LESSONS FROM MARS
In the Area of the South Barracks, directly opposite the sally-port,
is a little brick building with a clock tower. It is small and
insignificant looking to the ordinary observer, but not so to the
cadet. Here dwell the “Tacs,” the officers of the Tactical Department,
who are charged with the discipline and purely military instruction of
the Corps. More especially, it is the Headquarters of the Commandant,
his assistants, the cadet Officer of the Day, the officers of the
guard, and the orderlies. The mail, the precious mail, is assorted
twice daily within its old walls, and its creaky wooden floor is worn
thin by the lively tread of hurrying cadets feverishly crowding around
the bulletin boards.
In the second-floor room of the Tower is the Officer in Charge, the
monarch of all he surveys. True, his reign is but twenty-four hours,
but he returns to the throne about once a week. During his tour he is
the Corps monitor. From the quaint little porch off his room, the “poop
deck,” as the cadets think of it, he coldly and inscrutably regards
all formations in the Area. When the punishment squad is walking tours,
the door of the “poop deck” opens unobtrusively, and for a moment he
stands casting a glance over the oscillating gray figures, walking
their narrow paths back and forth. As quietly as he comes forth he
fades from view. The “Area Birds” breathe more freely as he disappears,
but soon again he reappears like an accusing conscience. His presence
hovers over the daily life of the cadets. To them he is the “O. C.”
and source of all information. His decisions have the sacredness and
authority of the Delphian oracle. If the weather is threatening,
it is he who decides whether raincoats shall be worn to meals. If
visitors arrive during study hours, his permission must be obtained
to speak with them for half an hour. If knotty problems of interior
administration bother the Officer of the Day, his advice is immediately
sought. He is amazingly omniscient.
Each day brings a new “O. C.” until the roster of the Tactical officers
has been exhausted, whereupon the cycle begins anew. There are various
species of “O. C.’s,” and it is astonishing how the personality of each
one will influence the day of the cadet. There is the cheerful “O.
C.” with a kind manner and a cordial tone in his voice. Between him
and his young charges there seems to be a bond of mutual confidence
and affection. They feel that his reserve is assumed “By order,” and
that if they only knew him, he would be their friend. They feel his
human side, his understanding of their difficulties, and they have no
resentment when he reports them because they know that in doing so, he
feels a sympathetic pang. When he enters the Mess Hall, his presence is
welcomed, as much as cadets can welcome the presence of any officer.
Somehow the laughter seems gayer and the day altogether brighter during
his tour. There is no unconscious load to carry in addition to the
actual burdens of the day. At parade, a little more effort is made to
execute smartly the manual when he gives the commands.
Then there is the gloomy “O. C.,” the stand-off kind that looks daggers
upon the approach of any cadet. He appears to circle over the Corps
like some hungry bird ready to pounce any moment upon his prey. When he
has occasion to question a cadet, a barrier of ice immediately rises
between them and their viewpoints drift miles and miles apart. He seems
to them never to have been a young man himself, so little of the power
of understanding does he possess. They look him up in the Army Register
and discover that he too was a cadet not so many years ago, but to
believe it strains their credulity to the breaking point. When things
go wrong, instead of pointing out the error in a natural manner, there
are anger and resentment in the voice. All of his “skins” seem flavored
with malice. Apparently, he goes out of his way to be disagreeable,
as if to be so was to be military. His tour is regarded with dread
especially by the First Classmen detailed that day for guard.
But the influence of either type of Officer in Charge is transient. It
passeth from day to day. If the Gloomy One is on duty, there is the
consolation that the Cheerful One will succeed him like sunshine after
rain. It is the Commandant of Cadets, the chief of all the “Tacs,” who
exercises the great permanent influence over the Corps. Ever since the
creation of his office in 1825, he has been “the Com” to the embryo
officers under him. He prescribes all of their drills and casts the
mold for the discipline of their bodies and souls. He is the tribunal
that grants or withholds their privileges and that punishes them for
their premeditated or thoughtless misdeeds. Whereas a few years ago he
exercised his power for the seclusion of his office, at a distance from
the cadets, today he meets and talks with them daily, ascertains their
viewpoint, giving to his work the new spirit of the personal touch that
has crept into the instruction at West Point. To be successful in his
important work, he must never look bored. He must take an interest in
the cadets rather than in the Regulations. He must be human. To gain
the admiration of his men he must be above all efficient, fairly good
to look upon, military in appearance, and well dressed, and to gain
their liking and respect he must be smart, strict, and impartial. There
are two faults in an officer that a cadet finds hard to forgive: lack
of neatness and “being wooden.”
In his work, the Commandant is assisted by the “Tacs,” Infantry,
Cavalry, Field, and Coast Artillery officers. Officers of every branch
of the Service are represented because at West Point, the duties of all
arms are taught. It is with these officers more than any others that
the cadet comes into the most direct contact.
For purposes of administration, each company is commanded by a Tactical
officer. He passes upon all permits, requests, requisitions for
clothing and for ordnance. He inspects the rooms of his command to see
that they are clean and in order. He examines the rifles and equipment
for dirt and rust. He supervises one or more of the drills. He is
really the presiding genius over the company, in whose welfare he takes
unselfish interest. It is the duty of him and his brother “Tacs” to
uphold the discipline of the Corps, which means that when a man has to
deal with eight hundred young wills, American nurtured, he must utilize
something stronger than mere words to see that the eight hundred
conform to the set standards of the institution. His chief weapon to
emphasize to the cadet the importance of the Regulations is the report
or “skin,” which carries with it a certain number of demerits, and
sometimes punishment tours.
The cadet consequently looks upon the “Tac” as his arch enemy. One
cannot help having a little resentment toward a person who is always
present to check up his misdoings, no matter how just and well deserved
the punishment may be. The feeling is only human and the military
atmosphere rather augments it. It is especially difficult, I think, for
Americans to feel continually the heavy hand of authority, because each
one of us is so individualistic. Unconsciously, the cadet cannot get
away from the presence of the “Tac.” Life in barracks seems to revolve
around this individual. From the early morning inspection, until the
evening study period when he again comes around, knocking sharply on
each door and interrupting the train of thought, his spectre, if not
himself, is haunting the surroundings. The cadets know that he is just
across the way in the Guard House, and that they will meet him at drill
in the afternoon. He is the important factor that must be considered in
their daily comings and goings. He is a sort of irritating yoke.
It is not to be wondered at then, that he is the subject of unlimited
discussion, despite regulations to the contrary, and that every
peculiarity of manner, dress, or speech is noticed and criticized. His
entire personality is usually summed up in some nickname that comes
like an inspiration and hits the nail upon the head. Occasionally
the name is complimentary, in unconscious recognition of an innate
nobility which marks him out as of finer clay, but more often it is
uncomplimentary and droll.
Nothing pleases a cadet quite so much as to see a “Tac” do something
wooden. They say that he is gross, which has nothing whatsoever to
do with being fat, but simply means that his mind is somewhat dense.
Immediately the blunder spreads like wild-fire from lip to lip, growing
as it goes and repeated with a joy that approaches delirium. There
was at one time an officer on duty whose idiosyncrasies were told and
retold. He furnished many a good story for the delight of the Corps,
and his departure threatened the existence of _The Howitzer_, the
cadets’ annual publication, and of the _Hundredth Night_, the annual
play in which the officers may be satirized. His mind seemed to work
by rule and regulation. One night when he was making his inspection of
barracks, he came to a room where only one cadet was studying at the
center table. He entered, looked around, and then inquired:
“Cadet, where is your roommate?”
“In bed, sir!” was the reply.
“Is he asleep?” asked the officer.
“I don’t know, sir,” answered the cadet.
“Well, find out,” ordered the “Tac.”
The man then turned to his roommate who was plainly visible in bed, and
asked:
“Jim, are you asleep?”
“Yes” sounded off a voice from the depths of the comforters.
“He says he’s asleep, sir.”
“Very good, cadet,” replied the “Tac,” and quite satisfied, left the
room, just in time to escape the outburst of laughter that followed
this highly intellectual conversation.
To be always under the observation of so many pairs of keen
young critical eyes is sufficient to make any officer somewhat
self-conscious, and to give a certain kink and twist to his actions.
The cadets, like all youth, are merciless in their judgment, sometimes
almost cruel. They are ever on the alert for any slip that the “Tac”
may make and intolerantly condemn him. But so responsive are the cadets
that it would take but a smile, or a word or so bordering on intimacy,
to remove all critical feelings and bring about “glad confident
morning.” I wonder sometimes why that so seldom happens. I suppose it
is because we are all artificial.
Although the Tactical officer is very much occupied with the interior
discipline and economy of his company, the greater portion of his time
is given over to the military instruction of the cadets. The purpose of
this instruction is to familiarize the cadet with the duties and needs
of a private in the ranks by practical experience, to impress upon his
character the habit of obedience, and to train him in the function of
command by repeated exercise.
In order best to accomplish this purpose, the cadets are organized
into two battalions of four companies each. This is the present
organization, but as soon as the Corps has been increased to the full
strength recently organized by Congress, the Commandant intends to
make a regiment. Although the Tactical officers command the companies
in the sense that they are the supervisors of the discipline and
administration, the actual commanding of the companies on the drill
ground is entrusted to the cadets. Selected men perform all of the
duties of the officers and non-commissioned officers. They are chosen
for this honor on account of their good conduct and studious habits,
and the soldier-like performance of their duties. They are as strict
and conscientious in upholding the Regulations as are the officers
themselves. As a matter of truth they are more severe because they
seldom take it upon themselves to put any interpretation upon the
motive underlying the act. A thing is right or it is wrong. There is
no middle line. Whenever any cadet is on duty, he insists that all
under him obey implicitly his orders, and should any man be so rash
as to disregard his authority, he instantly enters a report against
the offender. It would seem that such an action would arouse the
resentment of his fellow cadets, but this does not occur, due to the
honor system at West Point. Cadets generally recognize that their
attitude toward their work must be different from the student at the
average educational institution because their duties are all in serious
preparation for their future careers.
Of course, there are some men who carry their authority too far when
they find themselves in command of their fellows. Sometimes they lack
judgment and consequently deserve sympathy; sometimes there are a few
men who deliberately try to make an impression upon their superiors
at the expense of the men in the ranks. These men who allow their
desire for probable advancement to lead them astray are quickly sized
up by the Corps, and dubbed “quilloids.” They are usually disliked
and made to feel the displeasure of their comrades. In nearly every
class there are some of these men who do not see clearly, and who
persist, throughout their whole course, in placing false values upon
trivialities.
Since the cadets are organized into Infantry battalions, the greatest
amount of time is devoted to the work of this arm. There are many
reasons why this should be so. The Infantry is the largest branch of
the Army, and to it is assigned the greatest percentage of graduates.
Infantry drill is the basis of all drills and is the best for
inculcating discipline and cohesion among the men. Besides, the Great
War in Europe has proven that Infantry is still the Queen of Battle,
and that all of the other branches, the Artillery, the Cavalry, the
Engineers, the Aviation Corps are but her minions. It is the Infantry
that decides the fight.
The practical military instruction of the cadets, although carried
on throughout the year, varies in intensity at different periods.
In the depth of winter it is impossible to drill out of doors. The
Infantry instruction is then suspended, except for the daily class and
meal formations. When, however, March 15th rolls around, the Ides of
March remember, and the snow leaves the ground, the Corps begins its
annual training. Immediately after the dismissal of the sections from
recitations at four o’clock, the battalions form in front of barracks
for the afternoon drill. Despite the raw March winds that blow across
the Plain, chilling one to the marrow, the battalion designated for
Infantry drill sets about overcoming the inequalities of marching, the
lack of precision in the execution of the manual, raggedness of the
movements that have been produced by the long inactivity of the winter.
It is at this period that the most scrupulous attention must be paid to
the manner of executing the various movements. Every little dereliction
is criticized, every mistake is corrected, and every movement repeated
until it can be faultlessly performed.
First the companies are drilled alone and then later assembled for a
short battalion drill before going back to barracks. Up and down the
Plain the companies march, now in column, now in line. The right guides
of each company seem to be carrying the burden of the drill as with
tense faces they fixedly regard the two points upon which they are
directing the march of the company. Meanwhile they are measuring their
step by a silent count of “one-two-three-four.” The officers and file
closers are attentive and alert, giving a word of caution here and
one of reprimand there, as the line crowds in on the left, or, like
an accordion, opens out on the right. The plebes in the rear rank are
striving to the utmost to keep in step and on the line, and at the same
time carry their rifles straight and drag in their chins. The detail
and care with which every command must be executed begins to produce a
feeling of monotony, and stolen glances seek the clock in the tower.
Fifteen more minutes! The hour seems interminable and the wind more and
more disagreeable. Finally the hands of the clock roll around to five
and the musician appears in the sally-port and sounds the recall.
The next afternoon the second battalion attends close order drill and
the first takes its place at extended order. A lighter gayer crowd
march forth to this exercise. Here they will have a little chance
for individual leadership, the command of a platoon perhaps, or of a
squad, or they will enjoy the comparative freedom and independence of
the skirmisher. In the early part of the spring course the mechanism
of the drill must be rehearsed upon the Plain. The parade ground is
therefore dotted with prone and kneeling groups of platoon columns and
of squad columns. The blast of the officer’s whistle, the simultaneous
outstretching of the squad and platoon leaders’ arms as a signal, and
the columns magically deploy into one long line of skirmishers. Once
again the blast of the whistle sounds; more signals; bayonets are fixed
and squads begin their rushes forward to the delight of the small boys
and visitors who line the surrounding walks. Then follows the assembly
and the companies do it all over again.
As soon as the mechanism is well learned, the battalion is taken up
into the hills and maneuvered over all sorts of ground. Combat problems
involving advance guard and outposts are worked out under the direction
of the Tactical officer. In these exercises the actual command of the
companies is in the hands of the cadets, but the Tactical officer,
assisted by other officers, directs the drill. The cadets detailed
for this drill called Field Training are assembled in front of the
old gymnasium where the officer outlines the problem and gives the
men a talk on the principles that are involved. Each man is made to
understand just what he must do before he starts out and must know the
general principles to be applied in cases that arise. A situation is
assumed where the cadets are a force in the country of the enemy. They
are to form, we will say, the advance guard of their regiment. The
instructor gives to the cadets who are to command all information that
he has of his own forces and of those of the enemy and he points out to
the young commanders what is to be accomplished. The cadet officers are
then called upon to communicate to the men under them the instructions
that, in their opinion, are necessary to accomplish the mission. The
officer stands near to make suggestions and corrections, or to point
out errors of judgment. As soon as all understand what they are to do
the command moves out to work out the problem.
It is in the Field Training of the Infantry that the cadet acquires a
real knowledge of command. He must be able to size up situations and
quickly form a decision. He must then issue orders, clear and definite,
to cover the case. It is in these drills that he learns something of
the art of handling troops and what is the feeling of responsibility.
The cadets who actually exercise command are the First Classmen. They
are detailed by roster, irrespective of whether they are privates or
cadet officers, so that every man has many opportunities to command
a company before he graduates. It is highly important that the cadet
should be given practice in appearing before a body of men and in
giving them instructions. Nothing helps so much to give him confidence
in himself. It is of great value to him when he joins his regiment
in the Service. Cadets of the First Class are therefore detailed for
every kind of duty. They are company commanders, acting adjutants,
lieutenants, officers of the day and of the guard. Whenever there is a
chance to place responsibility upon the cadet, advantage is taken of it
by the Commandant.
The Infantry instruction is progressive. The First Classmen are trained
in more advanced work by means of tactical walks. These exercises are
similar to those prescribed for officers in the Service and are in line
with their future work as subalterns. An officer takes four or five
men with him to some neighboring terrain well adapted to a particular
problem. All of the different phases of the problem are considered and
the cadets required to size up each situation and issue their orders as
if in actual warfare. They are provided with maps which they must be
able to read with facility. At the close of the exercise the officer
holds a critique.
Nor is target practice, that important branch of Infantry instruction,
neglected. In summer when the cadets are in camp, the complete course
of firing as prescribed for Infantry and Cavalry troops is given the
First Class. It is held down on the flats near the river in the shelter
of Cro’s Nest where a fair range parallels the Hudson. Every clear
morning at seven the detachments march down to the range. At this hour
the air is cool and crisp and so crystalline that every feature of
the landscape stands out sharply defined. West Point is incomparably
beautiful at this season and time of the day. But as the sun mounts
higher in the Heavens the coolness is replaced by a steadily increasing
heat. From the arrival at the range until noon, Washington Valley
echoes with the crack! crack! of the Springfields. Little groups of
cadets are stretched out in the blazing sun trying to find the bull’s
eye and hoping to pile up a big enough score to win the coveted medal
of Expert Rifleman or Sharpshooter. Meanwhile another portion of the
men is down behind the butts, taking its turn in shifting the targets.
All morning long they monotonously pull the frames up and down, pasting
on the target, now a white paster, now a black one, or mechanically
waving the red flag back and forth. Intermittently the telephone rings:
“Ting-a-ling-a-ling-a-ling.”
“Re-mark No. 8!” sings out the operator.
Careful search is made on No. 8 for the third time and up goes the red
flag, the sight of which fills the hopeful cadet back at the firing
point with a feeling of disappointment and disgust. And so the morning
passes, the men firing so interested that they are oblivious of its
flight, and the men in the butts thinking less of pasters and red flags
than of the cool shower that waits them in camp, and blessed dinner.
If one wishes, however, to see the finished results of the discipline
and cohesion produced by Infantry training he must attend either a
review and inspection by the Corps, or a parade.
Every Saturday, shortly after the return of the cadets from dinner,
there is an inspection on the Plain, preceded by a review, at which
the appearance, clothing, and equipment of the cadet are minutely
examined by his Tactical officer. I know of no finer sight at West
Point than this ceremony, especially in the summer and early fall when
the Plain is green and the cadets wear the excellent combination of
the gray coats and white trousers. As the companies maneuver on the
Plain preparatory to taking their places on the line, the perfection of
their marching, their impeccable appearance, the white cross-belts, the
glittering breastplates, and bell buttons of coat, the foreign-looking
dress hat with its rigid little pompon, the splendid bearing of the
men, betray the beholder into believing that he is watching the
evolutions of some legendary _corps d’élite_. The scene seems foreign
and yet again very American. The most characteristic feature is the
thoroughness with which every detail of dress, equipment, and marching
has been worked out. When the Corps turns the bend near Sedgwick
monument and comes swinging down past the reviewing officer, the most
callous spectator could not fail to have his emotions stirred. His
pride is flattered. He is watching a ceremony whose perfection of
execution and beauty is symbolic of an institution that in a sense
belongs to him, to the man next to him, and to all the spectators along
the line. It is the product of America. No wonder he reverently removes
his hat as the colors march by.
No less beautiful although not so elaborate is the ceremony of parade.
During the spring and fall, daily parades are given by the battalion
that has attended infantry drill on that day. The drummers sound the
first call in the sally-port. The Area of Barracks is practically
deserted, but within the rooms cadets are feverishly adjusting their
belts, wiping off their guns, struggling into their coats, or looking
for mislaid breastplates. Out of the doors all at once begin to dart
the plebes, first one then another, and still others. They hastily
proceed to their places on the walk and mark the rear rank. The hands
of the clock slowly creeping around to the hour for the assembly are
watched intently by the Officer of the Day who stands in the sally-port
ready to give the signal.
From all the doors of the barracks are now pouring the upper-classmen
immaculately dressed in stiffly starched and evenly creased white
trousers, gleaming white belts, and shining buckles. Their faces
are so obscured by the chin strap of their high dress hat that all
personalities are lost, and each man appears to be the duplicate of
his fellow. The picturesqueness of the uniforms and the background of
the severe stone barracks recall the days of Frederick the Great. The
assembly sounds. At once the companies are formed and inspected. They
proceed to their places in the sally-ports and between the neighboring
buildings preparatory to debouching on the Plain. At the termination
of the Adjutant’s call the band begins its march. One company emerges
unexpectedly from the north sally-port, another from the south, another
from near the Academic building, still one more from the shadow of the
old gymnasium. More of them keep coming and move out on the Plain. The
fresh green grass offers a charming contrast to the white of the
uniforms as the companies perform their evolutions before advancing to
the line. The Plain is dotted with companies in column, companies in
line, companies in columns of platoons, marching in perfect cadence as
if animated by machinery.
[Illustration: Parade on the Plain]
The line is now formed stretching from the flag pole to the trees in
front of barracks. A few minutes of silence reign over the parade
while the Adjutant moves smartly and rapidly to his place in front
of the Battalion, and by command, brings the Corps to “parade rest.”
The golden sun sinking in the west plays its dying rays on the long
gray line, causing the men in ranks to blink and blink on account of
its brilliancy, and illuminating the bell buttons of the dress coats
until they sparkle like so many gems. Meanwhile, the band has marched
in front of the Corps and resumed its place on the right. The retreat
sounds. Then a hush falls over the visitors’ seats as the spectators
rise to do honor to the flag, while the neighboring hills reverberate
with the strains of the _Star Spangled Banner_. The exercise in the
manual of arms being terminated, the band once again crashes forth
and the thin gray line of cadet officers, with their feathered plumes
fluttering and the knots of their red ashes swinging back and forth,
sweeps forward to the officer reviewing the parade. Smart salutes are
exchanged, the cadet officers face about and return to their companies
to march them in review and back to barracks.
Hand in hand with the Infantry instruction goes that of the Cavalry
to which is allotted the next greatest amount of time in the schedule
of training. Cadets are taught the fundamentals of every branch
of the Service, and all cadets receive instruction in riding and
in Cavalry tactics whether or not they are destined for that arm.
Infantry officers must know how to ride as well as those of the mounted
branches. Frequently their duties require them to be mounted, and when
they arrive at the grade of field officer, major, and above, they
are obliged to command their troops from the back of a horse. It is
only during their first year at the Academy that cadets do not attend
cavalry instruction. When they become Third Classmen their acquaintance
with the horse begins. Cadets must be taught to ride before they
can be advanced to the tactics of the cavalry, and as a matter of
fact, learning to ride well takes so much of the allotted time that
comparatively little is left for the cavalry problems. The cadets
who join this branch of the service will learn their cavalry tactics
chiefly in the Army.
Beginning with the Yearlings, therefore, lessons are given in
equitation, outdoors in good weather and in the magnificent Riding
Hall during the winter. At first life in the Riding Hall is hard for
those men who have never before ridden, but once they learn the art of
“sticking on” they enjoy the exercise that riding affords. The first
few weeks are particularly trying. When the Yearlings march in upon
the spongy tanbark, they find themselves face to face with a whole row
of bareback horses lined up along one side of the hall. The animals are
champing their bits and wagging their heads apparently in sheer joy
of the anticipation of “policing” a few victims. Little chills run up
and down the spines of the Yearlings and their bodies are covered with
goose flesh as they read the challenge in the eyes of the beasts.
“Fall out!” orders the instructor. Ranks are broken and the men
run over to the grinning horses, scrutinizing them with breathless
impatience, first one, then the other, hoping to catch a sight of a
kind and gentle glance.
“1. Prepare to mount! 2. Moun-n-n-n-t!” commands the instructor in a
sepulchral voice. Then follow frantic efforts to climb the slippery
hides--ineffectual jumps succeeded by sudden descents. Finally they get
aboard and all goes well until the heartless instructor intones:
“Slow trot. March-h-h-h-h-h!”
Such efforts at balancing never before were seen! One man on a
razorback tries every spot from the mane to the croup in an attempt to
find one little piece of hide whereon he might sit in peace and quiet;
another on an imitation Percheron wabbles most dangerously and falls
off going around the curve; another is firmly grasping the mane, or
tugging at the iron mouth of some malicious brute that insists upon
holding its head high, with both ears bent back to enjoy the muttered
curses of the rider. The galleries are lined with the daily visitors
who smile gleefully upon the embryo cavalrymen, but the distressed
Yearling’s gaze turns reproachfully toward the spot where the young
girls of the Post may be seen bunched together and giggling.
As the days pass by the Yearling finds that his seat becomes more and
more secure and by the time that he has arrived at the dignity of a
Second Classman he feels that he is able to cope with the wildest of
the equine breed. During the first year the drill was more or less
drudgery, but after twelve months of practice he enjoys the lessons. He
feels the pleasure that comes from the ability to make one’s muscles
obey the will, to feel the horse yielding to the slightest touch of leg
or rein. The thrill of the leap over the ditch and of the jump over the
wall are sensations that he loves. Later on when he goes out to the
cavalry drill ground for instruction in tactics, it is the gallop and
the charge _en masse_ that give a new meaning to the word “drill.” It
is no longer a task but a pleasure.
His progress in handling his horse enables him to proceed to mounted
pistol practice and to enjoy the privilege of riding on the road,
and of polo. By the time that he has become a First Classman he is
ready to devote his time not so much to equitation as to real Cavalry
instruction. He learns how to reconnoiter, how to patrol. As in his
Infantry instruction, he must solve problems innumerable: the forming
of the advance and rear guards, the establishing of outposts, making
and breaking camp, the proper conduct of the march, how to care for his
horse the same as though he were an enlisted man. He must groom him,
feed him, and water him. He is called upon to perform every duty that
is required of enlisted men in the Cavalry so that when he shall become
an officer, he will know just how much to expect of his men. He will
so understand the fatigue of grooming, the difficulty of managing some
horses, and the impossibility of always being alert and attentive that
he will be patient and sympathetic, judging his men by their limited
advantages and not by the standard that he has attained through a
training _par excellence_.
Portions of the Cavalry instruction are devoted to hippology and to
packing. In hippology the cadets study a text-book upon which they
recite, but in addition they are frequently taken to the stables where
all types of horses are trotted out for their inspection and criticism.
They must be able to tell all of the horse’s good and bad points and
must be conversant with the remedies for the ordinary diseases. The
packing is entirely practical. A pack train is kept at West Point for
the use of the cadets, and they are drilled in putting up an aparejo
and packing the mules. They must be experts in throwing the diamond
hitch.
The branch of the Service, however, that is more closely allied to the
Infantry than the Cavalry is the Field Artillery. They are indeed
brother arms. In the fight the Artillery must prepare the way for
the Infantry, using its powerful explosive shells to demoralize and
decimate the enemy so that the Infantry’s task, hard enough at best,
may be made easier. Among the cadets the Field Artillery is a popular
branch of the training almost rivaling the Cavalry. The course of
instruction is splendidly progressive. During Fourth-Class year, the
plebes learn all about the instruments, how to set the sights, to
read the scales, the use of the quadrant, and to perform the duties
of cannoneer. By the time that they go into their Yearling camp each
individual is sufficiently trained to be a good gunner, so that the
class is ready to receive instruction both in the squad acting alone,
and as part of a battery. During the fall and drill periods of the
Third-Class year, the Yearlings are called upon to perform the duties
of driver, sometimes wheel driver and again lead driver. As in the
Cavalry instruction, the cadets must learn all of the duties of
enlisted men. Their experience as drivers will teach them how hard
it is to bring horses and carriage to a stop at a designated place,
how difficult it is to estimate the ground correctly, and how a man’s
patience can be tried by fractious and unruly beasts.
The members of the Second Class are taught in the fall the technique
of the mountain battery, and in the spring they act as officers at the
drill of the field battery while the First Classmen who have already
passed through this stage of the training are detailed to command the
organization. The First Classmen also spend a great deal of their time
upon the theory of artillery fire, and practice accumulating firing
data. During the First-Class camp they conduct regular target practice
with the battery.
[Illustration:
_Photo White Studio_
At Target Practice on the Flats]
The course in Field Artillery has been vastly improved in recent
years. All of the instruction is given by Field Artillery officers,
and non-commissioned officers who are specialists along certain lines,
instead of as in former days by a stray Infantry, Cavalry, or Coast
Artillery Tactical officer. All the plebe drill period at that time
seemed to be consumed in jumping up on the caisson and off again. I
always felt like a squirrel in a cage going round and round without
getting anywhere. Sometimes, too, the instructions that the officer
gave us were a little mixed to say the least. I remember once an
instructor to whom Field Artillery was an alien art giving us at drill
the following order much to the merriment of the plebes:
“The cadets will now be divided into three squads: those that have
fired, those that have not fired, and those that have done neither.”
There are other drills in the cadet’s military calendar besides those
of the three main branches of the mobile army. No little attention
is given to Practical Military Engineering. In camp one third of the
class spends four hours of the day practicing the various methods
of signaling, how to make knots and lashes, how to construct gabions
and fascines, how to use tackle, and how to construct bridges. The
First Class make position and road sketches, they lay out field
fortifications, and dig trenches. They learn the use of explosives,
the placing of mines, and the dynamiting of trees, buildings, and
railroads. During the Academic year the Department of Practical
Military Engineering gives the Fourth Class a thorough course in
surveying that embraces both theory and practical work with the
instruments in the field.
The Tactical Department is charged with the instruction of the Coast
Artillery. Several modern batteries, both rifles and mortars, are
installed at West Point so that the cadets may have every facility
for learning the technique of this arm. The Yearlings act as gunners,
performing the same duties that are required of privates in the Regular
Army. The Second Classmen act as gun pointers, range and azimuth
setters, do the plotting and observing, or, in other words, perform the
duties of non-commissioned officers in the Regular Service. The First
Classmen act as battery officers or as range officers, so that upon
graduation they may join their commands fully acquainted with their
prospective duties.
After the Corps has been given the maximum of military training for any
one year, a week’s practice march is held as a climax to the intensive
work of the summer camp. With band playing and with all the panoply
of war the cadets march down to the ferry to cross to the other side
of the Hudson. For the next six days they march and maneuver through
the beautiful country in the neighborhood of West Point. Every day
camp is established at a new point and a problem worked out on the
march from one place to the other. All branches of the Service are
represented. The main body of the Corps go as Infantry, but the First
Class make up the Cavalry and Field Artillery. The “hike” is a valuable
experience for the cadets. They learn what it means to be a “doughboy”
and carry a pack on one’s back through the sweltering heat and the dust
of the road. They appreciate how tired the Cavalryman and the Field
Artilleryman are when they throw themselves down in their pup tents
after the labors of the day. Their understanding of real soldiering
is broadened and their sympathy for the duties that enlisted men have
to perform, awakened. They return to the Post, footsore and weary,
prepared to take up their studies in barracks and continue their
military training in the limited time after recitations.
During the entire year all military instruction ceases at six o’clock
in the evening. Military methods are, however, inextricably woven into
every part of the cadet life in addition to what might be called purely
military training. All during the evening study period, for example,
a certain number of cadets are on guard in the hall of the divisions
to prevent the cadets from visiting in each other’s rooms, and to
preserve the utmost silence in the barracks. The only noise that can be
heard is the tread of the sentinel who walks back and forth wrapped in
his own thoughts that occasionally are interrupted by the Corporal of
the Guard sticking his head in at the door and saying:
“All right on your post?”
“All right, sir,” answers the sentinel, who as soon as his superior
disappears replunges into his reverie until time for his relief.
At twenty minutes past nine a preliminary tapping of the drums is heard
on the Plain near the Commandant’s quarters. A few minutes of silence
ensue. Then the music of the fifes and drums startles the night as the
drum corps commences its march to barracks to sound tattoo. The notes
of the fifes float out over the darkened Plain in the weirdest possible
manner, as if the spirits of the night were trying to be gay but could
not suppress a certain plaintiveness in spite of their joy. They are
like a little boy going upstairs in the dark who keeps saying out loud,
“I’m not afraid, I’m not afraid.” On they come, the music growing
louder and louder, until they reach the sally-port where their racket
is a signal to the cadets to cease work and make down their beds. Some
of the men are already asleep, but the vast majority are still sitting
at tables, supporting their heads on their hands as they try to absorb
the meaning of the printed words that dance before their eyes. The
Drum Corps has ceased to play and stands near the Guard House waiting
for half-past nine. The silence of the Area is broken only by the tramp
of the third relief marching around the stoop of barracks from one
division to another.
[Illustration:
_Photo White Studio_
At P. M. E. Drill
Building a Pontoon Bridge]
“No. 1. Off!” commands the Corporal.
The sentinel joins his leader and passes on to relieve the other
sentinels. Meanwhile the hands of the clock indicate nine-thirty. The
“Hell Cats” sound the tattoo. For the next half-hour the barracks
are animated with cadets running up and down stairs to the showers,
with the noise of beds being made down and water drawn. Gradually ten
o’clock draws near. The Officer of the Day standing in the Area turns
to the musicians:
“Sound taps!” he commands.
THUMP! THUMP! THUMP! goes the drum in measured beat.
“Li-i-i-i-i-ghts out!” call the subdivision inspectors. The windows of
the barracks seem to blink for a moment and then darkness envelops all
of the rooms.
And so ends the day that has been continually under the eyes of the
Tactical Department. The next day will be the same and the next and
the next. Next year, too, the mills of the Gods will be grinding away
bending, twisting, shaping Mr. Ducrot for his future work. No act of
his is passed unnoticed or unrecorded. Every time that he performs
a duty the “Tacs” give him a mark that goes toward determining his
standing in military efficiency and deportment. This is as it should be
because the attitude toward duty that he displays as a cadet is a good
indication of his future attitude as an officer, and to deny to merit,
talents, and acquirements their just rewards would be to check the
emulation which brings genius into action and qualifies the industrious
student to become an ornament to his country.
The object of the Tactical Department is to make the cadets loyal,
obedient, and disciplined young soldiers. It requires them to perform
all of the duties of the enlisted men of the Army as a method of
understanding what an officer can demand of his men. They can then go
to their regiments with a sympathetic understanding of the trials and
thorns in the path of the men for whose lives they are responsible.
Moreover the “Tacs” aim to give the cadet a good training in the
fundamental principles of the tactics of each arm so that he leaves
the Academy prepared to take up the duties of a subaltern. He is not
supposed to leave West Point with the knowledge of a colonel as some
seem to think.
In our present war with Germany, West Point will continue to send
forth her product as heretofore to help train the immense number of
recruits for the new Army. They will be called upon to train also the
new officers that are needed for the large force that we will raise,
and to this task they must bring not only a practical knowledge of
certain drills, but a mind capable of thinking straight. They will lend
all of the aid that is possible but they realize also that in training
officers, drill and mechanical maneuvers, however useful they may be,
are subordinate to the more rare and difficult acquirements that alone
can produce accomplished and scientific officers. What is chiefly
needed in an officer is acuteness of intellect, either the result of
genius or habits of reasoning on scientific subjects. To this of course
must be added tactical knowledge, the foundation of which is securely
laid at West Point.
In the immense army that will soon be ours, the graduates of West Point
will indeed be a small leaven, but I am confident they will bring to
this mass of raw soldier material the ideals and the spirit of their
Alma Mater. They will not forget the lessons learned at her knee, but
will justify to the nation that has given them their education the
soundness of West Point’s methods of training officers.