Cadet Days. A Story of West Point

And Benny's story corroborated much of poor Doyle's. Jennings had halted him down by the water-tank that wretched night in camp, pointed out how Pops was being shown too much favoritism and getting the "big head." Jennings put him up to getting Graham's rifle – a matter that was easily accomplished in the darkness and the deserted street of Company B; but he never meant it for anything more than a joke, though he was jealous of Graham's success, and did think that he was having too much partiality shown him. Then when Jennings told him to take the rusty rifle to the tent in place of the new one, he wanted to back out; but it was too late. Jennings bullied and threatened him with exposure and dismissal for stealing, etc. – threatened even then to call the corporal of the guard and have him taken to the guard-house, caught in the act. He was bewildered and terrified, and ended by doing exactly as he was told. Then came that dreadful day of investigation, followed later by Jennings's arrest; and then Jennings told him of their desperate plight, and bade him wire for his father to come at once. Jennings told him what to say to his father, and wrote a letter, setting forth what would happen if the drum-boy could not be "fixed," and suggesting how to fix him. His father was utterly dismayed at the scrape that Benny was in, and accepted all Jennings's statements. He did not, of course, consult any of the officers, but carried out everything proposed to the letter. For the time being the boys were saved, but within another year Benny learned from the other drum-boy, Reilly, the one with whom he had had the trouble, that Doyle had let the cat out of the bag. Then he had to bribe Reilly. Then Jennings, too, levied on him, and his father later on, while on furlough; and after his father's death poor Benny's life was one succession of torments. Doyle, Reilly, and Jennings, too, "bled" and threatened him time and again, until in his desperation he sought to make a clean breast of it all to Graham. That night Jennings suspected his object, overtook him in the hall, seized and choked and carried him back, and nearly finished him by strangulation before rescue came. Benny was ready to stand trial – suffer any punishment; but by this time the poor fellow's prostration and penitence, his mother's tears and anxiety, and the fact that he had been throughout the entire history of the affair only a cat's-paw, coupled with the reports of the surgeons that he was in no condition to face a trial, all prevailed. It was late in February before he was sufficiently recovered to be moved about, and then sick leave of absence was granted, and he with his devoted mother left for Nassau. He had parted company with the old class for good and all, and was ordered to report in June and join the class below.

March, spring drills, spring rides, and the election of hop managers for First Class camp, all were upon them again before Benny and his strange and unhappy experiences had ceased to be the universal topic of conversation. Geordie had wonderful letters to write that month, and there had been an interchange of missives between two grateful, prayerful women, one letter leading to another, until now Mrs. Graham's weekly budget to her big boy was full of Mrs. Frazier and the sweet, womanly, motherly letters she wrote. April came, and, despite his modest declination of such an honor, Geordie found himself chosen among the foremost of the nine hop managers for the coming camp. More than that, while study had become so habitual to him that he had risen slowly but steadily even in the most difficult portions of applied mathematics, his progress in chemistry and kindred topics had been still more marked. But, better than all, he was now in the midst of a course wherein no one in all the class was more thoroughly at home. From boyhood, drill and drill regulations, as they are called in this day – "tactics," as they were in his – were matters of everyday acquaintance. He knew cavalry drill "from a to izzard," and the infantry tactics through the school of the battalion thoroughly and well. But all the same he left no stone unturned, no paragraph unstudied, before each day's recitation. Here, at least, were subjects in which he could "face the music" week after week and fairly triumph. And to the delight of Connell, Winn, Ames, Ross, and the first section men generally, it was seen that Geordie was "maxing" steadily through, never losing a single tenth in infantry.

"Go it, Coyote, go it!" said Connell. "By jimminy! there isn't a man in the class that would begrudge you the first place if you can get it." It was even queried whether Ames, to whom maxing in anything now came as easy as failure to some boys, had not deliberately "slouched off" a couple of points so as to secure to Graham first mark in infantry; though, just to make sure of his own place in general standing, he stuck to a solid line of 3's in artillery, Pops following close behind. So far as marks were concerned, therefore, Geordie was certain of high rank in the general subject, for he was as thorough in cavalry as in infantry. Battery books alone presented any novelty to him, and it was conceded that the June examination could not change his prospects.

Meantime, too, as the spring wore on, the members of the Graduating Class seemed to feel that it was due to themselves to behave towards Graham with marked cordiality and regard. Anybody failing in this respect might render himself liable to suspicion of being in some way connected with the old Jennings clique; and no greater shame attached to any member of the corps now than that he had at any time been an associate of that fellow, or even guided by his opinion. On the other hand, to be pointed out as the one man in the corps who had "knocked out" that redoubtable middle-weight was honor that overtopped the chevrons of half the senior class. No one doubted that there were other fellows who could have "bested" the representative of the "Sanguinary Second," but he had wisely refrained from giving them opportunity. Feeling sure of Pops, he ventured once too often, and down went the star of his glory.

May, with its sunshine and showers and long languorous days – "the days of spring fever and spring fights," as the cadets used to say – found the relations between Geordie and his company more and more cordial. All through the year, with absolute impartiality and quiet force, he had done his duty to the best of his ability, and Connell, with all his pride in "old D," was the last to claim for it a superiority over the color company. Bend declared he never had to bother his head about it at all. He marched it out to parade or inspection, but his first sergeant looked to the discipline. Among the officers of the tactical department, too, there was no lack of appreciation of the way in which "McCrea's plebe" had won his way up the ladder of promotion, and the relative position of the cadet officers for the coming summer was already a problem over which the corps was indulging in much speculation and the commandant in no little thought. The two finest positions, as has been said, are those of first captain and adjutant. The former commands the battalion in the mess-hall and on its way to and from the same, while the latter has the most conspicuous part to play at parade, guard-mounting, and the like. The first captain is assigned to the right flank, Company A, and his responsibilities are great. He requires dignity and strength of character beyond the other officers. The adjutant should be a model in bearing, carriage, voice, command, but his duties are more picturesque than formidable. As a rule, these high offices – the captaincies, adjutancy, etc. – are given to cadets whose scholarship and class standing are also high; for in the greater number of cases soldierly ability and character are there to be found. Yet it often happens that the head of the First Class is only a private in the ranks, and the senior captain or the adjutant comes from the other end of the line. When graduation is close at hand, however, the commandant makes out a list of the recommendations for the coming year, and this he submits to the superintendent. His wishes generally carry all possible weight.

It rarely happens that the first captain is selected from outside the first sergeants of the previous year, and in four cases out of five the office goes to the first sergeant of Company A. The sergeant-major in the same degree is looked upon as a sort of legitimate heir to the adjutancy. He has served as senior non-commissioned officer for a year, and yet has had no opportunity of command other than the few seconds required in forming the guard. He may never have given the command "Forward, march!" He may turn out to have little or no voice, and voice is something an adjutant must have. The first sergeants, on the contrary, have constant use for their lungs and larynx and faculties of command; and it used to happen quite frequently that, to one of these, instead of the sergeant-major, the prize of the adjutancy was given.

But there was no room for doubt in Benton's case, said the corps. He was soldier in every word and action; stood one of the five —sure; had a rich resonant voice, that was good to hear in the cadet choir and a delight at the entertainment given the fag-end of February – "one hundred days to June." No doubt, the plume and chevrons and sword-knot of the adjutancy would be his; "and no one," said Badger and Coyote, "would better grace or deserve it." On the score of the first captaincy they had less to say, but the battalion said a good deal. No one quite understood why, when Ames was dropped from third to sixth corporal, Wright had not been dropped from second to eighth or even below. He was a fine, tall, dignified fellow, massive of voice and slow of movement, and a very hard student. He was "dad" of the class, but no longer stood in the 5's. He was a fine-looking corporal and would have made an admirable color-bearer, but his impressive dignity was what lifted him so high at the start; and, acting as first sergeant of Company A in their yearling camp under a famous captain, he made no serious failure, but could not compare with either Graham or Connell or Winn as a drill-master. He was made first sergeant of Company A, however, at the outset; and as he was methodical and massive, things looked all right; but it soon became apparent that all manner of "breaks" could happen before his eyes and Wright never see them. More than that, roll-call with him was a very perfunctory affair. Time and again he faced about and reported, "All present, sir!" when one, two, and even, as once happened, six of his company had slept through reveille. Discipline couldn't help running down in Company A; and when recitations in tactics were about half over, it became evident that Wright was nowhere, compared with Graham and Benton, Ames and Connell, and a dozen more of the class.

"If Wright's made first captain, he'll go to sleep some day, and the corps will march right away from him," said his own cadet captain, who was a frequent sufferer from his sergeant's lapses. "Still, he has the prestige of being first in Company A right along, and nobody can say what Colonel Hazzard or the Supe may do."

But it was decided soon enough.

Back from the beautiful grove, one exquisite June morning, marched the jaunty battalion, each graduate bearing in his white-gloved hand the diploma he had just received in the presence of the revered old general-in-chief, who for the last time addressed the eager audience in cadet gray. Once more the line reformed in the shade of the massive elms in front of barracks. Gray-and-white and motionless, it faced the tall plumed figure of the cadet adjutant, unfolding the last order. Eagerly, impetuously a throng of visitors – men and women, girls and boys – came scurrying after and grouping breathlessly among the trees, all eyes on one form, all ears on one voice. Though he win the highest honors in the highest corps in the army of the United States, not for many a year will that young gentleman be again the centre of such absorbed and universal regard. Quickly he rattles through the orders for the dispersal of the Graduating Class. Who cares for that? They all know that beforehand, anyway. They'll be out of cadet uniform and into cit's in ten minutes from the word "Break ranks!" Here's what all ears are striving to hear. Listen:

Headquarters United States Military Academy,West Point, N. Y., June 11, 18 —.

Orders.

No…

1. All appointments hitherto existing in the battalion of cadets are hereby annulled, and the following substituted in their stead:

To be captains:Cadets Graham, Connell, Ross, and WinnTo be adjutant:Cadet DentonTo be quartermaster:Cadet Ames

And now Pops is conscious that the trees are swimming and he is getting dizzy. First captain! first captain! He? What will not mother say? What will not Bud say? It is almost incredible. But he gathers himself as the adjutant runs down the list. He sees the smile in Bend's kind face as his loved friend and captain faces about, and for the last time says, "Dismiss the company!" Mechanically his hand snaps in to the shoulder in salute, as for the last time he jumps the old rifle up to the carry, then steps to the front and faces to his left, and finds a frog in his throat as he gives the order, for the last time, to the company he has so well handled throughout the year, "Carry arms!" "Arms port!" "Break ranks, March!" and then is swallowed up in the cheering, hand-shaking, uproarious rush of the whole battalion; is lifted on the shoulders of a squad of stalwart fellows, faithful Connell among them, and borne triumphantly down along the road, and a lane is made through the gang of tossing shakoes, and suddenly a lithe little dark-eyed fellow, in natty suit of summery cits, sends a white top-hat spinning up into the overhanging elms, and clasps Geordie's right in both his dainty kid-gloved hands. "Pops, dear old boy, nobody's gladder than I am!"

And indeed Frazier looks it.

CHAPTER XVIII

What a wonderful summer was that of Geordie's First Class camp! To begin with, even the graduates had helped shoulder him through the sally-port after the announcement of the new appointments, and then turned out in their civilian dress, with canes and silk umbrellas and all manner of unaccustomed, unmilitary "truck," and cheered him, as for the first time he swung the battalion into column and marched it away to the mess-hall; and the new yearlings sliced up the white belts he wore that day and divided them among their number "for luck," and many an appeal came for the old first-sergeant chevrons; but Pops shook his head at that. They went off by mail far out across the rolling prairies to Fort Reynolds, where, in his letter to mother, a few modest words told of the high honor conferred upon him, and that he "thought it should go to Con." Buddie never waited to hear the end of that letter. He bolted, hatless, out of the house and down the line of officers' quarters to tell McCrea, shouting the tidings to everybody he saw as he ran. And McCrea came over to the doctor's forthwith, and Captain Lane and his charming wife dropped in before the family were half through tea; and the colonel came in later to congratulate Mrs. Graham, and so did many another wife and mother during the evening, and it was a season of joy and gladness not soon to be forgotten, and who shall say what volume of praise and thanksgiving and gratitude went up with the loving woman's prayer when at last she could kneel and pour out her heart all alone. Indeed, it seemed, especially to Buddie, an event of much greater moment to the friends on the frontier than it did to Geordie. His first concern was for Connell. Wright, of course – big, ponderous fellow, moving slowly, as big bodies always do – could not be expected to come at once to congratulate the comrades who had stepped over his head. He was "let down easily," however, and made first lieutenant of the company instead of captain; but he came over to shake hands with Graham and tell him it was "all right," and found that Connell had never left his chum from the moment the battalion was dismissed. Brushing his way through the crowd, the loyal fellow had almost fought a passage to Geordie's side. He could not bear the idea that Graham's triumph should be clouded by fear of Connell's disappointment.

"Why, Pops, honest Injun, I'd hate to leave old D, now that I've got to know them all so well; and I tell you candidly if I expect to land in the Engineers next June I want nothing to interfere with my studies meantime, and first captaincy is a powerful tax on a man's time and thought. But even outside of that, old man, I believe you deserve it more and will honor it more than any fellow in the class."

And with such friends at his back, what young soldier would not feel pride and hope and confidence? Then came the close of the examination, the announcement of class standing; and Geordie had clambered out of the twenties and well up into the teens, standing second in drill regulations (as they are called to-day), third in discipline, well up in drawing, though still in middle sections in the philosophical and chemical courses. Ames was easily head, Benton third, Ross fourth, and Connell fifth. And then came the order to move into camp, and our Geordie found himself, with his second lieutenant for mate, occupying the north end tent of the company officers' row – the tent which, three years before, bucket laden, and with shoulders braced and head erect, he had passed and repassed so many times, never dreaming he should become so thoroughly and easily at home within the white walls, into whose depth it was then profanation to gaze.

Meantime, what of our old acquaintance Benny? All through the months of his sojourn in lovely Nassau the boy had written regularly to the friend of his plebe days, and some of those letters were very characteristic – so much so that Geordie sought to read them to certain of his chums by way of preparing them for Benny's return; but he found all but a very few members of the class utterly intolerant of Frazier. He had "behaved like a cad and a coward," said many of their number, taking their cue from Connell. It was all very well to write and prate about its being the turning-point of his life – starting all wrong – needing all this discipline and distress to set him in the right road. When he had returned and shown by his conduct that there was grit and manliness in him, all right; but the corps never did and never will accept a fellow at his own valuation. He must prove his worth. Benny Frazier might come it over tender-hearted women like Mrs. Doctor Brett and Mrs. Hazzard and Mrs. Other Officials and such dear old dames as Pops himself, but he must "hoe his own row in the corps" was the general saying.

And so even Benny's rush to congratulate Geordie and the impulsive sacrifice of that immaculate tile had softened few hearts. Donning the cadet uniform and silently resuming his place in the ranks of Company B, Frazier strove to ask no favors and resent no coldness. He was not tall enough to join the grenadiers of Company A. There was something pathetic in the big dark eyes as he, a First Class man in years, but a no class man in law, stood irresolute in the company street the day they marched into camp. Yearlings and all had their tents chosen. There was no welcome for him. It was just as well that Mrs. Frazier obeyed her boy's injunctions and kept away until late that summer. For a fortnight or so, until the plebes came into camp, Benny lived all alone. Then, assigned to a tent with Murray and Reed, two cadet privates of the class with whom he had never had dealings and by whom he was treated with cold civility, he made no complaint, nor did he seem to seek their better graces. But Pops never failed to hunt him up if a day went by without Benny's coming to the first captain's tent for a chat. He got Ross to give Frazier a seat at his table in Grant Hall, and would have interceded in other ways, but Frazier himself said no. "I have head enough left to see that I have got to work out my own salvation, Geordie, and you can't make them like me."

And so the humbled fellow kept his own counsel, hearing some pretty hard things occasionally, but saying nothing. The former terror of the plebes in nowise meddled with them now. Mourning for his father was sufficient reason for not attending the hops which, despite his managership, Pops himself very frequently failed to visit. It was lonely work going on guard as the sole representative of an absent class, but Frazier made no remonstrance. There were little points in which he could not overcome the slothful tendencies of his earlier days. He was sometimes late or unprepared, but he took his reports without a murmur and walked post like a man.

The summer wore on. Up with the dawn, out in the sun and the breeze from morn till night, hastening from one brisk martial exercise to another, sometimes in saddle commanding a platoon in the roar and dash of battery drill, sometimes a division in the school of the battalion, sometimes at the great guns of the sea-coast battery, waking the echoes of the Highlands with the thunder of their report and the shriek of the shells towards Target Point, sometimes on the firing-line of the skirmishers, Geordie seemed to broaden with every day, and as first captain he was vigilance itself. "Even in Rand's day you never saw better order or discipline in the hall or in the ranks," said Connell, "and the best of it is, the battalion wants to do as he wishes."

"Coyote & Badger's a close corporation" was yet the saying in the corps, and it was fun to the First Class to hail their senior captains by these Far Western titles. One thing that neither of them would stand, however, was, that any under classman should refer to Geordie as "Pops." That pet name was reserved for the family and very intimate friends.

Connell, to be sure, was one of the gallants of the corps all the summer through, and to Geordie's keen delight his Badger chum seemed to be universally popular in society, and though their tents were at opposite flanks, as were their posts in line of battle, they were seldom far apart when off duty. The two, with Benton, formed what Ames sometimes referred to as the Cadet Triumvirate. Benton made a capital adjutant, and the parades attracted crowds of visitors that, as August evenings grew longer, could hardly be accommodated.

Benny stopped one evening in front of the tent to say that his mother would be up on the morrow. "I have been calling at Dr. Brett's this afternoon, and they expect their relief next week. They've been here four years, you know."

It set Geordie to thinking. Medical officers of the army are seldom if ever kept more than four years at any one station, and his father had now been at Fort Reynolds fully five. Nearly all his professional life had been spent in the Far West. Three or four years he had been shifted about so rapidly and continuously that it was in partial recompense he had been retained so long at this big and pleasant post. "It must be about time for him to be shifted again," thought Geordie, "and now it's bound to be somewhere in the Division of the Atlantic." Odd! not for a whole month had the subject been mentioned in any of his home letters. His father rarely wrote more than a brief note; his mother never less than eight pages; and Bud's productions, curious compositions, were ever a delight to his big brother. But none of these had of late made any reference to change of station. How Geordie wished they might come East and visit the Academy now!

One week later, and the 28th of August was at hand. Camp was crowded, for the noisy furlough-men returned at noon, and were bustling about, making absurd pretence at having forgotten how to get into their "trimmings," and calling for some generous Fourth-hearted Class man to come and aid them. Visitors were swarming all over the post. Hosts of pretty girls had come for the closing hop, and the hotels were crowded to suffocation.

"Your mother promised to 'sit out' three dances with me, Benny," said Pops, as he wound himself into his sash, cadet fashion, as the first drum beat for parade. "Tell her I shall come early to claim them." How he envied the boy his mother's presence! Frazier nodded as he sped away to get into his belts, but with a light in his eyes and a laugh in his heart – very little like the Benny of the year gone by.

"Does Graham make as fine a first captain as we thought he would?" asked a returned furlough sergeant of one of the seniors, as they stood watching him quietly chatting with Benton before the beat of the second drum.