compete with the white race in the acquisition of knowledge and property. But they have examples of notable achievements in their own ranks which should convince them that they have not the slightest reason to despair of success. The doors stand wide open, from the plantation to the National Capitol, and every American citizen can, if he will, attain worthy recognition.”
And thus, ere we had entered upon our new duties, were we forewarned of the kind of treatment we should expect. To be “sent to Coventry,” “to be let severely alone,” are indeed terrible dooms, but we cared naught for them. “To be let alone” was what we wished. To be left to our own resources for study and improvement, for enjoyment in whatever way we chose to seek it, was what we desired. We cared not for social recognition. We did not expect it, nor were we disappointed in not getting it. We would not seek it. We would not obtrude ourselves upon them. We would not accept recognition unless it was made willingly. We would be of them at least independent. We would mark out for ourselves a uniform course of conduct and follow it rigidly. These were our resolutions. So long as we were in the right we knew we should be recognized by those whose views were not limited or bound by such narrow confines as prejudice and caste, whether they were at West Point or elsewhere. Confident that right on our own part would secure us just treatment from others, that “if we but prove ourselves possessed of some good qualities” we could find friends among both faculty and students.
I came to West Point, notwithstanding I had heard so much about the Academy well fit to dishearten and keep one away. And then, too, at the time I had no object in seeking the appointment other than to gratify an ordinary ambition. Several friends were opposed to my accepting it, and even persuaded me, or rather attempted to persuade me, to give up the idea altogether. I was inexorable. I had set my mind upon West Point, and no amount of persuasion, and no number of harrowing narratives of bad treatment, could have induced me to relinquish the object I had in view. But I was right. The work I chose, and from which I could not flinch without dishonor, proved far more important than either my friends or myself at first thought it would be.
Let me not, however, anticipate. Of this importance more anon.
CHAPTER IV.
CANT TERMS, ETC.
AS a narrative of this description is very apt to be dry and uninteresting, I have thought it possible to remove in a measure this objection by using as often as convenient the cant lingo of the corps. A vocabulary which shall contain it all, or nearly all, becomes necessary. I have taken great care to make it as full as possible, and at the same time as intelligible as possible.
There are a few cant words and expressions which are directly personal, and in many cases self-explanatory. They are for such reasons omitted.
“Animal,” “animile,” “beast,” “reptile.”– Synonymous terms applied to candidates for admission into the Academy.
“Plebe.”–A candidate after admission, a new cadet. After the candidates are examined and the proficient ones admitted, these latter are known officially as “new cadets,” but in the cant vernacular of the corps they are dubbed “plebes,” and they retain this designation till the candidates of the next year report. They are then called “yearlings,” a title applied usually to them in camp only. After the encampment they become “furloughmen” until they return from furlough in August of the following year. They then are “second-classmen,” and are so officially and à la cadet throughout the year. From this time till they graduate they are known as the “graduating class,” so that, except the second class, each class has its own peculiar cant designation.
Candidates generally report in May–about the 20th –and during July and August are in camp. This is their “plebe camp.” The next is their, “yearling camp.” During the next, they are en congé, and the next and last is their “first-class camp.” Of “plebe camp,” “yearling camp,” and “first-class camp,” more anon.
“Rapid.”–A “plebe” is said to be “rapid” when he shows a disposition to resist hazing, or to “bone familiarity” with older cadets–i.e., upper classmen.
“Sep.”–A cadet who reported for admission in September.
“Fins.”–A term applied to the hands generally, of course to the hands of “plebes.”
“Prelim.”–A preliminary examination.
“Pred.”–A predecessor.
“Pony.”–A key, a corrigé.
“To bone.”–To study, to endeavor to do well in any particular; for instance, to “bone demerits” is to strive to get as few as possible.
“To bone popularity.”–This alludes to a habit practised, especially by, “yearlings” while in camp, and is equivalent to our every-day expression in civil life, viz., “to get in with.”
“To bugle it.”–To avoid a recitation. To avoid a recitation is an act seldom done by any cadet. It is in fact standing at the board during the whole time of recitation without turning around, and thus making known a readiness to recite. At the Academy a bugle takes the place of the bell in civil schools. When the bugle is blown those sections at recitation are dismissed, and others come in. Now, if one faces the board till the bugle blows, there is not then enough time for him to recite, and he is said to have “bugled it.” Some instructors will call on any one who shows a disposition to do so, and will require him to tell what he knows about his subject.
“Busted,” “broken.”–These words apply only to cadet officers who are reduced to ranks.
“A cold case.”–A sure thing, a foregone conclusion.
To “get chevrons.”–To receive an appointment in the battalion organization. Each year, on the day the graduates receive their diplomas, and just after– possibly just before–they are relieved from further duty at the Academy, the order fixing the appointments for the next year is read, and those of the year previous revoked. It has been customary to appoint the officers, captains, and lieutenants from the first class, the sergeants from the second, and the corporals from the third. This custom has at times, and for reasons, been departed from, and the officers chosen as seemed best.
For any offence of a grave nature, any one who has chevrons is liable to lose them, or, in other words, to be reduced to ranks.
“A cit.”–Any citizen.
“To crawl over.”–To haze, generally in the severest manner possible.
“A chapel.”–An attendance at church.
“To curse out.”–To reprimand, to reprove, and also simply to interview. This expression does not by any means imply the use of oaths.
“To cut,” “To cut cold.”–To avoid, to ostracize.
“Debauch.”–Any ceremony or any thing unusual. It may be a pleasant chat, a drill, or any thing that is out of the usual routine.
“To drive a squad.”–To march it.
“Dropped.”–Not promoted.
“To eat up.”–See “To crawl over.”
“Exaggerations.”–It is a habit of the cadets to exaggerate on certain occasions, and especially when policing. “A log of wood,” “a saw-mill,” “a forest,” and kindred expressions, are applied to any fragment of wood of any description that may be lying about. A feather is “a pillow;” a straw, “a broom factory;” a pin, an “iron foundry;” a cotton string, “a cotton factory;” and I have known a “plebe” to be told to “get up that sugar refinery,” which “refinery” was a cube of sugar crushed by some one treading upon it.
Any thing–whatever it may be–which must be policed, is usually known by some word or term suggested by its use or the method or the place of its manufacture.
“To find.”–To declare deficient in studies or discipline.
An “extra” is an extra tour of guard duty given as punishment. Cadets on “extra” are equipped as for parade, and walk in the area of Cadet Barracks from two o’clock until retreat, or from two to five hours, on Saturday or other days of the week. An “extra” is sometimes called a “Saturday Punishment.”
“A fem,” “femme.”–Any female person.
“A file.”–Any male person.
“Fessed,” “fessed cold,” “fessed frigid,” “fessed out,” and “fessed through.”–Made a bad recitation, failed.
“To get off.”–To perpetrate.
“A gag,” “Grin,” “Grind.”–Something witty, a repartee.
“To hive.”–To detect, used in a good and bad sense. Also to take, to steal.
“To hoop up.”–To hasten, to hurry.
“H. M. P.”–Hop manager’s privileges.
“A keen.”–See “Gag,” etc.
“To leap on.”–See “To crawl over.”
“Made.”–Given an appointment, given chevrons as an officer in the battalion organization.
“A make.”–Such an appointment.
“Maxed.”–Made a thorough recitation.
“Ath.”–The last one.
“To pile in.”–To retire.
“To pink.”–To report for any offence.
“To plant.”–To bury with military honors.
“To police one’s self.”–To bathe.
“To pot.”–“To pink,” which see.
“Prof.”–Professor.
“To put in.”–To submit in writing.
“To put into the battalion.”–To assign to a company, as in case of new cadets.
“Ragged,” “ragged out.”–Made a good recitation.
“Reveilles.”–Old shoes, easy and comfortable, worn to reveille roll-call.
“Reekless, ricochet.”–Careless, indifferent.
“To run it.”–To do any thing forbidden. To risk.
“To run it on.”–To impose upon.
“Shout.”–Excellent, i.e., will create much comment and praise.
“Sketch-house.”–The Drawing Academy.
“To skin.”–See “To pink” (most common).
“To be spooney.”–To be gallant.
“To spoon.”–To be attentive to ladies.
“A spoon.”–A sweetheart.
“Shungudgeon.”–A stew.
“Supe.”–Superintendent.
“To step out.”–See “To hoop up.”
“Topog.”–A topographical drawing.
“To turn in.”–To repair to one’s quarters.
“To be sent in.”–To order any thing sent in.
“To turn out.”–To come out, or send out.
“To be white,” “To treat white.”–To be polite, courteous, and gentlemanly.
“To wheaten.”–To be excused by surgeon.
“To yank.”–To seize upon violently.
“O. G. P.”–Old guard privileges.
“Chem.”–Chemistry.
“Math.”–Mathematics.
“Phil.”–Philosophy.
“Rocks.”–Mineralogy.
“Wigwag.”–Signalling.
“To get out of.”–To shun, to shirk.
“Thing.”–A “plebe.”
“To extinguish.”–To distinguish.
“To go for.”–To haze.
“House.”–Room, quarters.
“To freeze to.”–To hold firmly.
“To wipe out.”–To destroy.
“Limbo.”–Confinement.
“Solemncholy.”–Sad, dejected.
“Plebeskin.”–A rubber overcoat issued to new cadets.
“Turnbacks.”–Cadets turned back to a lower class.
“Div,” “subdiv.”–Division, subdivision.
“Devils.”–Fellows familiarly.
“Tab.”–Tabular system of French.
“To celebrate.”–To do.
“A stayback.”–A graduate detained at graduation to instruct the new cadets.*
*When the cadets are in barracks, the officer of the guard on Sundays either has or assumes authority to detain from church, for any emergency that might arise, one or two or more members of his guard, in addition to those on post on duty. Cadets so detained are called “staybacks.
“Scratch day.”–A day when lessons are hard or numerous.
“Gum game.”–A joke.
“To fudge.”–To copy.
BENNY HAVENS O.
[A number of cadets sitting or lounging about the room. One at table pouring out the drinks. As soon as he is done he takes up his own glass, and says to the others, “Come, fellows,” and then all together standing:]
–Stand up in a row,
For sentimental drinking we’re going for to go; In the army there’s sobriety, promotion’s very slow, So we’ll cheer our hearts with choruses of Benny Havens’ O.
Of Benny Havens’ O, of Benny Havens’ O, We’ll cheer our hearts with choruses of Benny Havens’ O.
When you and I and Benny, and General Jackson too, Are brought before the final Board our course of life t’ review,
May we never “fess” on any point, but then be told to go
To join the army of the blest at Benny Havens’ O. At Benny Havens’ O, at Benny Havens’ O,
To join the army of the blest at Benny Havens’ O.
To the ladies of the army let our bumpers ever flow, Companions of our exile, our shield ‘gainst every woe, May they see their husbands generals with double pay to show,
And indulge in reminiscences of Benny Havens’ O. Of Benny Havens O, of Benny Havens’ O,
And indulge in reminiscences of Benny Havens’ O.
‘Tis said by commentators, in the land where we must go
We follow the same handicraft we followed here below;
If this be true philosophy (the sexton, he says no), What days of dance and song we’ll have at Benny Havens’ O.
At Benny Havens’ O, at Benny Havens’ O, What days of dance and song we’ll have at Benny Havens’ O!
To the ladies of the Empire State, whose hearts and albums too
Bear sad remembrance of the wrongs we stripling soldiers do,
We bid you all a kind farewell, the best recompense we know–
Our loves and rhymings had their source at Benny Havens’ O.
At Benny Havens’ O, at Benny Havens’ O, Our loves and rhymings had their source at Benny Havens’ O.
[Then, with due solemnity, every head uncovered and bowed low, they sing:]
There comes a voice from Florida, from Tampa’s lonely shore;
It is the wail of gallant men, O’Brien is no more; In the land of sun and flowers his head lies pillowed low,
No more to sing petite coquille at Benny Havens’ O. At Benny Havens’ O, at Benny Havens’ O,
No more to sing petite coquille at Benny Havens’ O, etc.
CHAPTER V.
PLEBE CAMP.
“PLEBE CAMP!” The very words are suggestive. Those who have been cadets know what “plebe camp” is. To a plebe just beginning his military career the first experience of camp is most trying. To him every thing is new. Every one seems determined to impose upon him, and each individual “plebe” fancies at times he’s picked out from all the rest as an especially good subject for this abuse (?). It is not indeed a very pleasant prospect before him, nor should he expect it to be. But what must be his feelings when some old cadet paints for his pleasure camp scenes and experiences? Whatever he may have known of camp life before seems as naught to him now. It is a new sort of life he is to lead there, and he feels himself, although curious and anxious to test it, somewhat shy of entering such a place. There is no alternative. He accepts it resignedly and goes ahead. It is not always with smiling countenance that he marches out and surveys the site after reveille. Indeed, those who do have almost certainly received A highly colored sketch of camp life, and are hastening to sad disappointment, and not at all to the joys they’ve been led to expect. He marches into the company streets. He surveys them carefully and recognizes what is meant by “the plebes have to do all the policing,” servants being an unknown luxury. He also sees the sentry-boxes and the paths the sentinels tread, and shudders as he recollects the tales of midnight adventure which some wily cadet has narrated to him. Imagination begins her cruel work. Already he sees himself lying at the bottom of Fort Clinton Ditch tied in a blanket, or perhaps fetterless and free, but helpless. Or he may imagine his hands are tied to one, and his feet to the other tent-pole, and himself struggling for freedom as he recognizes that the reveille gun has been fired and those merciless fifers and drummers are rapidly finishing the reveille. And, horror of horrors! mayhap his fancies picture him standing tremblingly on post at midnight’s solemn hour, his gun just balanced in his hands, while numbers of cadets in hideous sheets and other ghostly garb approach or are already standing around torturing him. And again, perchance, he challenges some approaching person in one direction, and finds to his dismay the officer of the day, the officer of the guard, and a corporal are crossing and recrossing his post, or having already advanced without being challenged, are demanding why it is, and why he has been so negligent.
Just after reveille on the morning of June 22d the companies were marched to their company streets, and the “plebes” assigned to each followed in rear. At the time only the tent floors and cord stays were on the ground. These former the plebes were ordered to align. This we did while the old cadets looked on, occasionally correcting or making some suggestion. It required considerable time to do this, as we were inexperienced and had to await some explanation of what we were to do.
When at last we were done, tents, or rather tent floors, were assigned to us. We thence returned to barracks and to breakfast. Our more bulky effects were carried into camp on wagons before breakfast, while the lighter articles were moved over by our own hands. By, or perhaps before, eleven o’clock every thing had been taken to camp. By twelve we were in ranks ready to march in. At the last stroke of the clock the column was put in march, and we marched in with all the “glory of war.” We stacked arms in the company streets, broke ranks, and each repaired to the tent assigned him, which had by this time been brought over and placed folded on the tent floors. They were rapidly prepared for raising, and at a signal made on a drum the tents were raised simultaneously, ‘mid rousing cheers, which told that another “camp” was begun.
After this we had dinner, and then we put our tents in order. At four o’clock the police-call was sounded, and all the “plebes” were turned out to police the company streets. This new phase of West Point life– and its phases rapidly developed themselves–was a hard one indeed. The duties are menial, and very few discharge them without some show of displeasure, and often of temper. None are exempt. It is not hard work, and yet every one objects to doing it. The third and fourth classes, by regulations, are required to do the policing. When I was a plebe, the plebes did it all. Many indeed tried to shirk it, but they were invariably “hived.” Every plebe who attempted any such thing was closely watched and made to work. The old cadets generally chose such men for “special dutymen,” and required them to bring water, pile bedding, sweep the floor, and do all sorts of menial services. Of course all this last is prohibited, and therefore risky. Somebody is “hived” and severely punished almost every year for allowing plebes to perform menial duties for him. But what of that? The more dangerous it becomes the more is it practised. Forbidden things always have an alluring sweetness about them. More caution, however, is observed. If, for instance, a cadet should want a pail of water, he causes a plebe to empty his (the plebe’s) into his own (the cadet’s). If it should be empty, he sends him to the hydrant to fill it, and, when he returns, gets possession of it as before. An officer seeing a plebe with his own pail–recognizable by his own name being on it in huge Roman characters–going for water would say nothing to him. If the name, however, should be that of a cadet, the plebe would be fortunate if he escaped an investigation or a reprimand on the spot, and the cadet, too, if he were not put in arrest for allowing a new cadet to perform menial services for him. If he wants a dipper of iced-water, he calls out to the first plebe he sees in some such manner as this: “Oh! Mr.–, don’t you want to borrow my dipper for a little while?” The plebe of course understands this. He may smile possibly, and if not serving some punishment will go for the water.
Plebes are also required to clean the equipments of the older cadets. They do it cheerfully, and, strange to say, are as careful not to be “hived” as the cadet whose accoutrements they are cleaning. I say “required.” I do not mean that regulations or orders require this of the new cadets, but that the cadets by way of hazing do. From the heartrending tales of hazing at West Point, which citizens sometimes read of, one would think the plebes would offer some resistance or would complain to the authorities. These tales are for the most part untrue. In earlier days perhaps hazing was practised in a more inhuman manner than now. It may be impossible, and indeed is, for a plebe to cross a company street without having some one yell out to him: “Get your hands around, mister. Hold your head up;” but all that is required by tactics. Perhaps the frequency and unnecessary repetition of these cautions give them the appearance of hazing. However that may be, there seems to be no way to impress upon a plebe the necessity of carrying his “palms to the front,” or his “head up.” To report him and give him demerits merely causes him to laugh and joke over the number of them that have been recorded against him.
I do not mean to defend hazing in any sense of the word; but I do believe that it is indispensable as practised at the Academy. It would simply be impossible to mould and polish the social amalgamation at West Point without it. Some of the rough specimens annually admitted care nothing for regulations. It is fun to them to be punished. Nothing so effectually makes a plebe submissive as hazing. That contemptuous look and imperious bearing lowers a plebe, I sometimes think, in his own estimation. He is in a manner cowed and made to feel that he must obey, and not disobey; to feel that he is a plebe, and must expect a plebe’s portion. He is taught by it to stay in his place, and not to “bone popularity” with the older cadets.
It is frequently said that “plebe camp” and “plebe life” are the severest parts of life at West Point. To some they are, and to others they are not. With my own self I was almost entirely free from hazing, and while there were features in “plebe life” which I disliked, I did nevertheless have a far easier and better time than my own white classmates. Even white plebes often go through their camp pleasantly and profitably. Only those who shirk duty have to suffer any unusual punishment or hazing.
I have known plebes to be permitted to do any thing they chose while off duty. I have known others to have been kept working on their guns or other equipments whole days for several days at a time. It mattered not how clean they were, or how soon the work was done. I’ve known them to be many times interrupted for the mere sake of hazing, and perhaps to be sent somewhere or to do something which was unnecessary and would have been as well undone. Plebes who tent with first-classmen keep their own tents in order, and are never permitted by their tentmates to do any thing of the kind for others unless when wanted, are entirely unoccupied, and then usually their services are asked for. A classmate of mine, when a plebe, tented with a first-classman. He was doing something for himself one day in a free-and-easy manner, and had no thought of disturbing any one. A yearling corporal, who was passing, saw him, thought he was having too good and soft a time of it, and ordered him out to tighten cords, an act then highly uncalled for, save as a means of hazing. The first-classman happened to come up just as the plebe began to interfere with the cords, and asked him who told him to do that. He told him, and was at once directed to leave them and return to whatever he was doing before being interrupted. The yearling, confident in his red tape and his mightiness, ordered the plebe out again. His corporalship soon discovered his mistake, for the first-classman gave the plebe full information as to what could be required of him, and told him to disobey any improper order of the corporal’s which was plainly given to haze him. The affair was made personal. A fight ensued. The corporal was worsted, to the delight, I imagine, of the plebes.
Again, I’ve known plebes to be stopped from work–if they were doing something for a cadet–to transfer it to some other one who was accustomed to shirk all the duty he could, or who did things slowly and slovenly. Indeed I may assert generally that plebes who are willing to work have little to do outside of their regular duty, and fare in plebe camp quite as well as yearlings; while those who are stubborn and careless are required to do most all the work. Cadets purposely select them and make them work. They, too, are very frequently objects of hazing in its severest form. At best, though, plebe camp is rather hard, its Numerous drills, together with guard and police duty, make it the severest and most undesirable portion of the four years a cadet spends at the Academy.
To get up at five o’clock and be present at reveille roll-call, to police for half an hour, to have squad drill during the next hour, to put one’s tent in order after that, and then to prepare one’s self for breakfast at seven, make up a rather trying round of duties. To discharge them all–and that must certainly be done–keeps one busy; but who would not prefer little extra work–and not hard work at that– in the cooler part of the day to an equal amount in the heated portion of it? I am sure the plebes do. I know the corporals and other officers who drill them do, although they lose their after-reveille sleep.
After breakfast comes troop parade at eight o’clock, guard mounting immediately after, and the establishment of the “color line.” Arms and accoutrements must be in perfect order. The plebes clean them during the afternoon, so that before parade it is seldom necessary to do more than wipe off dust, or adjust a belt, or something of the kind.
After establishing the “color line,” which is done about 8.30 A.M., all cadets, save those on guard and those marching on, have time to do whatever they choose. The cadets generally repair to the guard tents to see lady friends and other acquaintances, while the plebes either interest themselves in the inspection of “color men,” or make ready for artillery drill at nine. The latter drill, commencing at 9 A.M., continues for one hour. The yearlings and plebes receive instruction in the manual and nomenclature of the piece. The drill is not very trying unless the heavy guns are used–I mean unless they are drilled at the battery of twelve-pounders. Of late both classes have been drilled at batteries of three-inch rifles. These are light and easily manoeuvred, and unless the heat be intense the drill is a very pleasant one.
The first class, during this same hour, are drilled at the siege or seacoast battery. The work here is sometimes hard and sometimes not. When firing, the drill is pleasant and interesting, but when we have mechanical manoeuvres all this pleasantness vanishes. Then we have hard work. Dismounting and mounting is not a very pleasant recreation.
At eleven o’clock, every day for a week or ten days, the plebes have manual drill. This is entirely in the shade, and when “In place, rest,” is frequently given, is not at all displeasing, except when some yearling corporal evinces a disposition to haze. At five o’clock this drill is repeated Then comes parade, supper, tattoo, and best of all a long night’s rest. The last two drills continue for a few days only, and sometimes do not take place at all.
The third class, or the yearlings, have dancing from eleven to twelve, and the plebes from then till one. In the afternoon the plebes have nothing to do in the way of duty till four o’clock. The camp is then policed, and when that is done there may or may not be any further duty to discharge till retreat parade. After the plebes are put in the battalion–that is, after they begin drilling, etc., with their companies –all cadets attend company drill at five o’clock. After attending a few of these drills the first class is excused from further attendance during the encampment. One officer and the requisite number of privates, however, are detailed from the class each day to act as officers at these drills.
I omitted to say that the first class received in the forenoon instruction in practical military engineering and ordnance.
What most tries plebes, and yearlings, too, is guard duty. If their classes are small, each member of them is put on guard every third or fourth day. To the plebes, being something entirely new, guard duty is very, very obnoxious.
During the day they fare well enough, but as soon as night comes “well enough” disappears. They are liable at any moment to be visited by cadets on a hazing tour from the body of the camp, or by the officers and non- commissioned officers of the guard. The latter generally leave the post of the guard in groups of three or four. After getting into camp they separate, and manage to come upon a sentinel simultaneously and from all points of the compass. If the sentinel isn’t cool, he will challenge and Advance one, and possibly let the others come upon him unchallenged and unseen even. Then woe be to him! He’ll be “crawled over” for a certainty, and to make his crimes appear as bad as possible, will be reported for “neglect of duty while a sentinel, allowing the officers and non–commissioned officers of the guard to advance upon him, and to cross his post repeatedly without being challenged.” He knows the report to be true, and if he submits an explanation for the offence his inexperience will be considered, and he will probably get no demerits for his neglect of duty.
But the best joke of all is in their manner of calling off the half-hours at night, and of challenging. Sometimes we hear No. 2 call off, “No. 2, ten o’clock, and all is well,” in a most natural and unconcerned tone of voice, while No. 3 may sing out, “No. 3, ten o’clock and all is well-l-l,” changing his tone only on the last word. Then No. 4, with another variation, may call off, “No. 4, ten o’clock, and all-l-l-l’s well,” changing his tone on “all-l-l-l’s,” and speaking the rest, especially the last word, in a low and natural manner of voice, and sometimes abruptly. And so on along the entire chain of sentinels, each one calls off in a manner different from that of the rest. Sometimes the calling off is scarcely to be heard, sometimes it is loud and full, and again it is distinct but squeakish. It is indeed most delightful to be in one’s tent and here the plebes call off in the still quiet hours of the night. One can’t well help laughing, and yet all plebes, more or less, call off in the same manner.
Plebe sentinels are very troublesome sometimes to the non-commissioned officers of the guard. They receive their orders time after time, and when inspected for them most frequently spit them out with ease and readiness; but just as soon as night comes, and there is a chance to apply them, they “fess utterly cold,” and in the simplest things at that. Nine plebes out of ten almost invariably challenge thus, “Who comes here?” “Who stands here?” “Who goes here?” as the case may be, notwithstanding they have been repeatedly instructed orally, and have seen the words, as they should be, in the regulations. If a person is going, and is a hundred yards or so off, it is still, “Who goes here?” Everything is “here.”
One night the officer of the day concealed himself near a sentinel’s post, and suddenly appeared on it. The plebe threw his gun down to the proper position and yelled out, “Who comes here?” The officer of the day stopped short, whereupon the plebe jumped at him and shouted, “Who stands here?” Immediately the officer started off, saying as he did so, “I’m not standing; I’m going.” Then of course the challenge was again changed to, “Who goes here? “I’m not going; I’m coming,” said the officer, facing about and approaching the sentinel. This was kept up for a considerable time, till the officer of the day got near a sentry-box and suddenly disappeared. The plebe knew he was there, and yelled in a louder tone than before, “Who stands here? “Sentry-box,” was the solemn and ghostly response.
It is hardly reasonable, I think, to say the plebe was frightened; but he actually stood there motionless, repeating his challenge over and over again, “Who stands here?”
There was a light battery in park near by, and through this, aided by the gloom, the officer of the day managed to pass unobserved along, but not on the sentinel’s post. He then got upon it and advanced on him, making the while much noise with his sword and his heavy tread. He walked directly up to the sentinel unchallenged, and startled him by asking, “What are you standing here yelling for?”
The plebe told him that the officer of the day had been upon his post, and he had seen him go behind the sentry-box. And all this to the officer of the day, standing there before him, “Well, sir, whom do you take me to be?”
The plebe looks, and for the first time brought to full consciousness, recognizes the officer of the day. Of course he is surprised, and the more so when the officer of the day inspects for his–the plebe’s–satisfaction the sentry-box, and finds no one there. He “eats” that plebe up entirely, and then sends a corporal around to instruct him in his orders. When the corporal comes it may be just as difficult to advance him. He may, when challenged, advance without replying, or, if he replies, he may say, “Steamboat,” “Captain Jack, Queen of the Modocs,” as one did say to me, or something or somebody else not entitled to the countersign. Possibly the plebe remembers this, and he may command “Halt!” and call another corporal. This latter may come on a run at “charge bayonets,” and may not stop till within a foot or so of the sentinel. He then gets another “cursing out.” By this time the corporal who first came and was halted has advanced unchallenged and unnoticed since the arrival of the second. And then another cursing out. Thus it is that plebe camp is made so hard.
Surely the officers and non-commissioned officers are right in testing by all manner of ruses the ability of the sentinels. It is their duty to instruct them, to see that they know their orders, and are not afraid to apply them.
Sometimes plebes enjoy it, and like to be cursed out. Sometimes they purposely advance toward a party improperly, to see what will be said to them. It is fun to some, and to others most serious. At best it gives a plebe a poor opinion of West Point, and while he may bear it meekly he nevertheless sighs for the “– touch of a vanished hand,” the caressing hand of a loving mother or sister. I know I used to hate the very name of camp, and I had an easier time, too, than the other plebes.
Of course the plebes, being inexperienced for the most part, are “high privates in the rear rank.” For another reason, also, this is the case. The first and second classes have the right established by immemorial custom of marching in the front rank, which right necessarily keeps the plebes in the rear rank, and the yearlings too, except so many as are required in the front rank for the proper formation of the company. Another reason, perhaps, may be given to the same end. We have what we call class rank, or, in other words, class standing. Every class has certain privileges and immunities, which the junior classes do not enjoy; for example, first- classmen, and second-classmen too–by General Orders of September, 1876–are excused from guard duty in the capacity of privates, and are detailed– first- classmen for officers of the day and officers of the guard, and second-classmen for non-commissioned officers of the guard. All members of the third and fourth classes are privates, and from them the privates of the guard are detailed. All officers, commissioned and non-commissioned, are exempt from “Saturday punishment.” I mean they do not walk extra tours of guard for punishment. The non- commissioned officers are sometimes required to serve such punishments by discharging the duties of corporal or sergeant in connection with the punishment squad. Third-and fourth-classmen enjoy no such immunities. Plebes, then, having no rank whatever, being in fact conditional cadets until they shall have received their warrants in the following January, must give way to those who have. One half or more of the privates of the company must be in the front rank. This half is made up of those who rank highest, first-classmen and second-classmen, and also, if necessary, a number of third-classmen. Plebes must then, except in rare cases, march in the rear rank, and from the time they are put in the battalion till the close of the summer encampment, they are required to carry their hands with palms to the front as prescribed in the tactics.
All this is kept up till the close of camp, and makes, I think, plebe camp the most trying part of one’s cadet life.
On the 28th of August the furloughmen return, and report to the commandant at two o’clock for duty.
In the afternoon the battalion is sized and quarters are assigned under the supervision of the assistant- instructors of tactics.
At parade the appointment of officers and non- commissioned officers for the ensuing year is published, and also orders for the discontinuance of the encampment.
In the evening the “twenty-eighth hop” takes place, and is the last of the season. On the 29th–and beginning at reveille–the cadets move their effects into winter quarters in barracks. All heavy articles are moved in on wagons, while all lighter ones are carried over by cadets themselves. By seven o’clock every thing is moved away from camp, save each cadet’s accoutrements.
Breakfast is served at 7 A.M., and immediately afterward comes “troop” and guard-mounting, after which the entire camp is thoroughly policed. This requires an hour or more, and when all is done the “general” is sounded. At this the companies are formed under arm in their respective company streets. The arms are then stacked and ranks broken. At least two cadets repair to each tent, and at the first tap of the drum remove and roll up all the cords save the corner ones. At the second tap, while one cadet steadies the tent the other removes and rolls the corner cords nearest him. The tents in the body of the encampment are moved. Back two feet, more or less, from the color line, while the guard tents and those of the company officers are moved in a northerly direction. At the third tap the tents fall simultaneously toward the color line and the south cardinal point, amid rousing cheers. The tents being neatly rolled up and placed on the floors, the companies are reformed and on the centre. The battalion then marches out to take up its winter quarters in barracks.
When camp is over the plebes are no longer required to depress their toes or to carry their hands with palms to the front. They are, in fact, “cadets and gentlemen,” and must take care of themselves.
CHAPTER VI.
STUDIES, ETC.
THE academic year begins July 1st, and continues till about June 20th the following year. As soon after this as practicable–depending upon what time the examination is finished–the corps moves into camp, with the exception of the second class, who go on furlough instead.
Between the 20th of August and the 1st of September, the “Seps,” or those candidates who were unable to do so in the spring previous, report. Before the 1st they have been examined and the deficient ones dismissed. On the 1st, unless that be Sunday, academic duties begin. The classes are arranged into a number of sections, according to their class rank, as determined at the previous annual examination, or according to rank in some particular study–for instance, for instruction in engineering the first class is arranged according to merit in philosophy, and not according to general merit or class rank. The fourth, or “plebe” class, however, is arranged alphabetically since they as yet have no class rank.
The first class study, during the first term, engineering law, and ordnance and gunnery. They recite on civil engineering from 8 to 11 A.M. daily, on ordnance and gunnery from 2 to 4 P.M., alternating with law.
The second class have natural and experimental philosophy from 8 to 11 A.M. daily, and chemistry, alternating with riding, from 11 A.M. to 1 P.M.; also drawing in pencil from 2 to 4 P.M. For instruction in this department the class is divided into two as nearly equal parts as practicable, which alternate in attendance at the Drawing Academy.
The third class have pure mathematics, analytical Geometry, descriptive geometry, and the principles of shades, shadows, and perspective, from 8 to 11 A.M. daily. They also have French from 11 A.M., till 1 P.M., alternating with Spanish.
The entire class attend drawing daily till November 1st, when it is divided into two equal parts or platoons, which attend drawing and riding on alternate clays. Riding! “Yearling riding!” I must advert to that before I go further. First let me describe it. A platoon of yearlings, twenty, thirty, forty perhaps; as many horses; a spacious riding- hall, with galleries that seat but too many mischievous young ladies, and whose interior is well supplied with tan bark, make up the principal objects in the play. Nay, I omit the most important characters, the Instructor and the necessary number of enlisted, men.
ACT I.
SCENE I.
Area of barracks. At guard-house door stands an orderly, with drum in hands. In the area a number of cadets, some in every-day attire, others dressed à la cavalier. These à la cavalier fellows are going to take their first lesson in riding. About four- fifths of them were never on a horse in their lives, and hence what dire expectations hover over their ordinarily placid heads! They have heard from the upper classmen what trials the novice experiences in his first efforts, and they do not go to the riding-hall without some dread. Four o’clock and ten minutes. The drum is beaten.
Officer of the Day.–Form your platoon! Right, face! Call your roll!
Section Marcher.–Bejay! Barnes! Du Furing! Swikeheimer! Du Flicket, etc.
Platoon (answering to their names).–Here! Here-re- re! ho-o-o! hi-i-i! har-ar-ar! Heer-r!
Section Marcher (facing about salutes).–All are present, sir!
Officer of the Day (returning salute).–March off your platoon, sir!
Section Marcher (facing about).–Left face! forward. March! (Curtain falls.)
ACT II.
SCENE I.
The riding-hall, a large, spacious, rectangular structure, door on each side and at each end, floor well covered with tan bark, spacious gallery over each side door, staircases outside leading to them. Galleries are occupied, one by ladies, and, perhaps a number of gentlemen, and the other by enlisted men usually. In the centre of the hall are a number of horses, each equipped with a surcingle, blanket, and watering bridle. A soldier stands at the head of each one of them. As curtain rises enter platoon by side door, and marches around the left flank of the line of horses and as far forward as necessary.
Section Marcher.–Platoon, halt! left, face! (Saluting Instructor) All are present, sir!
Instructor (saluting).–The Section Marcher will take his place on the left.
He then gives all necessary instruction.
“To mount the trooper the Instructor first causes him to stand to horse by the command ‘Stand to horse!’ At this command–” Well, see “Cavalry Tactics.”
We’ve got the trooper mounted now. After some further explanation the Instructor forms them into a column of files by the commands:
“By file, by the right (or left) flank. March!”
They are now going around the hall at a walk, a slow, snail-like pace, but what figures some of them present! Still all goes on quite well. The Instructor is speaking:
“To trot,” says he, “raise the hands” (“yearlings” use both hands) “slightly. This is to apprise the horse that you want his attention. Then lower the hands slightly, and at the same time gently press the horse with the legs until he takes the gait desired. As soon as he does, relax the pressure.” A long pause. The occupants of the galleries are looking anxiously on. They know what is coming next. They have seen these drills over and over again. And so each trooper awaits anxiously the next command. Alas! It comes! “Trot!”
What peals of laughter from that cruel gallery! But why? Ah! See there that trooper struggling in the tan bark while a soldier pursues his steed. He is not hurt. He gets up, brushes away the tan bark, remounts and starts off again. But there, he’s off again! He’s continually falling off or jumping off purposely (?). What confusion! There comes one at a full gallop, sticking on as best he can; but there, the poor fellow is off. The horses are running away. The troopers are dropping off everywhere in the hall. No one is hurt. Alas! they pressed too hard to keep on, and instead of relaxing the pressure at the desired gait, the trot, they kept on pressing, the horse taking the trot, the gallop, the run, and the trooper, alas! the dust. Again they had the reins too long, and instead of holding on by the flat of the thighs with their feet parallel to the horse, we see them making all sorts of angles. But that gallery! that gallery! how I used to wish it wasn’t there! The very sight of a lady under such circumstances is most embarrassing.
Fair ones, why will you thus torture the “yearlings” by your at other times so desirable presence?
The fourth class have pure mathematics, and algebra, daily from 8 to 11 A.M., and French also, daily, from 2 to 4 P.M. Beginning on October 15th, or as near that time as practicable, they have fencing, and the use of the bayonet and small-sword.
During the month of September cadets of all classes, or the battalion, are instructed in the infantry tactics in the “School of the Battalion.” Near the end of the month it is customary to excuse the officers of the first class from these drills, and to detail privates to perform their duties for one drill only at a time. The other classes are in ranks, or the line of file-closers, according as they are sergeants, guides, or privates.
During October the several classes receive practical instruction as follows: The first class in military engineering, the manner of making and recording the details of a military reconnoissance, and field sketching; the second class in siege and sea-coast artillery, and military signalling and telegraphy. The class is divided into two parts, composed of the odd and even numbers, which attend drills on alternate days–that is, artillery one day and signalling the next; the third class in light or field artillery, and the theory and principles of “target practice.” Sometimes this latter is given during camp, as is most convenient. Sometimes, also, they receive instruction in ordnance. This, however, is generally deferred till they become first-classmen.
For further instruction of the first class the following part of the personnel of a light battery is detailed from that class, viz.: three chiefs of platoon, one chief of caissons, one guidon, and six chiefs of section. Each member of the class is detailed for each of these offices in his proper order.
The fourth class receives instruction in field artillery at the “foot batteries.” This instruction is limited to the nomenclature and manual of the piece. Here, also, to assist the instructor, a chief of piece for each piece is detailed. They are required to correct all errors made by the plebes, and sometimes even to drill them. Hence a knowledge of tactics is indispensable, and the means of fixing such knowledge in the mind is afforded.
Sometimes also two first-classmen are required to assist at the siege or sea-coast batteries.
Every day throughout the year a guard is mounted. It consists of two officers of the guard–sometimes only one–one sergeant, three corporals–or more– and twenty-four privates–sometimes, also, eighteen or twenty-one in camp, and twenty-seven in barracks. Every day, also, there is one officer of the day detailed from the first class.
The weather permitting, we have “dress parade” daily. When unfavorable, on account of snow, rain, or severe cold, we have “undress parade”–that is, parade without arms and in undress or fatigue uniform, the object being to get us all together to publish the orders, etc., for the morrow. After November 1st we usually have “undress parade,” and then “supper mess parade.” Between these two ceremonies the cadets amuse themselves at the gymnasium, dancing or skating, or “spooneying,” or at the library; generally, I think–the upper classmen at any rate–at the library. After supper we have recreation and then study. And thus we “live and do” till January.
The semi-annual examination begins January 1st, or as soon thereafter as practicable. The plebes are examined first, and started in their new studies as soon as possible. After the plebes the other classes are examined in the order of their rank–that is, first class, second class, and third class–and of the importance of their studies, engineering being first, then philosophy, and mathematics, etc.
The examination being over, the deficient ones, after receiving orders from the Secretary of War, are dismissed. Studies are then resumed as follows:
For the first class military engineering, ordnance, and gunnery, constitutional law, military law, rules of evidence, practice of courts-martial, mineralogy, and geology, strategy, and grand tactics, and the throwing and dismantling of pontoon bridges. For the second class, acoustics and optics, astronomy, analytical mechanics in review; infantry, artillery, and cavalry tactics; drawing, riding, and signalling. For the third class, calculus, surveying, geometry, and riding. Immediately after the examination the entire third class receive instruction in mechanical drawing before they begin their other mathematical studies. For the fourth class the studies are plane geometry, trigonometry, descriptive geometry, and fencing, including the use of the small-sword, broad- sword, and bayonet.
Parades, guard duty, etc., remain as previously described until about the middle of March usually. At that time the ordinary routine of drills, dress parades, etc., is resumed; but drills in this order, viz., from March 15th to April 1st instruction in the school of the company; in artillery tactics, as before described during April; and in infantry tactics, in the “School of the Battalion,” during May. The annual examination takes place in June. The following diary, made for the purpose of insertion here, will best explain what generally occurs during the month:
MEMORANDA.
Thursday, June 1, 1876.–Resumed white pants at 5.10 P.M. Received Board of Visitors by a review at 5.10 P.M. Examination begun at 9 A.M. First class, engineering. Salute of fifteen guns at meridian to Board of Visitors.
Friday, June 2.–First class, engineering finished. Second class, philosophy commenced. Siege battery drill at 5.10 P.M.
Saturday, June 3.–Second class, philosophy continued.
Monday, June 5.–Light battery at 5.10 P.M. A yearling lost his “white continuations.” Plebes went to parade.
Tuesday, June 6.–Fourth class, entire in French. Examination written. Second class, philosophy finished. First class, mineralogy and geology begun. Third class, mathematics begun. Battalion drill at 5.10 P.M.
Wednesday, June 7.–Second class turned out, marched to sea-coast battery at 11 A.M. Three detachments selected. Rest marched back and dismissed. Cavalry drill at 5.10 P.M. Six second-classmen turned out. Plebes put in battalion.
Thursday, June 8.–Plebes put on guard. Pontoon bridging, 5.10 P. M.
Friday, June 9.–Battalion skirmish drill 5.10 P.M. Deployed to front at double time. Second, fourth, and seventh companies reserve. Almost all manoeuvres at double time. Deployed by numbers and charged. Marched in in line, band on right. Broke into column of companies to the left, changed direction to the right, obliqued to the left, moved forward and formed “front into line, faced to the rear.” Arms inspected, ammunition returned. Dismissed.
Saturday, June 10.–Third class, mathematics finished. Miss Philips sang to cadets in mess hall after supper. First class, ordnance begun.
Sunday, June 11.–Graduating sermon by Hon.–, of Princeton, N. J., closing “hime,” “When shall we meet again?” Graduating dinner at 2 P.M.
Monday, June 12.–Detail from first class to ride in hall. Use of sabre and pistol on horseback. First class, ordnance finished. Law begun.
Tuesday, June 13.–First class finished. Board divided into committees. Second class, chemistry begun. Graduating parade. Corps cheered by graduates after parade. Hop in evening; also German; whole continuing till 3 A.M. Rumor has it two first-classmen, Slocum and Guilfoyle, are “found” in ordnance and engineering.
Wednesday, June 14.–Fourth class, mathematics begun. Salute seventeen guns at 10 A.M. in honor of arrival at post of General Sherman and Colonel Poe of his staff. Graduating exercises from 11 A.M. till near 1 P.M. Addresses to graduates. Mortar practice and fireworks at night.
This ended the “gala” days at West Point in ’76.
Thursday, June 15.–Usual routine of duties resumed. Company drills in the afternoon from 5.10 to 6.10 P.M. Rather unusual, but we’re going to the Centennial. Rumor has it we encamp Saturday the 17th for ten days.
Friday, June 16.–Dom Pedro, emperador de la Brasil estaba recibiado para un “review” a las cuatro horas y quarenta y cinco minutos. El embarcó por la ciudad de Nueva York inmediatemente Second class, chemistry finished. Third class, French begun.
Saturday, June 17.–Third class, French finished. Third class, Spanish begun. “Camp rumor” not true.
Monday, June 19.–Moved into camp, aligned tent floors at 5 A. M. in the rain. Required by order to move in effects at 9 A. M., and to march in and pitch tents at 12 M. Rained in torrents. Marched in, etc., at 9 A.M. Effects moved in afterwards. Rain ceased by 12 M. Marched in. Second class, tactics finished. Third class, Spanish finished.
Ordinarily as soon as the examination is over the third class take advantage of the two months’ furlough allowed them, while other classes go into camp. This encampment begins June 17th, or a day or two earlier or later, according to circumstances. This brings me to the end of the first year. I have described camp life, and also, I observe, each of the remaining years of cadet life. On July 1st the plebes become the fourth class; the original fourth the third; the third, now on furlough, the second; and the second the first. I have given in an earlier part of my narrative the studies, etc., of these several classes.
The plebe, or fourth class of the previous year, are now become yearlings, and are therefore in their “yearling camp.” At the end of every month an extract from the class and conduct report of each cadet is sent to his parents or guardian for their information. I insert a copy of one of these monthly reports.
UNITED STATES MILITARY ACADEMY,
West Point, N. Y., March 26, 1875.
EXTRACT from the Class and Conduct Reports of the MILITARY ACADEMY for the month of February, 1875, furnished for the information of Parents and Guardians,
THIRD CLASS–Composed of 83 Members.
Cadet Henry O. Flipper
Was, in Mathematics………No. 48 ” French…………..No. 48
” Spanish,…………No. 37 ” Drawing………….No. 40
His demerit for the month is 2, and since the commencement of the academic half year, 23.
Robt. H. Hall,
Captain 10th Infantry, Adjutant Military Academy.
REGULATIONS FOR THE MILITARY ACADEMY.
Par. 71.–When any Cadet shall have a total of numbers [of demerit] thus recorded, exceeding one hundred in six months, he shall be declared deficient in discipline.
Par. 153.–No Cadet shall apply for, or receive money, or any other supplies from his parents, or from any person whomsoever, without permission of the Superintendent.
Note.–The attention of Parents and Guardians is invited to the foregoing Regulations. The permission referred to in paragraph 153 must be obtained before the shipment to the cadet of the supplies desired.
[Tables omitted.]
CHAPTER VII.
YEARLING CAMP.
IN this chapter I shall describe only those phases of cadet life which are experienced by “yearlings” in their “yearling camp.”
Beginning July 5th, or as soon after as practicable, the third class receive practical instruction in the nomenclature and manual of the field-piece. This drill continues till August 1st, when they begin the “School of the Battery.”
The class attend dancing daily. Attendance at dancing is optional with that part of the third class called “yearlings,” and compulsory for the “Seps,” who of course do not become yearlings till the following September. The third class also receive instruction in the duties of a military laboratory, and “target practice.” These instructions are not always given during camp. They may be given in the autumn or spring.
Another delight of the yearling is to “bone colors.” Immediately in front of camp proper is a narrow path extending entirely across the ground, and known as the “color line.” On the 1st of August–sometimes before– the “color line” is established, this name being applied also to the purpose of the color line. This ceremony consists in stacking arms just in rear of the color line, and placing the colors on the two stacks nearest the centre of the line.
From the privates of the guard three are chosen to guard the stacks and to require every one who crosses the color line or passes within fifteen paces of the colors to salute them. These three sentinels are known as the “colors,” or “color men,” and are numbered “first,” “second,” and “third.”
Those are chosen who are neatest and most soldierlike in their appearance. Cadets prepare themselves specially for this, and they toss up their guns to the adjutant at guard-mounting. This signifies that they intend competing for “colors.” The adjutant falls them out after the guard has marched to its post, and inspects them. Absolute cleanliness is necessary. Any spot of dirt, dust, or any thing unclean will often defeat one. Yearlings “bone” their guns and accoutrements for “colors,” and sometimes get them every time they toss up.
A “color man” must use only those equipments issued to him. He cannot borrow those of a man who has “boned them up” and expect to get colors. Sometimes– but rarely–plebes compete and win.
The inducement for this extra labor is simply this: Instead of being on duty twenty-four hours, color men are relieved from 4 P. M. till 8 A. M. the next day, when they march off. They of course enjoy all other privileges given the “Old Guard.”
“Sentinels for the Color Line.–The sentinels for the color line will be permitted to go to their tents from the time the stacks are broken till 8 A.M. the following morning, when they will rejoin the guard. They will be excused from marching to meals, but will report to the officer of the guard at the roll-call for each meal, and also at tattoo and reveille.”–(From Résumé of Existing Orders, U. S. C. C.)
It is the yearling who does most of the hazing. Just emerged from his chrysalis state, having the year before received similar treatment at the hands of other yearlings, he retaliates, so to speak, upon the now plebe, and finds in such retaliation his share of enjoyment.
The practice, however, is losing ground. The cadets are more generous, and, with few exceptions, never interfere with a plebe. This is certainly an advance in the right direction; for although hazing does comprise some good, it is, notwithstanding, a low practice, one which manliness alone should condemn. None need information and assistance more than plebes, and it is unkind to refuse it ; nay, it is even not humane to refuse it and also to haze the asker. Such conduct, more than any thing else, discourages and disheartens him. It takes from him all desire to do and earn, to study or strive for success. At best it can be defended only as being effective where regulations are not, viz., in the cases of rough specimens who now not infrequently manage to win their appointments.
Formerly in yearling camp the corporals were all “acting sergeants.” They were so acting in the absence of the de facto sergeants. These corporals got the idea into their heads that to retain their appointments they had to do a certain amount of “skinning,” and often “skins” were more fancied than real. This was a rather sad condition of affairs. Plebes would find their demerits accumulating and become disheartened. It was all due to this unnecessary rigor, and “being military,” which some of the yearling corporals affected. No one bears, or rather did bear, such a reputation as the yearling corporal. As such he was disliked by everybody, and plebes have frequently fought them for their unmanly treatment. This, however, was. It is no more. We have no yearling corporals, and plebes fare better generally than ever before. Not because all yearling corporals thus subserved their ambition by reporting men for little things that might as well have been overlooked, did they get this bad reputation, but rather because with it they coupled the severest hazing, and sometimes even insults. That was unmanly as well as mean. Hazing could be endured, but not always insults.
Whether for this reason or not I cannot say, the authorities now appoint the corporals from the second class, men who are more dignified and courteous in their conduct toward all, and especially toward plebes. The advantages of this system are evident.
One scarcely appreciates cadet life–if such appreciation is possible–till he becomes a yearling. It is not till in yearling camp that a cadet begins to “spoon.” Not till then is he permitted to attend the hops, and of course he has but little opportunity to cultivate female society, nor is he expected to do so till then, for to assume any familiarity with the upper classes would be considered rather in advance of his “plebeship’s” rights. How then can he–he is little more than a stranger–become acquainted with the fair ones who either dwell at or are visiting West Point. Indeed, knowing “femmes” are quite as prone to haze as the cadets, and most unmercifully cut the unfortunate plebe. Some are also so very haughty: they will admit only first- classmen to their acquaintance and favor.
But Mr. Plebe, having become a yearling finds that the “Mr.” is dropped, and that he is allowed all necessary familiarity. He then begins to enjoy his cadetship, a position which for pleasure and happiness has untold advantages, for what woman can resist those glorious buttons? A yearling has another advantage. The furlough class is absent, and the plebes–well, they are “plebes.” Sufficient, isn’t it? The spooneying must all be done, then, by the first and third classes. Often a great number of the first class are bachelors, or not inclined to be spooney; and that duty then of course devolves on the more gallant part of that class and the yearlings.
The hop managers of the third class have been mentioned elsewhere. They enjoy peculiar facilities for pleasure, and, where a good selection has been made, do much to dispel the monotony of academic military life. Indeed, they do very much toward inducing others to cultivate a high sense of gallantry and respect for women. The refining influence of female society has greater play, and its good results are inevitable.
But what a wretched existence was mine when all this was denied me! One would be unwilling to believe I had not, from October, 1875, till May, 1876, spoken to a female of any age, and yet it was so. There was no society for me to enjoy–no friends, male or female, for me to visit, or with whom I could have any social intercourse, so absolute was my isolation.* Indeed, I had friends who often visited me, but they did so only when the weather was favorable. In the winter season, when nature, usually so attractive, presented nothing to amuse or dispel one’s gloom, and when, therefore, something or some one suited for that purpose was so desirable, no one of course visited me. But I will not murmur. I suppose this was but another constituent of that mechanical mixture of ills and anxieties and suspense that characterized my cadet life. At any rate I can console myself in my victory over prejudice, whether that victory be admitted or not. I know I have so lived that they could find in me no fault different from those at least common to themselves, and have thus forced upon their consciences a just and merited recognition whether or not they are disposed to follow conscience and openly accept my claim to their brotherly love.
*I could and did have a pleasant chat every day, more or less, with “Bentz the bugler,” the tailor, barber, commissary clerk, the policeman who scrubbed out my room and brought around the mail, the treasurer’s clerk, cadets occasionally, and others. The statement made in some of the newspapers, that from one year’s end to another I never heard the sound of my own voice, except in the recitation room, is thus seen to be untrue.
CHAPTER VIII.
FIRST-CLASS CAMP.
IT is a common saying among cadets that “first-class camp is just like furlough.” I rather think the assertion is an inheritance from former days and the cadets of those days, for the similarity at present between first-class camp and furlough is beyond our conception. There is none, or if any it is chimerical, depending entirely on circumstances. In the case of a small class it would be greater than in that of a large one. For instance, in “train drill” a certain number of men are required. No more are necessary. It would be inexpedient to employ a whole class when the class had more men in it than were required for the drill. In such cases the supernumeraries are instructed in something else, and alternate with those who attend train drill. In the case of a small class all attend the same drill daily, and that other duty or drill is reserved for autumn. Thus there is less drill in camp, and it becomes more like furlough when there is none at all.
Again, first-classmen enjoy more privileges than others, and for this reason their camp is more like furlough. If, however, there are numerous drills, the analogy will fail; for how can duty, drills, etc., coexist with privileges such as first-class privileges? Time which otherwise would be devoted to enjoyment of privileges is now consumed in drills. Still there is much in it which makes first-class camp the most delightful part of a cadet’s life. There are more privileges, the duties are lighter and more attractive, and make it withal more enjoyable. First, members of the class attend drill both as assistants and as students. They are detailed as chiefs of platoon, chiefs of section, chiefs of caissons, and as guidons at the light battery; as chiefs of pieces at the several foot batteries; attend themselves at the siege or sea-coast batteries, train drill, pontoon drill, engineering, ordnance, and astronomy, and they are also detailed as officers of the guard. These duties are generally not very difficult nor unpleasant to discharge. Second, from the nature of the privileges allowed first-classmen, they have more opportunity for pleasure than other cadets, and therefore avoid the rather serious consequences of their monotonous academic military life. A solitary monotonous life is rather apt to engender a dislike for mankind, and no high sense of honor or respect for women. I deem these privileges of especial importance, as they enable one to avoid that danger and to cultivate the highest possible regard for women, and those virtues and other Christian attributes of which they are the better exponents. A soldier is particularly liable to fall into this sans-souci way of looking at life, and those to whom its pleasures, as well as its ills, are largely due. We are indebted to our fellows for every thing which affects our life as regards its happiness or unhappiness, and this latter misfortune will rarely be ours if we properly appreciate our friends and those who can and will make life less wretched. To shut one’s self up in one’s self is merely to trust, or rather to set up, one’s own judgment as superior to the world’s. That cannot be, nor can there be happiness in such false views of our organization as being of and for each other.
At this point of the course many of the first-class have attained their majority. They are men, and in one year more will be officers of the army. It becomes them, therefore, to lay aside the ordinary student’s rôle, and assume a more dignified one, one more in conformity with their age and position. They leave all cadet rôles, etc., to the younger classes, and put on the proper dignity of men.
There are for them more privileges. They are more independent–more like men; and consequently they find another kind of enjoyment in camp than that of the cadet. It is a general, a proper, a rational sort of pleasure such as one would enjoy at home among relatives or friends, and hence the similarity between first-class camp and furlough.
But it is not thus with all first-classmen. Many, indeed the majority, are cadets till they graduate. They see every thing as a cadet, enjoy every thing as a cadet, and find the duties, etc., of first-class camp as irksome as those of plebe or yearling camp. Of course such men see no similarity between first- class camp and furlough. It is their misfortune. We should enjoy as many things as we can, and not sorrow over them. We should not make our life one of sorrow when it could as well be one of comfort and pleasure. I don’t mean comfort and pleasure in an epicurean sense, but in a moral one. Still first-classmen do have many duties to perform, but there is withal one consolation at least, there are no upper classmen to keep the plebe or yearling in his place. There is no feeling of humbleness because of junior rank, for the first class is the first in rank, and therefore need humble itself to none other than the proper authorities.
Again, their honor, as “cadets and gentlemen,” is relied upon as surety for obedience and regard for regulations. They are not subject to constant watching as plebes are. The rigor of discipline is not so severe upon them as upon others. It was expended upon them during their earlier years at the Academy, and, as a natural consequence, any violation of regulations, etc., by a first-classman, merits and receives a severer punishment than would be visited upon a junior classman for a like infringement on his part.
The duties of first-classmen in first-class camp are as follows: The officer of the day and two officers of the guard are detailed each day from the class. Their duties are precisely those of similar officers in the regular army. The junior officer of the guard daily reports to the observatory to find the error of the tower clock. Also each day are detailed the necessary assistants for the several light batteries, who are on foot or mounted, as the case may require. The remainder of the class receive instructions in the service of the siege and sea-coast artillery. These drills come in the early forenoon. After them come ordnance and engineering.
The entire class is divided as equally as may be into two parts, which alternate in attendance at ordnance and engineering.
In ordnance the instructions are on the preparation of military fireworks, fixing of ammunition and packing it, the battery wagon and forge. This instruction is thoroughly practical. The cadets make the cases for rockets, paper shells, etc., and fill them, leaving them ready for immediate use. The stands of fixed ammunition prepared are the grape and canister, and shell and shot, with their sabots.
The battery wagon and forge are packed as prescribed in the “Ordnance Manual.”
The instructions in engineering are also practical and military. They are in the modes of throwing and dismantling pontoon bridges, construction of fascines, gabions, hurdles, etc., and revetting batteries with them. Sometimes also during camp, more often after, foot reconnoissances are made. A morning and night detail is made daily from the class to receive practical instruction in astronomy in the field observatory.
Night signalling with torches, and telegraphy by day, form other sources of instruction for the first class.
Telegraphy, or train drill, as the drill is called, consists in erecting the telegraph line and opening communication between two stations, and when this is done, in communicating so as to acquire a practical knowledge of the instruments and their use.
These various drills–all of them occurring daily, Sunday of course excepted, and for part of them Saturday also–complete the course of instruction given the first class only during their first-class camp. It will be observed that they all of them are of a military nature and of the greatest importance. The instruction is thorough accordingly.
I have sufficiently described, I think, a cadet’s first-class camp. I shall, therefore, close the chapter here.
CHAPTER IX.
OUR FUTURE HEROES.
THE WEST POINT CADETS’ VACATION.
Ten Days of Centennial Sport for Prospective Warriors –The Miseries of three hundred Young Gentlemen who are limited to Ten Pairs of White Trousers each.
“ALMOST at the foot of George’s Hill, and not far to the westward of Machinery Hall, is the camp of the West Point cadets. From morning till night the domestic economy of the three hundred young gentlemen who compose the corps is closely watched, and their guard mountings and dress parades attract throngs of spectators. It would be hard to find anywhere a body of young men so manly in appearance, so perfect in discipline, and so soldier-like and intelligent. The system of competitive examination for admission, so largely adopted within the past few years in many of our large cities, has resulted in recruiting the corps with lads of bright intellect and more than ordinary attainments, while the strict physical examination has rigorously excluded all but those of good form and perfect health. The competitive system has also given to the Academy students who want to learn, instead of lads who are content to scramble through the prescribed course as best they can, escaping the disgrace of being “found” (a cadet term equivalent to the old college word “plucked”) by nearly a hair’s-breadth.
“The camp.–The camp is laid out in regulation style, and has four company streets. Near the western limit of the Centennial grounds are the tents of the commandant and the cadet captains and lieutenants. Below, on a gentle incline, are the wall tents, occupied by the cadets. Each of these has a board floor, and it is so arranged that when desired it may be thrown open on all sides. From two to four narrow iron cots, a bucket for water, an occasional chair, and now and then a mirror, comprise the furniture. But scanty as it is, every article of this little outfit has a place, and must be kept in it, or woe to the unlucky wight upon whom the duty of housekeeping devolves for the day. The bucket must stand on the left-hand side of the tent, in front; the beds must be made at a certain hour and in a certain style–for the coming heroes of America have to be their own chambermaids; while valises and other baggage must be stowed away in as orderly a way as possible. Every morning the tents are inspected, and any lack of neatness or order insures for the chambermaid of the day a misconduct mark. It may be easily conceived that under a regime so strict as this the cadets are particularly careful as to their quarters, inasmuch as one hundred of these marks mean dismissal from the Academy.
“At daybreak the reveille sounds, and the cadets turn out for roll-call. Then come breakfast, guard mounting, and camp and general police duty, which consume the time until 8.30 A.M., from which hour those who are not on guard have the freedom of the Centennial grounds. At 5 P.M. they must fall in for dress parade; at 9 they answer to ‘tattoo’ roll-call, and a few minutes later ‘taps’ or ‘lights out’ consigns them to darkness and quiet.
“West Point Aristocracy.–Small as is this corps, it is still patent that the distinction of caste is very strong. A first-classman–cadet officers are selected from this class–looks down upon lower grade men, while second-class cadets view their juniors with something nearly allied to contempt, and third-class men are amusingly patronizing in their treatment of ‘plebes’ or new-comers. For the first year of their Academy life the ‘plebes’ have rather a hard time of it; but no sooner do they emerge from their chrysalis state than they are as hard upon their unfortunate successors as the third-class men of the year before were upon them.
“The cadets are delighted with their reception and kind treatment in Philadelphia, and look upon their ten days’ visit to the Centennial as a most pleasant break in the monotony of Academy life. That they maintain the reputation of the Academy for gallantry and devotion to the fair sex is evidenced by the presence of numbers of beautiful young ladies in their camp after dress parade every evening. Given, a pretty girl, the twilight of a summer evening, and a youth in uniform, and the result is easily guessed.
“The Cadet Corps is to return to West Point to-morrow morning. There the cadets are to go into camp until September. General Sherman at one time purposed to have them march from this city to the Academy, but it was finally decided that the march would consume time which might be more profitably devoted to drill.
“One of the complaints of the cadets is that in the arrangements for their visit, the Quartermaster’s Department was stricken with a spasm of economy as regarded transportation, and each of the future heroes was limited to the miserably insufficient allowance of ten pairs of white trousers.
“The cadets speak in warmly eulogistic terms of the Seventh New York, to whose kindly attentions, they say, much of their pleasure is due.”
Of this article, which was taken from the Philadelphia Times, I need only say, those “two or four narrow iron cots” and that “occasional chair” existed solely in the imagination of the reporter, as they were nowhere visible within the limits of our encampment.
CHAPTER X.
TREATMENT.
A brave and honorable and courteous man Will not insult me; and none other can.”–Cowper.
“How do they treat you?” “How do you get along?” and multitudes of analogous questions have been asked me over and over again. Many have asked them for mere curiosity’s sake, and to all such my answers have been as short and abrupt as was consistent with common politeness. I have observed that it is this class of people who start rumors, sometimes harmless, but more often the cause of needless trouble and ill-feeling. I have considered such a class dangerous, and have therefore avoided them as much as it was possible. I will mention a single instance where such danger has been made manifest.
A Democratic newspaper, published I know not where, in summing up the faults of the Republican party, took occasion to advert to West Point. It asserted in bold characters that I had stolen a number of articles from two cadets, had by them been detected in the very act, had been seen by several other cadets who had been summoned for the purpose that they might testify against me, had been reported to the proper authorities, the affair had been thoroughly investigated by them, my guilt established beyond the possibility of doubt, and yet my accusers had actually been dismissed while I was retained.* This is cited as an example of Republican rule; and the writer had the effrontery to ask, “How long shall such things be?” I did not reply to it then, nor do I intend to do so now. Such assertions from such sources need no replies. I merely mention the incident to show how wholly given to party prejudices some men can be. They seem to have no thought of right and justice, but favor whatever promotes the aims and interests of their own party, a party not Democratic but hellish. How different is the following article from the Philadelphia North American, of July 7th, 1876:
*This article was cut from a newspaper, and, together with the name of the paper, was posted in a conspicuous place, where other cadets, as well as myself, saw and read it.
“It is very little to the credit of the West Point cadets, a body of young men in whose superior discipline and thoroughly excellent deportment we feel in common with nearly all others a gratified pride, that they should be so ungenerous and unjust as they confess themselves to be in their treatment of the colored boy, who, like themselves, has been made a ward of the nation. We know nothing of this young man’s personal character or habits, but we have seen no unkind criticism of them. For that