In times like those we have but recently passed through, when the theories
and studies of thirty years are being put to tests of fire and the sword,
it is interesting to turn for a moment to our naval school at Annapolis,
where the officers who planned our campaigns, directed our battles and
our blockades, and commanded our ships were first trained to the serious
business of war. Though the years which have passed since 1861 have made
changes in the personnel system and appearance of the Naval Academy, the
city of Annapolis itself is the same sleepy, careless, happy-go-lucky town
of earlier days.
Once a year, and only once, it rouses itself from its lethargy and assumes
an air of gayety and importance which it may not even have shown when it
earned for itself the title of “The Gayest Colonial Capital.” During the
latter part of May and the first of June each train that pulls into the
ramshackle station bears a load of pretty young women,--sisters, cousins,
sweethearts,--who come for the two-weeks’ exercises, when the naval cadets
are graduated, and for the June ball. It has been so since the founding of
the Naval Academy, and will be so as long as youngsters in brass buttons
are brought up to be professional heroes.
In the old colonial days Annapolis was rich. There was an English
governor, and grouped about him were some of the oldest English families.
In the middle of the eighteenth century Annapolis had become refined, gay,
elegant, and even dissipated.
Not only was Annapolis in these old days the most lucrative place in
the colonies for the practice of law, but it was the birthplace of such
lawyers as Daniel Dulaney, William Pinckney, Charles Carroll, and Reverdy
Johnson. In those days, too, after the Revolution, Charles Carroll of
Carrollton, the richest man in America, was one of the citizens. To-day,
while the descendants of some of these families are still in possession of
the homes of their forefathers, the seat of power and money of Maryland
has changed to the commercial capital, Baltimore. The centre of social
gayety, therefore, is to be found in the Naval Academy.
The social feature of the life of the cadet must not be underestimated.
The youngsters who present themselves as candidates for admission,
appointed politically, come from all parts of the country, and represent
every shade of opinion and training in the United States. They are a
smaller image of the large mass of our people. The problem of bringing
these different natures into accord with the conditions which they must
face is no easy one; and the weeding-out process, which immediately
begins, is conducted by the superintendent--usually a captain in the
navy--and the officers under his command, under rules which have been
adopted after sixty years of previous administrations.
There is an indefinable something in the organization of the place that
makes an indelible impression upon the mind of the candidate, and as he
enters upon his duties it does not take long to discover whether he is
mentally and personally fitted for the long task before him. It was said
in the old days that a seaman was born and not made. But modern warfare
has so changed the conditions that, while the officers of the navy must
always command men and have the instincts of the sailor, high mental
attainments are also the requisite, and those instincts can be formed by
experience and association.
The course, then, in brief, is the training of the mind and the body,
the school of the soldier and sailor, and the school of the gentleman.
Here, then, is where the social influences of the Naval Academy are felt.
Politics, like misfortune, makes strange bedfellows, and the scion of
your Eastern banker may soon find himself detailed as the room-mate of the
most impecunious and unpretentious of Uncle Sam’s younger sons. It is the
democracy of military training, in which every man’s standing is governed
alone by his professional qualifications. Money or position can in no way
affect his life. His rise or fall depends entirely upon his own worth.
To the young man fortunate enough to secure an early appointment from his
representative in Congress, his new home, in the month of May, presents
every attraction. From the moment he passes the gate, passes the marine
guards, his eye meets the beautifully kept lawns of the campus and
drill-ground, sweeping gradually down to the sea-wall on the north and
east sides, where the Severn River flows, stretching out to the blue
waters of Chesapeake Bay, only three miles from old Fort Severn. To the
left, as he enters, are the New Quarters and hospital. To the right, the
sacred precincts of “Lovers’ Lane,” into which he cannot go, under pain of
displeasure of his upper classmen, until he has passed through the first,
or “plebe,” year, and this rule is stringent.
To pass the examinations successfully the candidate must be physically
sound, and must have a knowledge of arithmetic, geography, United States
history, reading, writing, spelling, English grammar, and the first
principles of algebra. The number of appointees is limited by law to one
naval cadet for every member or delegate of the House of Representatives,
one for the District of Columbia, and ten at-large; the District of
Columbia and the at-large appointments being made by the President. The
course of the naval cadets is six years,--four years at the Naval Academy
and two years at sea,--at the expiration of which time the cadet returns
for the final graduation.
The fourth-class man who enters in May has a certain advantage over the
September appointee, for he has the advantage of four months of practical
instruction, which hardens his muscles and gets his mind into excellent
shape for the harder work of the year. Having passed his examinations,
the youngster goes to the office of the superintendent, where he takes
the oath of allegiance which binds him to serve in the United States navy
eight years, including his time of probation at the Naval Academy, unless
sooner discharged. He deposits a sum of money for his books, and such
other amount as may be necessary for his outfit, and is put to no further
expense.
His pay is five hundred dollars a year while at the Naval Academy,
but, while he acknowledges its receipt to the paymaster by signing the
pay-roll, he is furnished with only sufficient pocket-money to get along
on. This sum of money is microscopic, and is usually spent as soon as
received. Having procured his outfit from the storekeeper, he reports on
board the “Santee.” The “Santee” is one of the old sailing-frigates in the
navy, and has for years been anchored at the naval dock as quarters for
cadets during the summer time and for practical instruction in the drill
of the old Dahlgrens. Here, too, is where the fractious cadets are placed
in durance.
Until within a very few years the new fourth-class men were sent
upon the summer cruise of cadets, first on the “Dale,” then on the
“Constellation” and the “Monongahela.” But by a change in the curriculum
the May appointees in the fourth class do not take the summer cruise. The
“Monongahela,” one summer, carried the line division of the first class,
the second class, and the third class. Before this change the life of the
“plebe” on the summer cruise was not a bed of roses. The cadets of the
third class, until recently “plebes” themselves, were prepared to wreak
upon their juniors all of the pent-up exuberance of the previous year.
Hazing, in the old sense, has died away, and even the “running” of ten
years ago has been reduced to a minimum through the efforts of Captains
Ramsey, Sampson, and Phythian; but the “plebe” was made to step around in
a very lively manner, and to do most of the hauling on the heavy gear,
while the third-class men did the complaining. On the “Monongahela” the
first, second, and third classes are now, as in the old days, considered
as sailors, although a number of the blue-jackets are retained on the
vessel. The cadets do their share of the work, and perform all the
duties of men-of-war’s-men except scrubbing, holy-stoning, and cleaning
brass-work. The lower-class men are divided into watches with the regular
blue-jackets, side by side with whom they assist in performing all the
evolutions in working the ship.
The cruise which follows is usually a pleasant one. There is a lot of hard
work to do, and in a short while the hands and muscles get hard, the white
suits conveniently tarry, and the skins of the youngsters as brown as
leather. But the life has its compensations, for at Fortress Monroe they
get into their uniforms again and go ashore to the dances given there at
the time of their arrival and departure.
Meanwhile the engineer division of the first class is off on a cruise to
visit the various navy-yards and docks of the Atlantic coast. Their course
of instruction differs from that of the cadets on the “Monongahela,”
and they are shown the practical side of engineering work on sea-going
ships. Away down below the water-line of their vessel, in the stoke-hole,
engine-room, or boiler-room, covered with grease or coal-dust, they do all
the work of oilers, engineers, stokers, and mechanics, so as to be able
to know accurately all the duties of those men, and to be able to command
them in the years to come.
In October the study-term begins, and the cadets are then given their
quarters for winter. Most of them are in the building known as the New
Quarters, while the others, cadet officers of the first class, are placed
in the Old Quarters. The subtle distinction in the titles of these two
sets of buildings is hardly appreciated at the Naval Academy, since they
have both been built for thirty or forty years, and are in a frightful
state of dilapidation. Two cadets of the same class are quartered in
each room, and the discipline of household, as well as of person, begins
immediately. Each room is plainly furnished, and contains two beds, two
wardrobes, two looking-glasses, two iron wash-stands, a common table, and
a broom. The charge of the room is taken by each cadet every other week,
and this cadet is responsible for its general order and cleanliness.
If the officer in charge should happen to inspect the quarters in his
absence, and find anything contrary to regulations, the cadet in charge
is the one who is reported at the next morning’s formation, although his
room-mate may have been the delinquent.
Throughout the year the reveille sounds at six o’clock. At a quarter
to seven is morning formation, roll-call, and inspection. The ranks
are opened, and the keen-eyed officer in charge, followed by the cadet
officer-of-the-day and his ominous scratch-pad, with keen eyes looks for
grease spots, specks of dust on blouses, tumbled hair, or unblackened
boots. After breakfast the sick-call is sounded, and cadets who are ill,
or who think they are, report to the hospital. At eight o’clock the study
begins, and lasts until half-past twelve. The cadets of each class are
divided into sections of from six to a dozen each, and at the bugle-call
are formed by sections and marched to their recitation-rooms for study.
The morning is divided into two parts, and each part is divided into two
periods, one for study and one for recitation.
Briefly, the course of instruction is as follows: Fourth class, first
year: algebra, geometry, English, history of Greece and Rome, French,
naval history of the United States, Spanish. Third class, second year:
descriptive geometry, trigonometry, the Constitution of the United States,
analytical geometry, mechanical drawing, physics, and chemistry. Second
class, third year: seamanship, principles of mechanism, differential
calculus, integral calculus, physics, chemistry, mechanical drawing, and
navigation. First class, line division: seamanship and naval tactics,
ordnance and gunnery, theory and practice of navigation, hydrographic
surveying, least squares, applied mechanics, naval construction,
ballistics, armor, and torpedoes. The engineer division has marine
engines, boilers, machinery designing, mechanics, and naval construction.
The first part of the course, it will be seen, deals with the simpler
branches of study. The plan is not to burden the mind of the cadet with
unnecessary knowledge, yet every branch which will directly, or even
indirectly, contribute to his ultimate efficiency has its place in the
curriculum. The end--the making of a thoroughly trained seaman--is kept
constantly in view. The simpler studies train the mind of the cadet to the
technical work which follows in the third and fourth years, and in those
two years he gets his principal technical and practical training. Each one
of the departments in which he studies has a head, usually a naval officer
above the rank of lieutenant-commander. All of these heads of departments,
with the superintendent and commandant of cadets, who is also head of the
Department of Discipline, form the Academic Board. The afternoon classes
begin at two and last till four, after which comes the afternoon drill,
which lasts until 5.30 and completes the daily duties.
It does not seem with all this work as though the cadet had very much
time to himself, but the cadet is not unhappy. Wednesday and Saturday
afternoons are given over as recreation-hours, and football and baseball
with neighboring college teams bring crowds of visitors into the Academy.
The band plays upon the lawn, and the pathways are filled with fair
visitors, who walk with their respective heroes along the shady lanes.
Saturday night, too, during the winter, hops are given, sometimes by
officers and sometimes by cadets, and a gymnastic entertainment once a
year gives the cadets the opportunity to show their prowess in boxing,
fencing, and work on the gymnastic paraphernalia.
Towards the end of May the annual exercises begin. The examinations
finished, the arrival of the Board of Visitors is announced by the booming
of cannons from the sea-wall. The cadets receive them on dress-parade,
and the work of showing their progress during the year is at once
begun. The Board of Visitors go out on one of the government tugs into
Chesapeake Bay, and there they see the upper-class men tack, wear-ship,
box, haul, and perform all the evolutions in a seamanlike manner on the
old “Monongahela.” Light yards are swung across with the precision of
old men-of-war’s-men; sails are reefed, furled, or set in an incomparably
short space of time; and the cadets are down from aloft for their target
practice. The target is towed out by a launch, anchored, and gun by gun,
battery by battery, division by division, or by broadside, the cadets
hammer away at it as though it were the vessel of a hostile power, more
often than not blowing it entirely to pieces.
[Illustration: REEFING TOP-SAILS]
Back again at the yard, they go through with their drill as infantry
or artillery; and last, but not least, comes the drill by companies for
the honor of bearing the Naval Academy flag during the coming year. The
judges in this competition are usually army officers, and every movement
is carefully watched and marked. The captain of each company, before going
to this drill, selects its sponsor,--a very pretty girl, who, the drill
over, presents the flag to the victorious company amid loud cheers from
the whole battalion.
The exercises are over. The cadet of the first class is now ready to be
graduated. Companies are formed up in hollow square, and the secretary
of the navy in the centre, with a pleasant word to each, presents the
diplomas to the graduates amid cheers from the companies. As quickly as
he can the first-class man goes to his quarters and shifts into his new
uniform, and comes back to the campus for the congratulations of his
friends. That night the June ball takes place, and the graduate bids
farewell to his old associations and goes out into the world.
Few articles that have been written about the Naval Academy have given
anything of the personal side of the life of the cadet,--the side of his
life that is an escape-valve from books and drills. There was a time,
years ago, when smoking was permitted by the superintendent, and this is
how the privilege was granted: One night, in January, 1879, an alarm of
fire was sounded just before ten o’clock. The cadets, then nearly ready
for turning in, appeared in all sorts of costumes, but reported promptly
in the hall. When the battalion was assembled at fire-quarters, word
passed that there was a fire in the city and they were expected to aid.
With a cheer the cadets dashed to the engines, and, in spite of the cold
and their scanty costumes, rushed out to the State-House circle, where
seven or eight buildings were all ablaze.
It was found that the hydrants could not supply enough water, so the cadet
officers immediately took charge and ran a line of hose to the river.
Four houses were already past help, but attention was immediately directed
towards saving the others.
In order to save three buildings it was found necessary to pull one of
these burning structures down. A heavy chain was passed through the doors
and one of the windows, which was manned by the cadets and townsfolk, and
the building was in a short time demolished. In some unaccountable way,
after part of the building had been pulled down, the chain was unshackled,
and the townsfolk, who were now manning it, shot half-way up the street.
So the cadets, in spite of their hard work, could always find time for
skylarking. One officer, who was not very much liked, received the full
force of the hose, which was in charge of two cadets, directly under the
chin. Of course, apologies were in order, but the officer had to go home.
At four o’clock in the morning the cadets, wet and tired out, returned to
their quarters.
The next day they found that it was generally considered that they had
not only saved the buildings but the greater part of the business portion
of the town, as the wind had shifted, and the part of the town towards
the harbor would have been completely destroyed. At formation the order
of the superintendent was read. It said that, “Whereas, the cadets had
shown great bravery in the performance of their duty the night before,
and had conducted themselves in a creditable manner, the superintendent
desired to express his appreciation and grant to them the privilege of
using tobacco.” Ten minutes after breakfast there was not a man in the
battalion of nearly four hundred who was not puffing away furiously on
pipe, cigar, or cigarette, although not an ounce of tobacco had been drawn
from the stock of the storekeeper. Whence it came is a mystery.
The privilege was taken away in 1881; and though to-day there is no
smoking allowed, and smoking is considered one of the most serious
offences, yet it is safe to say that in many a secret nook this contraband
is safely hid from the eye of the officer in charge. In the old days,
after taps, or lights out, poker-parties were the order of the night.
The windows and transoms were covered with blankets, and every ray was
hidden from the eye of the zealous officer and watchman. But to-day
the discipline is different, and the cadet, to pass the rigorous mental
examination, has no time to transgress the written and unwritten law.
There are, of course, many criticisms from various quarters as to the
methods of instruction at the Naval Academy, but it is not desirable
to make rapid changes, in spite of new conditions, in a course that has
proved successful for many years. It is asked that if cadets are to man
steamships without sails, what is the use of educating them to officer
sailing-vessels? What was the necessity of building the “Bancroft,” if she
was not to be used for the practice-cruises of the cadets? Why has it been
proposed to build wooden vessels for their instruction? The superintendent
of the Naval Academy, Captain Cooper, Secretary Herbert, and Secretary
Long have contended that officer-like qualities can best be attained by
experience in sailing-vessels. They believe that intrepidity and alertness
come from the old school of sailing-ships.
On the other hand, many of the older officers believe that there is too
much book-learning at the Academy and too little practical instruction;
but most of them are willing to admit that the naval officer of to-day
must be a scientific man to properly meet requirements of modern ships,
and that he cannot acquit himself properly unless he has a complete
theoretical training. It is certain that the cadet graduated now from the
Naval Academy is thoroughly trained in his profession. He has never yet
been shown deficient in knowledge of any duty which he has been called
upon to perform, nor incapable of mastering the intricate parts of modern
ships. Considering the age at which he leaves the Academy, he is better
educated in his profession than the college graduate, and is also trained
in those qualities for command which make the American naval service what
it is to-day. He goes forth thoroughly equipped for his life-work.