Cadet Days. A Story of West Point
Meantime, thanks to the overwhelming interest attaching to the arrival in camp of their comrade, the general, Geordie and the bulk of the plebe class were having a comparatively easy time. They sat or stood guard over their few belongings in the darkness of their tents much of the evening until turned out for roll-call. Occasionally some old cadets would suggest that they "turn out the guard," form ranks, and render the honors of war when Major-General Frazier and his escort marched through the company street. A young gentleman with corporal's chevrons on his sleeves called Mr. Graham's attention to the fact that most of the water-buckets of the old cadets' tents needed replenishing; and Pops said nothing, but took them two at a time to the tank down by the sentry post of Number Three, filled and replaced them. This done, he was invited to Mr. Proctor's tent to see how cadet beds were made for the night, and, under Mr. Proctor's tutelage, spread the blankets, etc., on the wooden floor, and was informed that at the sounding of police-call after reveille in the morning he would receive further instruction in the correct methods of cleaning up and putting in order everything in and around the tents, on reporting in person to Mr. Proctor. In all this Mr. Proctor's manner was grave and dignified. He gave no orders, made no demands; could not be said to have exacted of a new cadet the performance of any menial or degrading task, the penalty for which, as well as for hazing, improperly molesting or interfering with or annoying new cadets, was court-martial and dismissal. Pops accepted his lesson without a word, and when tattoo sounded and the plebes were assembled for the last time that evening, forming on the general parade, as the open space between the right and left wings of camp was termed, he felt that he had got off very easily.
"Now go to your tents; make down your bedding just as you were taught in barracks; do not remove your shirts or drawers or socks; hang up your uniforms where each man can get his own in an instant; put your shoes and caps where you can get them in the dark, if need be; turn in and blow your candle out before the drum strikes 'taps,' at ten. After that, not a sound! Get to sleep as soon as you can, and be ready to form here at reveille." So spake Cadet Corporal Loring, adding, "Break ranks. March!" as required by the drill regulations of the day. And at last poor Benny, ruffled and exhausted, was allowed to go to his tent.
"Oh, I'll get square with that gang! Just wait until I'm on guard some night next week," whispered he to Pops. "You caught it nicely for laughing, Connell. Next time perhaps you won't be so ready to chuckle when they're making fun of a fellow's relatives."
In his general disgust Frazier was ready to growl at anybody who had suffered less than he had. "Misery loves company" the world over. Little time was wasted getting into their blankets for the night, little more in getting to sleep. The last thing heard before the signal for "lights out" was Benny's repetition of the vague threat, "Just wait until I get on guard, then I'll show 'em."
And now followed three or four days of ceaseless drill and duty. The plebes still "herded together," as the old cadets expressed it – formed by themselves for roll-call, drill, and marching to meals. They were granted a half-holiday after the chapel exercises on the glorious Fourth, and Geordie spent the lovely afternoon with Connell and others in a climb to the top of Crow's Nest, and in the enjoyment of one of the most glorious views on the face of the earth. On the 5th their drills in the school of the soldier were reduced to two, in big consolidated squads, and the whole class began instruction at the field battery south of camp at nine each morning, and then were marched to the academic building at half-past ten, to be put through their paces at the hands of the dancing-master.
Immediately after the return of the corps from dinner on the 5th, Cadet Corporal Loring read from the list in his hand some twenty names, Graham's among them, and followed it with the brief order to those named to fall in at two o'clock. Comparing notes, it was found that most of them were members of what had been called the first squad. No one knew what it meant until just before police-call at four o'clock, when the party came marching back to camp, each man burdened with clothing. Frazier's face was a study when Pops and Connell returned to the tent, hung their glistening new uniform coats on the rack, folded their ten pairs of white trousers in the lockers, and tried the effect of the natty dress hats in the little looking-glass. Like many another boy, Benny was learning that there was a wide difference between the official and the family estimate of his military aptitude. The idea that twenty of his class-mates could be put in full uniform and readiness for guard duty and he not one of them was something that had not occurred to him as a possibility.
"Mr. Graham, get ready to march on guard to-morrow morning," said Loring to Pops that evening just before retreat roll-call. "You, too, Mr. Connell."
And that evening the plebes of B Company congregated for an hour about the tent to see the preparations of their first representatives. In some way the word had gone around that Graham was "getting a shine on his gun" the like of which no one had seen before. Frazier, with others of his class, luckless fellows who by unguarded use of their tongues had made themselves conspicuous, were, as usual, entertaining a circle of old cadets, who demanded songs, recitations, dissertations, anything to keep them busy and miserable, and so it was tattoo before Frazier came back to the tent. Almost the last thing given to Geordie by his old friends of the cavalry before he came away from Fort Reynolds was a complete kit for cleaning and polishing arms and accoutrements. Many an hour of his boyhood had been spent watching the men at work on their arms, pouches, boxes, sling-belts, etc., and learning how to put the handsomest polish on either brown steel or black walnut. Buff board, heel ball, beeswax, linseed oil – all their stock in trade he had long since found the use of, and already his rifle and accoutrements had been touched up as new cadets never saw them; but not until this evening had he unboxed his trooper kit; and with a dozen class-mates eagerly looking on, Geordie squatted on his pile of blankets and worked away by candle-light. Ten of the plebe class had been warned for guard, and notified to appear in full uniform so that they might undergo preliminary inspection. Nearly ninety eager boys, still in Quaker gray, swarmed about these distinguished and envied pioneers as they successively arrived. But the greatest interest centred in the B Company contingent. Graham purposely kept to his tent until the moment before the assembly sounded, but even among the yearlings there were nods of approbation and comments of "Well done, plebe," as he came forth, catching the pompon of his shako in the tent-flap as he did so, and blushing not a little in consequence. Connell, too, had patterned by his friend's experience. Their cartridge-boxes had of course been varnished, just as were those of the rest of the corps, but the bronzed bayonet scabbards and their leather attachments wore a gloss and polish new even to the eyes of the old cadets. Luckily for the two the voice of Mr. Loring was heard ordering them to "Step out lively," and they escaped for the moment the scrutiny and question of the yearlings. But the whole plebe class heard a few minutes later Mr. Merrick's "Very well indeed, Mr. Graham," at sight of the sturdy young fellow's glistening equipments and snowy belts. Then he took the rifle which Geordie had tossed up to the "inspection arms" of the old tactics, and with evident surprise in his tone, as well as satisfaction, exclaimed:
"Where did you learn to clean a rifle like this, sir?"
"Out West among the soldiers," was the brief reply.
The commandant, with Lieutenant Allen, came along at the moment to take a look at the first representatives of the new class for guard. As luck would have it, Graham and Connell were about the last of the ten, and were at the left of the squad. All looked neat and trim, and Mr. Merrick had made his selection with care; but the expert eye rarely fails to find something about one's initial appearance in uniform that betrays the plebe. The Colonel made no comment until he reached Connell. Then he turned to Mr. Allen.
"Very neat and soldierly, especially here on the left," he said.
Cadet Merrick, without a word, held up Graham's rifle. The Colonel took it, glanced quickly along the polished weapon, and then at Geordie, standing steadily at attention, with his blue eyes straight to the front.
"You must have seen service, sir," he said, with a smile. "That's a very handsome rifle," and handed it back.
"Who is that young gentleman?" asked he of Lieutenant Allen, as they turned away.
And then – alas for all McCrea's kindly advice! alas for all his own precautions! – our Geordie heard Mr. Allen's reply. It was meant to be for the Colonel alone. It reached, however, the strained and attentive ears of half the plebe contingent. His days of modest retirement were at an end; his time for plague, pestilence, and torment was come.
"That's Mr. Graham, Ralph McCrea's protégé. You've heard of him before, Colonel; that's 'Corporal Pops.'"
The instant the order "Break ranks!" was given, Benny Frazier rushed upon Geordie with delight almost too eager, and loudly hailed him as Corporal Pops. The pet name of his boy days had followed him to the Point.
CHAPTER VI
It takes but little time for a boy to win a nickname in the corps of cadets, though a lifetime may not rid him of it. Physical peculiarities are turned to prompt account, and no account is taken of personal feelings. Certain fixed rules obtain as to the eldest and youngest of each class. They are respectively "Dad" and "Babe." Otherwise a young fellow becomes "Fatty" or "Skinny," "Whity" or "Cuffy," "Beauty" (if ugly), "Curly," or "Pinky," "Shanks" or "Legs," "Bones," etc., if in any way remarkable from an anatomical point of view; "Sissy," "Fanny," "Carrie," if rosy-cheeked and clear-skinned, whether otherwise effeminate or not. All these, more or less, depended upon physical charms or faults, and these are apt to be settled at the start. So, too, such titles as "Parson," "Deacon," "Squire." Others come in as lasting mementos of some unfortunate break in recitation or blunder in drill.
But no term or title is so calculated to convey with it so much of exasperation in the case of the plebe, strange as it may seem, as one which is exclusively military. Just why this should be so it is difficult to explain. The end and aim of West Point existence is the winning of a commission that opens the way to a series, perhaps, of military titles; yet let a plebe be saddled with some such appendage to his name, and all the explanations in the world cannot save him from misconception and annoyance.
From the time a new cadet is fairly in uniform and a member of the battalion, he has perhaps no higher ambition than that of being made a corporal at the end of his year of probation. It is indeed a case where "many are called but few chosen." Four out of five are doomed to disappointment, but the head of the class in scholarship stands not so high in cadet esteem as he who heads the list of officers. To be made senior corporal at the end of the first year, and, as such, acting sergeant-major, or first sergeant throughout camp, in the absence of the Second Class or furlough men, is to be the envied of almost every other yearling; but to have conferred upon one in his plebe camp by common consent the title of "Corporal" carries with it a weight of annoyance little appreciated outside of the gray battalion; and it was Geordie Graham's luck to begin his very first tour of guard duty with this luckless handle – that, too, coupled with the diminutive of "Pops."
Even as he paced up and down the shaded path of Number Three, he could hear the mischievous delight with which the old cadets pointed him out as the new corporal, and could not but hear the somewhat malicious allusions made by his own classmates, some of whom (for there is a heap of human nature in every plebe class that has to be hammered out of it in course of time) were not very sorry to see a cloud of worry gathering over the first of their number to win praise for soldierly excellence, and none were more ready – hard as it may be to say so – than his tent-mate Frazier.
Geordie swallowed it all in silence, vigilantly walking the post assigned him, paying strict attention to the instructions given him every few moments by the officers of the guard. Time and again, as a boy, he had played at walking post in front of the doctor's quarters, punctiliously saluting officers in the daytime, and sternly challenging after dark before being hustled off to bed. All this stood him in good stead now. He had studied the cool, professional way of the regulars on sentry duty, and looked far more at home on post this bright July day than any of his class-mates. Both Lieutenant Allen, who was officer in charge, and Cadet Captain Leonard, who was officer of the day, said, "Very well indeed, sir!" as he repeated the long list of his instructions.
It galled him to think that when gentlemen of their standing should treat him with such respect, and when the general regulations of the army provided that all persons of whatsoever rank in the service should observe respect towards sentries, so many old cadets, lolling in the shade of their tent-flies in Company A, so many class-mates skipping along inside his post on the path leading to the shoeblack's or the water-tank, should make audible comments about the "corporal on post."
His life had been spent on the frontier, where the safety of the camp depended on the vigilance of the sentry, and where no man, high or low, behaved towards a soldier on such duty except with the utmost respect. He remembered what McCrea had told him, that even as a sentry on post – indeed, more so at such times than at any other, so long as he was green and unaccustomed to the duty – it was the habit of the old cadets in the old days to "devil" and torment the plebe in every conceivable way. But Geordie argued that he was not green. He knew the main points of sentry duty as well as any cadet, though nowhere are the finer points, the more intricate tests, so taught as they are at the Military Academy.
It was actually his misfortune that he knew so much. Geordie Graham might have been spared many an hour of trouble and injustice and misrepresentation had he not been imbued with the soldier idea of the sacred character of the sentinel. It was one thing to submit to the unwritten laws and customs of the corps of cadets, so long as they were applied to him in his personal capacity. It was a very different matter, however, in his judgment, to be interfered with or molested as a member of the guard.
His first "two hours on" in the morning passed without material annoyance, for most of the corps were out of camp at drill. At dinner-time, after marching down with the guard, he found his class-mates at the B Company table, to which he had been assigned, awaiting his coming with no little eagerness; but as the yearlings began their quizzing the instant he took his seat and unfolded his napkin, Frazier and Burns were forced to be silent. Connell had remained with the relief posted at camp during the absence of the battalion, so Pops had his fire to undergo all alone. The Third Class men hailed him, of course, by his recently discovered title.
"Ah! the cavalry corporal of Camp Coyote!" exclaimed Mr. Riggs, the nearest of his tormentors. "Corporal, suppose that you found your post suddenly invaded at night, sir, by the simultaneous appearance of the general-in-chief and staff on the east, the commandant and corporal of the guard on the west, the superintendent and a brass-band on the north, Moses and the ten commandments on the south, and the ghost of Horace Greeley on the other side, which would you first advance with the countersign?"
Mr. Woods, another young gentleman whose years at the Academy had conferred upon him the right to catechise, wished to be informed what Corporal Graham's – er – excuse me – Corporal Pops's – course would be in the event of a night attack of Sioux squaws upon his post. A third young gentleman demanded to be informed if he had ever been regularly posted as a sentry before, and to this question Pops truthfully answered "No, sir," and went on eating his dinner as placidly as he could, keeping up a good-natured grin the while, and striving not to be ruffled.
But Frazier, smarting under his own worriments, jealous, too, of the comments that he had overheard from the lips of fair-minded cadets, who could not but notice Graham's easy mastery of sentry duty, was only waiting for a chance to give Pops a dig on his own account. At last the chance seemed to come, and Benny, eager to show old cadets and new comrades both how much more a Beanton High-school cadet knew of sentry duty than a frontier plebe, lucklessly broke forth:
"Nice blunder you made this morning, Graham, turning your back on the officer of the day, instead of facing him and saluting!" And Benny looked triumphantly about him. The other plebes within hearing pricked up their ears, as a matter of course.
"Is that so?" asked Pops. "When was it?"
"Oh, you needn't pretend you didn't see him! I saw you; so did Green here. Didn't I, Green? I spoke of it at the time. You looked right at him as he came around from A Company street past the adjutant's tent, and instead of stopping and presenting arms you deliberately turned your back on him, and stood facing Fort Clinton while he passed along behind you."
Alas, poor Benny! Even yet he had not begun to learn how dangerous a thing was a little learning. Graham's reply was perfectly quiet and placid.
"I was taught this morning that when an officer passed along in rear of the post without attempting to cross it, simply to stand at a carry, facing outwards. I never heard of its being done any other way."
"Ho, ho!" laughed Benny. "Why, the very first thing a soldier's taught is to look towards the officer he salutes, and never to turn his back. Ain't it so, Mr. Cross?" he asked, confidently and appealingly of the corporal of the guard, who had arisen, listening with a grin on his face while pulling on his gloves.
"You have a heap to learn yet, young man," was the withering reply. "A sentry always faces outward in camp when an officer passes by, even if he passes behind his post, in which case he doesn't even salute. I gave Mr. Graham those orders myself, sir."
Pops was wise enough to hold his peace, and never admit that he knew it all before; nor did he join in the burst of laughter at Benny's expense. Frazier, indignant, discomfited, shamed again before them all, glared wrathfully at his tent-mate, as though it were all his fault.
But it would never do to let a plebe come off with such flying colors, argued Mr. Woods, of the yearlings. One after another, insistently, he pressed Geordie with all manner of points in sentry duty, and all that were not broad burlesque were answered correctly, though it was evident that Pops was getting annoyed. At last, just before the order to rise was given, the yearling leaned half-way across the table.
"Now, suppose I was to come, sir, in the dead of night to your sentry post, and demand, as your superior officer, that you give me up your gun, what would you do?"
There was strained silence among the plebes for a moment. Geordie's blue eyes, blazing a little, were looking straight into the frowning face of his tormentor.
"Do you mean without the countersign? Without being an officer of the guard?"
"Exactly, sir. Simply as your superior officer – as an old cadet to a plebe, sir."
The answer came in low tone, but without a quaver, and every man at the table heard it.
"I'd let you have it, butt foremost, between the eyes."
The sudden order for Company B to rise, in the voice of the first captain, put instant end to this exciting colloquy. Foster gave his leg a loud slap of delight. Even Benny rejoiced in the display of what he called "Graham's grit." Mr. Woods made a spring as though to come around to Graham's side of the table, but Cadet Captain Leonard, officer of the day, was standing not forty feet away, and his attention was evidently attracted. A class-mate seized Woods by the arm.
"Not here, not now, Jimmy," he cautioned. "We'll 'tend to that plebe later."
Before the guard broke ranks on its return to camp the battalion had scattered, and the yearlings of Company B were in excited consultation. A plebe had threatened to strike Woods, was the explanation, and in the unwritten code that has obtained at the Point from time immemorial that meant fight.
"Nothing can be done till he marches off guard to-morrow, Woods," said the First Class man to whom the matter was referred. "That'll be time enough to settle it."
But meantime Geordie was destined to undergo further experiences.
That morning at guard-mounting the junior officer of the guard inspecting the rear rank had very rigidly scrutinized every item of Graham's dress and equipment, handing back his rifle with a look of disappointment, as though he really wanted to find something he could condemn. Even a junior cadet lieutenant seems to consider it a mistake to be compelled to approve of anything a plebe can do.
But presently along came the adjutant, to whom, as was customary, those old cadets of the guard who desired to "try for colors" tossed up a second time their rifles, inviting his inspection. Trying for colors used to be quite a ceremony in itself. The color-line in camp at West Point extends along the front of what is called the body of camp and parallel with its western side. It is the line along which the battalion holds morning and evening parade, and along which all four companies stack their arms immediately after "troop." The color-bearer furls the flag, and lays it upon the centre stacks; a sentry is immediately posted, and there the colors and the stacks remain until 4 P.M., unless it should rain. All persons going in or out of camp must pass around the flanks of the line, and in so doing raise the cap or helmet in salute to the flag. It is the duty of the sentry on colors to see that this is done. Even civilians who may be invited into camp by officers are expected to show the same deference.
Now an ordinary member of the guard has to walk post eight hours during his tour of twenty-four, two hours on and four off, but the color sentries had only the time from about 8.45 A.M. to 4 P.M. to cover – less than two and a half hours apiece – and at night they were permitted to go to their own tents and sleep, while their comrades of the guard were walking post in the dew and darkness or storm and rain; for never for an instant, day or night, are the sentry posts around cadet camp vacated, by authority at least, from the hour of the corps' marching in late in June until the fall of the snowy tents the 28th of August. It was a "big thing," therefore, to win one of the colors at guard-mounting.
Twenty-one cadet privates marched on every day, eighteen to man the ordinary posts and three the color-line, these three being selected by the adjutant from those whose rifle, equipment, uniform, etc., were in the handsomest condition. Keen was the rivalry, and simply immaculate at times the appearance of the contestants. The adjutant would not infrequently force a dainty white handkerchief into all manner of crevices about the rifle, or corners of the cartridge-box, wherever dust or rust might collect, and a speck would ruin a fellow's chances.
On this particular morning, however, Mr. Glenn, the adjutant, was not thoroughly satisfied with his color-men. He found some fault with two of those whose rifles were tossed up, and there were only four all told. And so it happened he had made the circuit of the front rank without finding a satisfactory third man, nor had he better success on the right of the rear rank. Coming to Graham, and looking him keenly over from the tip of his pompon down to the toe of his shoes, the adjutant's soldierly face lighted up with interest.
"What is your name, sir?" he asked.
"Graham."
"Toss up your rifle."
Geordie obeyed, conscious that his knees and lips were trembling a little. Glenn took the beautifully-polished weapon, the interest on his face deepening.
