A plebe at West Point

Front matter

9 ! \

<=>0

\ 0 ^.

Chapter I Reporting At The Academy

“ Candidate Douglas Atwell reports to the adjutant, sir.”

An erect, stalwart boy stood with hand raised in respectful salute before Captain Cole, the adjutant of the United States Military Academy at West Point, N. Y. The young man’s manner was that of one trained in the ways of the military profession, and the adjutant glanced sharply up from his desk at the lad before him. Never before had he known that office to receive a correct report from a candidate, yet here was one who seemed to completely understand the customs of the service.

“ Have you your papers, Mr. Atwell ? ” said the adjutant, as his eyes rapidly measured the candidate and involuntarily expressed approval.

“ Yes, sir,” ‘said Douglas, as he drew from the inside pocket of his coat a large stamped envelope, and handed it to the adjutant. The latter hastily read the official contents, which appointed Douglas Atwell, of New York, a cadet at large to the United States Military Academy, subject to the prescribed physical and mental examination, and directed him to report at West Point, N. Y., on the 6th day of June.

And the great day had arrived at last — the day which was to decide Douglas Atwell’s career. The boy’s heart beat anxiously as he thought of the interests at stake for him, for within an hour he knew that he would be standing before a board of surgeons at the cadet hospital to be pronounced fit or unfit physically for service with the corps of cadets of the United States Military Academy. In spite of his growing anxiety, however, our young candidate stood erect, silent, alert, his well-fitting coat buttoned throughout like a military blouse, his heels together, and his hands hanging motionless by his sides.

“ Very well, Mr. Atwell,” said the adjutant, as he finished his examination of the lad’s credentials, and handed him a sealed envelope. “ Now present this to Mr. Ward in the room directly across the hall.”

Once more Douglas’ hand rose in salute, and he faced about and stepped briskly out into the hall, where Sergeant Woods, the attendant at headquarters, stood waiting to usher the next candidate into the presence of the adjutant.

The eyes of the two young men met as they passed each other in the door, and Douglas noted a fine, handsome fellow of about eighteen years, unusually well built on the lines of a first-class athlete. His coat lay open, revealing a rich, highly colored necktie which blended well with the flush in his young cheeks, and his whole appearance indicated a young man of easy means and good environment. He had drawn a kid glove from his right hand, and Douglas started as he noticed a visiting card between his fingers bearing the name, Roderick O’Connor, and realized that this candidate was preparing to make a social call upon the adjutant, and greet him with a hearty hand-shake. Douglas had no opportunity to answer the questioning glance of the

IO candidate as the latter was most unceremoniously handed into the adjutant’s office, and Douglas could only hope that the handsome fellow would accept his first lesson with the proper spirit. His own affairs, moreover, commanded his immediate attention, and he glanced about for the room occupied by Mr. Ward, to whom he had been ordered to report with the letter from the adjutant.

The sign on the door through which he had just passed read, “ The Adjutant’s Office,” while the adjacent door bore the words, “ The Superintendent.” “ Right in here, sir,” said Sergeant Woods, as Douglas faced the line of rooms on the opposite side of the hall, “ this is Mr. Ward’s room.”

The hall was already thronged with candidates, who anxiously watched Douglas as he stepped inside. Here his name, date of birth, residence — all the data necessary to a complete identification of every candidate, were duly recorded in the official records of the military academy, and then Douglas was told to step outside and await further -^instructions. As he emerged from the >or* v Roderick O’Connor, who had followed ohn

AT WEST POINT n

into the adjutant’s office, again awaited his turn.

“ Any worse in there than in the other place ? ” he asked with a humorous twinkle in his steel blue eyes, as he twisted his unused card into a ball and thrust it into his pocket.

“ No,” said Douglas, “ only your history is wanted.”

“ Thank goodness. That was awful,” he whispered, with a wave of his hand toward the adjutant’s door, behind which a tall, strapping Texan was striving “ to make a strong impression.”

Douglas seated himself upon the wooden bench which extended all the way around the hall, and waited for further instructions, while candidate Roderick O’Connor stepped inside to furnish his official history.

The group of candidates already seated and waiting their turn were drawn from the most remote and widely separated regions, and represented the most diverse financial conditions. Their ages ranged from seventeen to twenty-t^o, and their faces ran from that of ‘ le boy with his first shave to that of the full-

I 2

grown man. Douglas, now in his nineteenth year, found himself beside a six-foot son of Missouri, whose corpulent form was arrayed in a flowing Prince Albert suit, while he ostentatiously smoothed down the silk of his glistening high hat.

“ My name's Durkin, of Missouri,” said he over his shoulder to Douglas ; “ what's yourn ? ”

“ Atwell,” said Douglas.

“ Reckon you’ve heard 'bout the hazing and mean treatment they give to the plebes here?”

“ I've heard something of it,” answered Douglas.

“ Goin’ to give in to it? ” demanded Durkin in a loud tone, as he sat up and squared back his shoulders.

“ I think so,” answered Douglas quietly.

“ Well, I ain’t. If they don't treat me right, I'll fight, and I can tell you in one guess who’ll get licked. Reckon you’re right in sayin' that you'll give in,” continued Durkin patronizingly, “ because you ain't big enough to fight it out ; but if they pester me, I tell you I'll lick 'em.”

J 3

Durkin’s voice had risen until it was loud enough to be heard by every candidate in the hall ; it was also loud enough to be heard by Cadet Corporal Swayne, who had suddenly appeared at the head of the stairs, and now stood among the candidates. His fearless blue eyes were searching the Missourian from head to foot with the cool, critical scrutiny of a cavalryman deciding on the merits of a horse, and Durkin visibly started as his astonished gaze met the eyes of the little corporal. Indeed, Cadet Corporal Swayne’s bearing commanded instant admiration and respect, for no man in the corps of cadets possessed a more magnificent physique or knew the spirit of his calling better. His full-dress coat followed his form like perfect kid without crease or wrinkle, his bell buttons shone like new gold, while his immaculate white gloves and creased duck trousers completed the most perfect costume that these awe-struck candidates had ever beheld.

Cadet Corporal Swayne slowly turned his eyes from Durkin’s face, and walked through the group of candidates as utterly indifferent to their presence and curious gaze as if they

H had been the wooden fixtures on the wall. He handed a card to Sergeant Woods, spoke a few words in a low tone, and a moment later the sergeant swung open the door of the superintendent’s office, and Cadet Corporal Swayne disappeared within.

“ I wonder how many million years it takes that planet to complete its orbit,” whispered Roderick O’Connor, as he regained his breath after the cadet had disappeared. “ He probably touched the earth long enough to hear your message to Mars, Mr. Durkin,” continued the handsome youth, as he cast an amused glance at the agitated Missourian. The situation might have become embarrassing indeed for Durkin, had not a soldier orderly in natty blue suit approached Sergeant Woods with the information that the surgeons at the cadet hospital awaited the arrival of the first detachment of candidates.

Douglas Atwell’s heart leaped as he heard his name called, and in a moment he and ten comrades were following the orderly down the iron stairs of the headquarters building.

“ You are first to go to the cadet store to deposit your money, and then to the hospital l S for physical examination,” said the orderly, as he led the way around the north end of the Academic Building, in front of cadet barracks, and turned toward the treasurer’s office.

“ Let me have all your money,” said the treasurer, as Douglas stepped in front of the window, and promptly handed over one hundred dollars, the amount required from every candidate, together with a small amount of change.

“ Next,” said the treasurer, as he handed out a receipt for the exact amount deposited, and Roderick O’Connor responded, counting out one hundred and fifty dollars from a roll of bills, and starting to return the rest to his pocket.

“ Let me have that too, Mr. O’Connor ; I want every cent you have,” said the treasurer.

“ Why, I need some spending money,” said the candidate, looking up in surprise.

“ Not a cent, sir ; cadets are not allowed to have money,” returned the treasurer, and Roderick O’Connor reluctantly handed over the rest of his funds, with the remark, “ I thought I would have to keep something to pay for carriages and flowers for the hops.”

The treasurer didn’t smile, but a very fat clerk at the end of the room sat back in his chair and shook with inward mirth.

In a few minutes the whole group concluded their affairs with the treasurer, marched to the hospital, stripped off their clothing, and sat wrapped in blankets awaiting their summons to the examining room.

Douglas sat with Roderick O’Connor, whom he had already found a charming and genial personality, and while a comrade stood before the surgeons within, Roderick convulsed his young friend with the story of his experience with the adjutant.

“ You know,” he laughed, “ I was anxious to make a first-class start, so I stepped in with a merry 1 Good-morning, general, my name is Roderick O’Connor, Columbia University, class of ’9 — ,’ and I held out my hand for a friendly grasp. I thought it as little as he could do for a stranger, don’t you know, but that potentate — he must be a king at least — did not even look up for a full minute. I thought may be the poor fellow was deaf, so I squared around in front and tried my salutation again.

l 7

“ This time something seemed to catch and he raised his eyes, but oh, mother ! such a stare. After looking me over from head to foot as if examining a set of pigeon-holes, he raised his eyebrows, twisted his moustache, and murmured, ‘ Your papers, please/

“ Right there I gathered that I was not supposed to be making a social call, so waited meekly until I was told ‘ to step outside/ ” The conversation was interrupted by the call of the hospital steward for the “ next candidate,” and Douglas sprang up, flung off his blanket, and walked into the presence of the surgeons. It required but a few minutes to determine the physical fitness of this stalwart boy for the military service, and Douglas emerged from the ward, his heart leaping with joy that he had successfully passed through the first ordeal at West Point.

“ I’m to take you over to barracks, sir,” said the soldier orderly, as Douglas finished dressing, and as our young friend with several other successful candidates followed the orderly down-stairs, he noticed the tears streaming down the face of one who had failed. He was the son of a retired army officer, had spent his entire life in preparation for this day, but in one moment the hopes of a lifetime were blasted ; for examinations, physical and mental, are conducted at West Point “ without partiality, favor, or affection.” It was impossible, however, to do anything for the unsuccessful candidate, and Douglas moved along with his comrades, down the stone walk, through the east sally-port of the Academic Building, and into the area of barracks.

Before the eyes of this anxious group rose the gray stone walls of the cadet barracks on two sides of the quadrangle, completed on the east by the Academic Building, and on the south by the cadet guard-house. Here generations of cadets had come and gone, here were the scenes hallowed by the presence of Grant, Sherman, Sheridan, Lee, Johnston, all gone to the soldier’s grave, but still present in the spirit and traditions of the academy, and here candidate Douglas Atwell stood, as they had stood, at rigid attention before a cadet lieutenant to whom he endeavored to report his arrival.

The corps of cadets was already in camp across the cavalry plain about eight hundred l 9 yards distant, thus leaving barracks exclusively for the use of the “ plebes ” or “ beasts ” as the newcomers are called by cadet custom. Only Cadet Lieutenants Littlefield and Rowell, Cadet Corporals Swayne, Kendrick, and Mallory, were retained in barracks to take charge of the plebe class and drill them into shape.

“ Read that paper on the wall,” said Cadet Corporal Kendrick, as he lined up his first squad of candidates in the hall of the tenth division of cadet barracks, with Douglas Atwell at the head of the line. The paper ran as follows :

(1) Read, and obey as you read.

(2) Button your coat throughout.

(3) Place your heels together, turn out your toes at an angle of sixty degrees, stand erect, head up, chest thrown out, shoulders back, eyes to the front, hands hanging naturally by the sides, little fingers at the seams of the trousers. This is the position of the soldier, and is always to be assumed by the cadet in the presence of his superior officer.

(4) Never speak to a superior officer until you are spoken to.

(5) Refer to yourself and all other cadets and candidates as Mr. So-and-So.

(6) Add “ sir ” to all official communications.

(7) Now face to the front, and await further instructions.

“ Have you finished ? ” asked Cadet Corporal Mallory, as Douglas obeyed the final injunction of paragraph seven, and made way for another candidate.

“ Yes, sir,” said Douglas, his eyes straight to the front, and observing carefully every detail of the soldier’s position.

“ What is your name ? ”

“ Mr. Atwell, sir.”

“ What state do you come from ? ”

“ New York, sir.”

“ Tin soldier? ”

“ No, sir.”

“ Then where did you bone (learn to be) so military ? ”

Douglas hesitated. “ Step out with an answer, mister,” said the cadet officer testily.

“ In the army, sir,” said Douglas.

“ Oh-ho,” exclaimed the corporal, “ Sergeant Douglas Atwell, Company M, — th Infantry, a hero from the Philippines, who won his way to West Point by being captured by a Filipino chieftain and subsequently capturing the chief. Is that about right, Mr. Atwell ? ”

Douglas remained silent, restraining every sign of approval or of disapproval of the cadet’s remarks.

“Well,” said the latter, smiling, “ you are not required to answer incriminating questions, so step inside and report your heroic presence to Mr. Littlefield. The whole academy awaits you, sir.”

The sound of footsteps on the porch now attracted Mallory’s attention, and he whirled about as a second group of candidates arrived from the hospital. Among them was a tall, slender man, dressed throughout in a suit of severe, ministerial black, and armed with a heavy walking stick of polished oriental wood. A black slouch hat rested gracefully upon his long, wavy, black hair, while his mellow dark eyes, thin, aquiline nose, and wavy, black beard, completed the general features of a face of unusual beauty and dignity.

At sight of him, Mallory’s manner instantly changed to one of extreme official courtesy as he stepped out upon the porch to greet the new arrival.

“ Good-morning, sir,” said he. “ I regret that we cannot allow you to come into barracks, but you will be at perfect liberty to see the boy at any time that he is not on duty,” and Mallory shot a quick glance toward a slender, dark-eyed stripling who timidly awaited the will of his superiors.

“ Ah beg yo’ pahdon, sah ” began the

dark-eyed gentleman uneasily.

“Just one moment, sir,” interrupted Mallory, and he hurriedly ushered the rest of the group into the hall of barracks, and returned to the gentleman with the remark, “ I believe you come from the south, sir.”

“ Yes, sah, my name’s Jacques Lafitte Bruyard, of Baton Rouge, Louisiana, sah, and ”

“ I’m happy to meet you, Mr. Bruyard,” said Cadet Mallory, extending his hand, “ but if you will excuse me I will return to look after your son and the other candidates.”

“ Ah beg yo’ pahdon, sah,” said Mr. Bruyard, as his voice rose in excitement, “ ah haven’t got any son, sah. Ah’m a candidate, sah.”

2 3

“ What ! ” exclaimed Cadet Mallory — but he could say no more, and ducked into an adjacent room, where, beyond the observation of candidates or comrades, he laughed till his sides ached.

“ Stop that laughing in ranks,” commanded Cadet Kendrick with as much severity as he could muster, and while Douglas reported to Cadet Lieutenant Littlefield within, candidate Jacques Lafitte Bruyard, already dubbed “ the patriarch of Baton Rouge,” was hauled up to “ read that paper and obey as he read.”

Douglas had no difficulty in making a satisfactory report to Cadet Lieutenant Littlefield, for his experience in the army, to which Mallory had referred, gave him an advantage which his comrades would acquire only after months of hard work at the academy.

“ Swayne,” said the young cadet officer, as he registered Douglas’ name in his book of candidates, “ please take Mr. Atwell up to room No. 55, over in the fourth division.”

Douglas turned his eyes neither to the right nor the left as he followed Cadet Corporal Swayne through the line of sadly worried candidates, and bounded up two flights of stairs to a “ plain room ” on the second floor of the fourth division. There were twelve divisions for the accommodation of the entire corps of cadets, each division having a separate hall and stairs, each floor having four rooms opening upon the hall. The rooms on the inside of the quadrangle are known as “ area rooms/’ while those looking out to the north upon the beautiful parade or plain, are called “ plain rooms,” and to one of the latter Douglas Atwell had been conducted.

“ You will draw bedding, etc., later, Mr. Atwell,” said Cadet Corporal Swayne. “ In the meantime, remain in your room unless you hear one of the cadet officers in the hall below turning out the candidates. Then come down-stairs at a run, and fall in as lively as you can.”

“ Very well, sir,” said Douglas, as he stood as still as a statue, his traveling-bag in one hand, his hat in the other, and felt gratified that the peerless Swayne had no fault to find with him.

Then the door closed and Douglas was alone in a bare room, the home of a West Point cadet. Two iron bunks without bed-

2 5 ding, separated from each other by the partition wall of a small alcove ; two wooden tables, a wash-stand, and a clothes-press, were the only articles of furniture in the room.

Douglas walked slowly across the bare floor, but the sound of his feet seemed to echo harshly through the lonely barracks, so he tiptoed to the alcove, sat down upon the edge of the bed, and pushed his small traveling-bag into an adjacent corner. This, together with the clothes he carried, was all he had in the world. The money which he deposited that morning at the treasurer’s office had been borrowed from a friend, and that debt must remain unpaid until he could win his commission as an officer in the army and earn the money to pay it. He had traveled ten thousand miles in the hope of becoming a West Point cadet, had left the ranks of the Regular Army in the Philippines where, for his gallant service in the campaign against the Insurgents, he had been granted a cadetship at large to the United States Military Academy.

Ex-Sergeant Douglas Atwell rested his chin upon his hand, and gazed abstractedly at the bare, cheerless walls of the alcove. His mind traveled back across the wide Pacific to the jungles of bamboo and nipa, and he was a soldier again in the ranks of the khaki-clad fighting men beneath a blistering tropical sun. The bare walls of the alcove gradually gave place to a trench upon the banks of the Quingua, and Sergeant Douglas Atwell saw himself fighting desperately for life against a Moorish renegade, the most savage boloman in all Luzon ; saw Bill Smathers die to save his life, Bill Smathers, one of the bravest soldiers that ever carried a rifle. As these things passed in mental review, there was but one bitter memory — that of a soldier who had striven to ruin his reputation, who had, he believed, been false to his flag.

The young soldier candidate was startled from his reverie by the sound of rapidly approaching footsteps, and the angry tones of a voice. He jumped to rigid attention as the door of the room was flung violently open and Cadet Corporal S wayne ushered in another candidate. Almost purple with rage and embarrassment, the candidate stood at attention, trembling in every limb, as the corporal walked about him and delivered such a hurricane of reprimand and rebuke as Douglas had never heard even from the veteran tongue of Sergeant Jim Casey of the Regular Army. The language of the corporal was perfectly proper and strictly official, but the sarcasm and bitterness of it were beyond comparison.

Exactly what the unfortunate candidate had done to merit so severe a reprimand Douglas did not know, but the general trend of the rebuke indicated that the candidate had demanded the right to select his own roommate on account of some special merit, or his social position, and that he objected to “ being housed with any vulgar country lout that might happen to be a classmate.” Certain it was that the arrogance of the candidate’s remarks could not exceed the superb indignation of the corporal’s words as he majestically strode from the room, leaving the astonished candidate choking with wrath he dare not voice.

As the door closed, Douglas turned his eyes for the first time toward the candidate, and his heart jumped as he recognized Leland

Carlyle Jackson, ex-private of Company M, — th Infantry, with which Douglas had served in the Philippine Islands. Here was the one man in the world whom he desired to avoid, but fate had not only decreed that they should be classmates, but had also placed them in the same room, from which it was impossible to escape without the sanction of superior authority.

Jackson flung aside his dress-suit case with a bitter exclamation of anger as the sound of the corporal's steps died away in the lower hall, and turned his flushed face toward Douglas Atwell. As their eyes met Jackson drew back with a start and the blood left his face.

“ How do you do, Jackson ? How are you?” said Douglas quietly, after a moment’s constrained silence.

“ What are you doing here?” demanded Jackson with a great effort at calmness.

“ I am here to enter the academy if I can pass the examination,” answered Douglas.

“ Who appointed you ? ”

“ The President.”

“ The President ! I thought you were here as a dog robber /’ 1 sneered Jackson, as he turned and gazed out of the window across the plain to the white tents where the corps of cadets lay encamped.

1 * ‘ Dog robber ’ ’ is a term of contempt used by enlisted men to designate a soldier who performs service for an officer.

Chapter II First Experiences

Douglas Atwell had come to West Point determined to control his feelings and accept situations as he found them, so he held back the bitter words that rose to his lips at Jackson’s insulting remark. Any rejoinder might lead to a personal encounter, for the antecedent relations of Douglas Atwell and Leland C. Jackson were such as to invite serious results at any time. It was a great relief to Douglas, therefore, when he heard a ringing call through the halls of cadet barracks, “ Candidates turn out promptly.”

Douglas seized his hat, carefully buttoned his coat throughout, and dashed down-stairs as rapidly as he could run, while Jackson continued to gaze leisurely out of the window. During his ordeal with Cadet Corporal Swayne he had received the regular instructions of a candidate, but his mind was too much disturbed to grasp their import. He had a vague 3 °

3 1 impression that he was expected to “ turn out promptly/’ but in the army, five minutes were always allowed between the first call and assembly, and he assumed that it ought to be the same at West Point. At any rate, he felt that he could not participate in the vulgar, undignified haste of Atwell and the other “ beasts ” in the halls below.

In their efforts to obey the instructions of the morning, to be prompt, the majority of these “ beasts ” were tumbling into ranks in the most grotesque manner when Douglas reached the “ area of barracks ” and took his place in the rear rank on the left of the line.

Cadet Corporal Swayne, the acting first sergeant for the candidates, was standing erect and vigilant in front of the centre of the line, the very personification of dignity and military precision, while his assistants, Kendrick and Mallory, were supervising the formation of the line on the asphalt walk running east and west across the area of barracks. Douglas had scarcely reached his place when the sound of running steps was heard behind him, and some one bolted violently into his back, knocking him against his front ran|: file, and sending the latter’s hat spinning to the earth. In fact the whole left of the line was thrown into confusion by the impetus of the blow.

“ What are you trying to celebrate, mister?” demanded Cadet Corporal Kendrick as he hastened toward the scene of disorder, and was soon followed by Mallory, likewise highly incensed over this flagrant disregard of military propriety.

“ What is your name, sir?” said Corporal Mallory.

“ J-jack Oakley,” giggled the candidate.

“ Sir? ” echoed both the cadet officers in indignant tones.

“ Jack Oakley — that’s my name,” said the boy innocently, as he glanced merrily from face to face, and thrust his hands into his trousers pockets.

“ Take your hands out of your pockets,” commanded the senior corporal. “ Put your hat on straight. Keep your eyes to the front, and stop that smiling, sir. Now get into ranks — not there, not there,” continued the corporal with increasing emphasis, as little Oakley jumped in behind Douglas Atwell, thus forming a third rank all by himself.

“ Stand right here, Mr. Oakley, right here, sir, do you understand ? ”

“Oh, all right — I thought ”

“ Never mind what you thought. Get into ranks, sir.” And Mr. Oakley was finally stopped in the proper place. The same result might have been accomplished by taking Mr. Oakley by the arm and forcibly depositing him in ranks, but it is contrary to cadet custom to lay hands on a candidate.

This was the first formation of the prospective class of 190-, and few there were in that line who had not committed some violation of that paper which all had been commanded that morning to “ read and obey.”

Acting First-Sergeant Swayne was now calling the roll, “ Adamson, Addison, Atwell, etc.,” and Douglas heard the characteristic responses of the various states, “ He-o, he-ah, lie-ere, hy-er, he-e,” for there is nothing which betrays the peculiarities of the tongue more surely than the effort to say “ here ” in a loud and sonorous tone.

The list had reached the J’s and Douglas heard “ Jackson — Jackson — Jackson ”

“ Mr. Atwell, where is Mr. Jackson ? ” said Cadet Corporal Mallory, who was still hovering near little Oakley to keep that youth in good order.

“ I left him in his room, sir,” said Douglas.

Cadet Mallory was bounding up the steps in front of the fourth division when Jackson appeared on the porch, very spick and span, having utilized the time in drawing on a pair of fine kid gloves ; and the words of Cadet Mallory would be worthy of a place in this record were it not for a diversion in another direction.

Like many inexperienced candidates, Durkin, the big Missourian, had discovered from the window of the eleventh division of cadet barracks that he was getting an “ absence.” He had already learned in a never-to-be-forgotten manner some of the fundamental principles of discipline as taught by cadet officers, and he was still trying to decide whether he would not “ lick the next one that pestered him, just to show them what kind of a man he was,” when he heard the roll call and discovered “ that formation ” going on in the area of barracks. And the thought came flaming through Durkin's mind that his class was forming to be sworn in, and that they were leaving him out just for spite. Durkin had come all the way from Missouri to take that oath, and he did not propose to be left by trickery. Snapping up his silk hat, he started down-stairs at a terrific pace, and the whole line could hear him coming.