same is hereby, repealed: Provided further: That
the appointment of each member of the present Corps of Cadets is validated
and confirmed.

“Sec. 2. That the President is hereby authorized to appoint cadets to the
United States Military Academy from among enlisted men in number as
nearly equal as practicable of the Regular Army and the National Guard
between the ages of nineteen and twenty-two years who have served as
enlisted men not less than one year, to be selected under such regulations as
the President may prescribe: Provided, That the total number so selected
shall not exceed one hundred and eighty at any one time.

“Sec. 3. That, under such regulations as the President shall prescribe, the
increase in the number of cadets provided for by this Act shall be divided
into four annual increments, which shall be as nearly equal as practicable
and be equitably distributed among the sources from which appointments
are authorized.”

Annual Increments.—States at large, 21; Congressional districts, 92;
Alaska, District of Columbia, Hawaii and Porto Rico, combined, 1 each
year to the source longest without an appointment, and, when the periods
are equal, the choice to be by lot; Honor Schools, 5; Regular Army, 23 in
1916, 22 in 1917, 23 in 1918, and 22 in 1919; National Guard, 22 in 1916,
23 in 1917, 22 in 1918, and 23 in 1919.

APPOINTMENTS

How Made.—The appointments from a Congressional district are made
upon the recommendation of the Representative in Congress from that
district, and those from a State at large upon the recommendations of the
Senators of the State. Similarly, the appointments from a Territory are made
upon the recommendation of the Delegate in Congress. The appointments
from the District of Columbia are made upon the recommendation of the
Commissioners of the District. Each person appointed must be an actual
resident of the State, District, or Territory from which the appointment is
made.

The appointments from the United States at large are made by the President
of the United States upon his own selection. The cadets from Porto Rico,
who must be natives of that island, are appointed by the President on the
recommendation of the Resident Commissioner.

The appointments from among the honor graduates of educational
institutions designated as “honor schools” will be made upon the
recommendation of the heads of the respective schools.

The appointments from among the enlisted men of the National Guard will
be made upon the recommendation of the Governors of the respective
States and Territories.

The appointments from among the enlisted men of the regular army will be
made upon the recommendation of the Commanding Generals of the
Territorial Departments.

The Secretary of War is authorized to permit not exceeding four Filipinos,
to be designated, one for each class, by the Governor General of the
Philippine Islands, to receive instruction at the United States Military
Academy at West Point: Provided, That the Filipinos undergoing
instruction, shall receive the same pay, allowances, and emoluments as are
authorized by law for cadets at the Military Academy appointed from the
United States, to be paid out of the same appropriations: And provided
further, That said Filipinos undergoing instruction on graduation shall be
eligible only to commissions in the Philippine Scouts. And the provisions of

section 1321, Revised Statutes, are modified in the case of Filipinos
undergoing instruction, so as to require them to engage to serve for eight
years, unless sooner discharged, in the Philippine Scouts.

Date of Appointments.—Appointments are required by law to be made
one year in advance of the date of admission, except in cases where, by
reason of death or other cause, a vacancy occurs which cannot be provided
for by such appointment in advance. These vacancies are filled in time for
the next examination.

Candidates.—For each vacancy from a State at large, or Congressional or
Territorial district, three candidates should be nominated, one of the
candidates to be named as principal, one as first alternate, and one as
second alternate. The first alternate, if qualified, will be admitted in the
event of failure of the principal; the second alternate, if qualified, will be
admitted in the event of the failure of the principal and the first alternate.

For vacancies in the cadetships allotted to the honor graduates of the “honor
schools,” one candidate may be nominated each year before September 1st
from each school. In case the total number of candidates so nominated is
not equal to three times the number of vacancies, the War Department will
assign additional appointments among the schools to complete this total.

For vacancies in the cadetships allotted to the enlisted men of the National
Guard, the candidates will be apportioned as near as practicable among the
States, Districts, and Territories according to their enlisted strength. With
the exception of the candidates from the District of Columbia, they will be
selected by the Governors from successful competitors in a preliminary
examination held between January 1st and January 15th of each year, such
examination to be of a scope and nature similar to the regular examination
for entrance to the United States Military Academy. The candidates from
the National Guard of the District of Columbia will be similarly selected by
the Commanding General of that organization.

The candidates nominated for the cadetships allotted to the enlisted men of
the regular army shall not exceed three times the number of existing
vacancies and shall be equitably distributed among the Territorial
Departments by the War Department. If the number of applications in any

Department exceed the share allotted to it by the War Department, the
candidates in such Department will be chosen from the successful
competitors in a preliminary examination held between January 1st and
January 15th, such examination to be of a scope and nature similar to the
regular examination for entrance to the United States Military Academy.6

Each candidate designated to take the regular examination for admission to
the United States Military Academy will receive from the War Department a
letter of appointment, and he must appear for examination at the time and
place designated therein.7

Fitness for admission will be determined as prescribed in the Regulations,
United States Military Academy.

REGULAR EXAMINATION OF CANDIDATES

Examinations of candidates will be competitive in the following classes,
and will be the regular examination for entrance to the United States
Military Academy:

(1) Candidates from the United States at Large, other than honor graduates
of honor schools.

(2) Candidates from the United States at Large, who are honor graduates of
honor schools.

(3) Candidates from the enlisted men of the National Guard.

(4) Candidates from the enlisted men of the Regular Army.

The Filipino candidates selected for appointment, unless otherwise notified
by the War Department, shall appear for mental and physical examination
on the second Tuesday in January of each year before a board of Army
officers to be convened at such place in the Philippine Islands as the
commanding general of the Philippine Department may designate.

Admission by Examinations.—On the third Tuesday in March of each
year candidates selected for appointment shall appear for mental and
physical examination before boards of Army officers to be convened at such
places as the War Department may designate.

Each candidate must show by examination that he is well versed in algebra,
to include quadratic equations and progressions, and in plane geometry,
English grammar, composition and literature, descriptive and physical
geography, and general and United States history, as explained in the
circular of notification.

Admission by Certificate.—The Academic Board will consider and may
accept in lieu of the regular mental examination:

(1) A properly attested certificate (Form I) that the candidate is a regularly
enrolled student in good standing without condition in a university, college,
or technical school accredited by the United States Military Academy,
provided that the entrance requirements of the course he is pursuing require
proficiency in subjects amounting to not less than 14 units of the list given
below.

If attendance at college extends over a semester, a full record of academic
work at the college, giving subjects taken and grades attained in each, must
accompany the certificate; if attendance at college extends over less than a
semester and the candidate was admitted to college by certificate, a
certificate (Form II) from the preparatory school giving a full record of
studies taken and grades attained must accompany the college certificate. If
a scrutiny of the certificate submitted shows low grades, the certificate will
be rejected.

A certificate indicating enrollment in or admission to an institution at any
other time than that specified in the college register for regular admission or
enrollment will be not accepted.

(2) A properly attested certificate (Form II) that the candidate has graduated
from a preparatory school or public high school accredited by the United
States Military Academy, provided that he has in his school work shown

proficiency in subjects amounting to not less than 14 units of the list given
below.

If a scrutiny of the certificate submitted shows evidence of low grades or of
graduation at an irregular date, the certificate will be rejected.

(3) A properly attested certificate (Form III) from the College Entrance
Examination Board that the candidate has shown proficiency in the
examinations set by the board in subjects amounting to 14 units from the
list given below. If a scrutiny of the certificate submitted shows low grades,
the certificate will be rejected.

The list of subjects and the corresponding weights in units is as follows:

(a) REQUIRED.

Every certificate must show evidence of proficiency in the following
subjects.

Units.
Mathematics, A1 1
Mathematics, A2 ½
Mathematics, C 1
English, A 2
English, B 1
History, A }
History, B }
any two 2
History, C }
History, D }
7½

(b) OPTIONAL.

The remaining 6½ units may be supplied from among the following
subjects, and no others.

Units.
Mathematics, B ½
Mathematics, D ½
Mathematics, E ½
Mathematics, F ½
History, A } 1
History, B } 1
Any not submitted among required subjects
History, C } 1
History, D } 1
Latin, 1 1
Latin, 2 1
Latin, 3 2
Latin, 4 1
Latin, 5 1
Greek, A1 ½
Greek, A2 ½
Greek, B 1
Greek, C 1
Greek, F 1
French, A 2
French, B 1
Either one but not both
French, BC 2
German, A 2
German, B 1
Either one but not both
German, BC 2
Spanish 2