Drill, drill, drill! Up with the dawn, rain or shine; hurrying through
their soldier toilets; rushing down the iron stairways and springing
into rigid attention in the forming ranks; sharply answering to the
rapidly called roll; scattering to their rooms to "spruce up" for
inspection; sure of reprimand if anything went amiss, sure of silence
only if all were well. Sweeping and dusting; folding, arranging, and
rearranging each item of their few belongings; stumbling over one
another's heels at first, yet with each succeeding day marching to
meals with less constraint and greater appetite; spending long hours
of toil and brief minutes of respite; twisting, turning, wrenching,
extending, developing every muscle, most of them hitherto unsuspected
and unknown; bending double, springing erect, roosting on tiptoe,
swaying forward, backward, sideways, every ways; aching in every bone
and joint, sore in every limb, yet expected to stick to it through
thick and thin, until as days wore on and pains wore off, and all that
was sore, stiff, and awkward grew little by little to be supple, easy,
and alert. Wondrous indeed is the transformation wrought in two weeks
of such drill under such drill-masters. The 1st of July arrived; George
Graham and his fivescore plebe comrades had now spent a fortnight under
surveillance and discipline strict and unrelenting as that of the days
of grim old Frederick the Great, except that it tolerated no touch of
the corporal's cane, no act of abuse. Sharp, stern, fiercely critical
were the young cadet instructors, but after the first few days of
soreness the native elasticity returned to both body and soul, the boys
began to take heart again, and a spirit of rivalry to develop between
the drill squads.
To Geordie the hours of soreness of spirit had been few as those of
physical suffering. His years of life among the soldiers had prepared
him for much that he had to encounter, and pride and pluck sustained
him when wearied by the drills or annoyed by the sharp language of
his instructors. But with poor Benny Frazier all was different. A pet
at home, and the brightest scholar of the high-school of his native
city; moreover, the boy officer of the high-school battalion, of whom
it was confidently predicted that "He would need no drilling at all
at West Point"; "He'd show those cadet fellows a thing or two they
never dreamed of"—it was gall and wormwood to his soul to find himself
the object of no more consideration at the Point than the greenest
"country jake" from Indiana or Dakota; and to Benny's metropolitan
mind anything from either Western commonwealth could be nothing but
green. What made matters worse for Frazier was the fact that his father
and mother had accompanied him to the Point on his arrival, and with
pardonable pride, but mistaken zeal, had sought to impress upon the
minds of such officers, cadets, and relatives of other plebes as they
chanced to meet the story of Benny's manifold excellences as soldier
and scholar—oft-told tales of how General This or Professor That
had declared him the most accomplished young captain they had ever
seen. Then poor Mrs. Frazier, who had pictured for her beloved boy
a reception at the hands of the authorities in which gratification,
cordiality, and respect should be intermingled, was simply aghast to
find that he must take his stand with his fellows at the bottom of
the ladder. Luckily for Benny, his parents' stay was limited to three
days. Unluckily for Benny, they remained long enough to see him at his
first squad drill, side by side with two unmistakably awkward boys, and
faring but little better. Such was her grief and indignation that the
good lady declared to acquaintances at the hotel that her boy should
be drilling that horrid little martinet instead of being drilled by
him—and such speeches are sure of repetition. Before Benny was a week
older he was known throughout the battalion as "the plebe who had
come to drill the corps of cadets," and nothing could have started
him worse. One can only conjecture what the fond but unwise mother
would have said could she have seen, a fortnight later, that boys
who had never drilled at all—had never handled a musket—were grouped
in the first squad, and making rapid and soldierly progress, while
Benny was still fretting and fuming in the lower one. Yet what was so
inexplicable and inexcusable in her eyes was perfectly plain and simple
to those acquainted with the facts.
All over the Union now are military schools and National Guard
organizations in which the drill regulations of the regular army are
well taught and understood; but, on the other hand, there are many
schools and communities in which the strictly business system of
instruction insisted upon among all progressive soldiers has been
neglected in favor of something showy, catchy, pretty to look at, and
utterly useless and unserviceable except for spectacular purposes; and
as ill-luck would have it, Benny had been taught all manner of "fancy
drill" movements utterly at variance with those he was now to learn;
and so, poor boy, the nerves and muscles long schooled in one way of
doing things were perpetually tripping him in his efforts to master
another—he had to unlearn so much before he could learn even a little.
The green boys, on whom he looked with such pity at the start, knowing
no wrong methods, were speedily far ahead of him in acquiring the right.
And so the boy who had entered with the highest hopes and expectations
was now low on the soldier list and lowest in his mind. But for his
father's hard common-sense, Benny Frazier would have been only too glad
to resign and get out of it all and go home, as other disappointed
boys have done, and declare West Point a hotbed of narrow prejudice,
of outrageous partiality, and unbridled injustice; and Benny's mother
would have honestly believed every word of it. Connell, too, was ready
to sympathize with Frazier, and confidentially to agree with him that
Pops, the youngest of the four room-mates, owed his rise to the first
squad entirely to the fact that his father was an officer; but when
four more boys were added to the first squad, and Connell was one of
them, he changed his views, and decided that only merit governed those
matters, after all. He began to pluck up heart, too, for he and Graham
were among the first to be marched over to the commissary's to try on
the new gray fatigue uniforms, and Mr. Loring's squad all appeared in
shell jackets and trousers before Winn and Frazier had cast off their
civilian garb.
By July 1st, however, all were in fatigue dress, and consolidated in
half a dozen squads for drill purposes. By this time, too, they could
march to and from the mess-hall in stiff but soldierly fashion; and
still, hour after hour, the relentless drills went on. Only on Saturday
afternoons and on the long, beautiful, peaceful Sundays was there
really time and opportunity for rest; and still the new cadets were
kept carefully secluded from the old, seeing little or nothing of the
battalion, except as, with its quick elastic step and its glistening
white uniform, with the brave young faces looking browner every day
under their snowy helmets, with drums and fifes playing their lively
quicksteps, the little column came marching down the shaded road, and
the plebes were drawn up in solid ranks until their future comrades
should pass by, and, springing up the mess-hall steps, give room for
them to follow.
Pops wrote his first long letter home the second Sunday after passing
the entrance examination, and this is something of what he said:
"We have lived together now just fourteen days, Frazier and Connell,
Winn and I, and are getting along pretty well. Of course we may be
scattered as soon as we get in camp, for Winn is tall, and will be
put in A or D company. Connell wants to live with his statesman, Mr.
Foster, in B. If Frazier and I get into the same company we will tent
together, most likely. He asked me to, and said he could fix it. We
got our fatigue uniforms Thursday, Connell and I, and were almost the
first, too, because of being in Mr. Loring's squad for drill. He is
very sharp and severe, and some of our class don't like him a bit; but
thus far we get along all right. I'm so pleased to be in the first
squad to get rifles I don't mind his manner. Of course it helped a good
deal knowing the manual of arms, but they're a heap stricter here.
[Pops would drop into frontierisms at times.] If a thumb or finger is
a bit out of place, the corporal makes more row about it than Sergeant
Feeny would over a recruit's coming out for guard with a dirty kit.
"I guess Frazier wishes he hadn't been so fresh [more slang, Pops]
at first. He was captain in the high-school cadets and head of his
class, and rather held over our boys about the drill at first; said he
knew it all, and showed his school medals for best-drilled soldier,
etc.; but Mr. Loring gave him fits, and put him under Mr. Flint, who
drilled me the first few days, and is as ugly and stern as he can be.
Frazier tried to make us believe the cadets were drilling him wrong;
but when he showed us how they did it where he came from I knew it
was he who was wrong; and he's had a lot of trouble, and wanted to
resign and quit, but his father wouldn't let him. He's getting on a
little better now, and says he'll be all right as soon as we are at
our studies in the fall. I guess he will, for he's been clear through
algebra and geometry and trigonometry, has been in France two years,
and speaks French perfectly, and we all think he's sure to be head of
the class, if he doesn't get disgusted; but he does that pretty easy.
Connell is slower, but has been well taught in the public schools.
Winn is a big, tall fellow from 'Kentuck,' as he calls it—good-natured
and jolly. He's been to college, and is nearly twenty; so is Connell;
and Frazier is eighteen, but a regular boy. He was awfully disgusted
at a trick the old cadets played on him last week; and they got hold
of some story about his thinking he ought to be drilling them instead
of their drilling him, and I expect he'll have a tough lesson when we
go into camp, where they can get at us and have fun. Don't expect any
long letters like this, mother dear, when once we are there, for there
won't be any undisturbed hours, as there are here in barracks this
lovely Sunday afternoon. I've been thinking of all you said to-day, and
tried to fix my thoughts on the service and the sermon in church; but
they would go with my eyes along the row of cadet officers, who always
sit in the centre aisle and at the end of the pews, and I found myself
wondering what each one was like, and whether the time would really
ever come when I, too, would wear the handsome chevrons and sash. I
could see just where Mr. McCrea must have sat when he was cadet captain
of Company C. It must have seemed such a 'come down' to go out into the
world and be nothing but a Second Lieutenant, whom anybody could rank
out of quarters and everybody order around. And yet that's what I hope
to do after four years—four long, long years of hard work; and there
isn't a happier, hopefuler boy in creation than this particular plebe.
But you just ought to see how blue most of them are!
"You asked me not to use tobacco, and I won't. It is forbidden in the
corps, but lots of them do it. Frazier has a hard time. He has been
smoking cigarettes two years, he says, though his mother doesn't know
it, and he had a lot in his trunk when he came, but had to turn them
all over to the old cadets. Winn chews. He says they all did at his
home. But Mr. Merrick made him surrender his tobacco—all he had; but
it's easy enough to get more at the Falls. Frazier says all you've got
to do is to pay some servant or drummer-boy. He has money in plenty,
for his mother supplied him. They are rich, I believe, and Frazier
says his father deposited two hundred dollars with the treasurer to
start with, instead of the one hundred required. Some boys haven't
that, and couldn't get it. Connell said he worked after hours for six
months to raise enough to bring him here, and had fifty dollars to
hand the treasurer. It hurts me to think how you and father must have
pinched and denied yourselves to raise the money to send me all the
way, and to pay all these expenses and the one hundred dollars deposit.
I know now why father couldn't afford the new uniform he so much needed
this year, and I don't know what you must have given up; but I love
you, and don't mean to let myself think how I envy Buddie this minute,
that he is there where he can hear your voice and see your face and
touch and kiss you."
But here Pops's eyes began to fill, and the letter had to be put aside.
He was glad of the loud, ringing summons on the ground-floor, "New
cadets, turn out promptly!" and just dashing his hand across his eyes,
went bounding down the stairs to take his station in the ranks.
And then came the momentous day of their move into camp. All were now
in complete fatigue uniform, many thoroughly drilled, all passably
so, and all eager to get into the battalion, and figure, in their own
eyes at least, as old cadets. Right after reveille roll-call on the
morning of the 2d of July they were bidden to stow the last of their
civilian clothing in their trunks, carry the trunks to the store-rooms,
roll their bedding into convenient bundles, and be ready to move the
moment breakfast was over. By half-past six the cavalry plain, as the
turfless eastern half of the broad open plateau is termed, was covered
with a long straggling procession of plebes, bearing their burdens over
to the lively and excited camp. They had been sized the night before,
the taller half of the class being assigned, as was then the custom, to
the flank companies of the battalion, while Pops and Connell were told
off into Company B, the right centre or color company. Frazier, always
luckless, as he said, was one of the plebes assigned to C Company,
and for a time it looked as though Pops were to lose his prospective
tent-mate. But Mr. Merrick, in brief official tones, announced that
exchanges would be permitted except from flank to centre companies, and
Frazier presently found a meek little fellow named Willis who said it
made no difference to him which company he went to, so he crossed over
and took Frazier's place in the C squad, and thus it happened that when
they trudged across the sentry post at Number Six, and were directed to
deposit their bundles in Company B's bustling street, Pops and Frazier
were once more together. Already Geordie was beginning to doubt the
wisdom of the arrangement, but he had given his promise to tent with
Benny, and would keep it. All along among the tents the yearlings could
be seen indulging in pantomime, expressive of the liveliest delight
at these accessions to the ranks. Pops could see them pointing out
Frazier, and hear exclamations: "There's the plebe that ought to be
drilling the corps," "Major-General Frazier," etc., and low laughter
and chuckles. But all this was done covertly; for Lieutenant Allen, the
army officer commanding the company, was standing close at hand with
Cadet Captain Leonard, supervising the assignment of tents. Mr. Merrick
had handed the cadet captain a list of names of those assigned to his
company, twenty-eight in all, and that young soldier was now keenly
looking over his new men. Pops, saying nothing to anybody, was standing
quietly by his bundle of bedding waiting for orders; but Frazier, who
had more "cheek," as Connell expressed it, and less discretion, did not
hesitate to step up to Lieutenant Allen, and say, "Mr. Graham and I
would like to tent together, sir."
The officer turned. "Which is Mr. Graham?" he asked. "Call him here."
And so in another moment Pops found himself standing attention to his
company commander and instructor.
"I am told you wish to tent with Mr. Frazier. Is that the case?"
Geordie colored. The question was so pat and what soldiers call
point-blank. He could not truthfully say that he really wished to share
Frazier's fortunes as a tent-mate. In the pursuance of the policy
he had mapped out for himself he would rather have lived with some
one less likely to be the recipient of much attention from the old
cadets—some one less apt to be perpetually saying or doing something to
invite their especial efforts. Mr. Allen saw his hesitancy, and spoke
kindly.
"If you think of any one else you would rather tent with, I presume
that it can be arranged."
"No, sir," answered Geordie, finding voice at last. "I had thought of
no one else. I promised Mr. Frazier."
"Very well, sir. Mr. Leonard, put this young gentleman and Mr. Frazier
in the same tent—two more with them. Have you any choice, Mr. Graham?"
"No, sir."
And then again appeared Frazier, eager to speak. "Connell and Foster,
sir, would like to tent with us."
The cadet officer looked interrogatively at his superior. Mr. Allen
briefly nodded.
"Take that one, then," said Mr. Leonard, shortly, indicating a vacant
tent on the south side of the company street, at about the middle of
the row.
"Come on, boys," said Frazier, eagerly, assuming the leadership of his
squad as though by vested right, and then was brought up standing by
the voice of his young captain.
"Mr. Frazier," said he, "the first lesson you have to learn is that
very new cadets should only be seen, not heard; and when you are heard,
sir, don't again allude to members of the corps of cadets of the United
States Army as _boys_. You are here to be men, if it's in you. If it
isn't, you're apt to get out of it, sir."
And with this withering welcome to his company, poor Frazier was
permitted to go.
"That's another young snob, that fellow Leonard!" he confided to his
comrades, in low tone, as they were depositing their few goods and
chattels in their eight-by-ten domain. "I'll pay him off for that yet,
see if I don't." Whereat Pops and Connell exchanged glances and grins.
[Illustration: "'TAKE THAT ONE, THEN,' SAID MR. LEONARD"]
It took little time to arrange their canvas home in the prescribed
military order. Pops was a veteran campaigner, and had slept in many
a tent or bivouac in the Far West, so the quarters that struck his
comrades as crowded were almost palatial to him. When they placed
their loads in front of it at six forty-five, all they saw was a
trimly-pitched wall-tent, the walls themselves neatly looped up so as
to allow the air to circulate freely, the tent and its "overcoat,"
or fly, both stretched taut and smooth, without crease or wrinkle, a
square, smooth, six-inch-high platform or floor covering the ground
from front tent pole almost to the one in rear. An elongated wooden box
painted dark green, divided into four compartments, with lids opening
at the top, extended almost from front to rear of the platform on the
west side of the tent. This was to be their chest of drawers. A wooden
rod hung about eighteen inches under the ridge-pole; this was to be
their wardrobe, and of other furniture there was none. Under the brief
instruction of a cadet corporal they began with the rudiments of their
military house-keeping. First, their four big double blankets were
folded in a square very nearly four feet across, and with the folded
edges to the front and inside, accurately piled one upon the other.
Then the four pillows in their white cases were evenly laid upon the
blankets. Then the four comforters or quilts, folded like the blankets,
were evenly laid on top, edges vertical, and that was the way in which
the beds were made up every morning after reveille. The pile thus
formed occupied the corner of the floor opposite the locker or chest
of drawers at the back of the tent. The locker was the name given the
dark green chest, and the "locker" had neither lock nor key. Under the
supervision of the cadet corporal the plebe quartet contributed the
items necessary to their summer house-keeping. A looking-glass, sixteen
by twelve, in a plain wooden frame, was hung on the front tent pole,
tilted a trifle forward at the top. A water-bucket was deposited at
the front edge of the platform close to the locker. A washbowl, bottom
outward, was leaned against the front edge of the platform close to the
bucket. A soap-dish was on the platform behind the basin. Candlestick,
candles, cleaning materials, etc., were deposited in a cylindrical tin
box that stood at the foot of the rear tent pole behind the base of the
arm-rack.
The four rifles, barrels to the front, were stood erect, the butt of
each in its wooden socket at the back of the floor, the muzzle poked
through a hole in the wooden shelf fastened about four feet from the
ground on the rear tent pole. The white webbing belts, supporting the
cartridge-box and bayonet-scabbard, were hung on pegs projecting from
the wooden shelf. Shoes, "neatly blacked and dusted at all times,"
were aligned at the back of the floor, toes to the front. Such books
as were allowed were piled on the floor at the back end of the locker.
All woollen uniforms, overcoats, rubber coats, etc., were to be hung on
the hanging-pole. All white trousers, sheets, underclothing, collars,
cuffs, gloves, etc., to be stored, each man's in his own locker.
Brushes, combs, shaving utensils were stuck in loops tacked on the
inside of each lid. The black full-dress shakos were, when procured, to
be neatly placed on the shelf of the rear pole, ornaments to the front,
and forage-caps hung on the owners' pegs. There was a place, howsoever
small, for everything, and everything was to be kept in its place.
By the time the first drum was beating for troop parade everything
was in spick-span order. The officers had gone about their duties,
and a group of yearlings, looking as though each and every one had
just stepped from a bandbox, so far as his dress and equipments were
concerned, quickly formed in the company ground in front of the
newly occupied "plebe hotels," the very imp of mischief grinning in
the sun-tanned faces of the younger and more boyish members, but
one and all full of the liveliest interest in the appearance of the
new-comers and their household affairs. Comment and criticism, advice
and suggestions, more or less valuable, were showered on every plebe;
but even while silently and good-humoredly submitting to his fire of
remarks, Pops could plainly see that no tent was so surrounded as
their own. It really seemed as though every Third Class man and many
a senior in Company B, reinforced by strong detachments from other
companies, had come to claim the acquaintance of Major-General Frazier,
and furthermore that the luckless Benny, instead of maintaining
good-humored reticence, and speaking only when he had to, was rapidly
adding to the array of charges laid at his door by trying to be
smart in reply. The sudden batter of the second drum transferred the
laughing, chaffing crowd into two silent, statuesque ranks, and for the
rest of that momentous hour, while doing his best to give his whole
thought to drill and duty, Geordie Graham found himself thinking, "Just
won't we catch it to-night!"