ARMY AND NAVY
When the Navy meets the Army,
When the friend becomes the foe,
When the sailor and the soldier
Seek each other to o'erthrow;
When old vet'rans, gray and grizzled,
Elbow, struggle, push, and shove,
That they may cheer on to vict'ry
Each the service of his love;
When the maiden, fair and dainty,
Lets her dignity depart,
And, all breathless, does her utmost
For the team that's next her heart;
When you see these strange things happen,
Then we pray you to recall
That the Army and Navy
Stand firm friends beneath it all.
There is a distinctive flavor about an Army-Navy football game which,
irrespective of the quality of the contending elevens and of their
relative standing among the high-class teams in any given season, rates
these contests annually as among the "big games" of the year. Tactically
and strategically football bears a close relation to war. That is a
vital reason why it should be studied and applied in our two government
schools.
On the part of the public there is general appreciation of the spirit
which these two academies have brought into the great autumn sport, a
spirit which combines with football per se the color, the martial pomp,
the _elan_ of the military. The merger is a happy one, because football
in its essence is a stern, grim game, a game that calls for
self-sacrifice, for mental alertness and for endurance; all these are
elements, among others, which we commonly associate with the soldier's
calling.
If West Point and Annapolis players are not young men, who, after
graduation, will go out into the world in various civil professions or
other pursuits relating to commerce and industry, they are men, on the
contrary, who are being trained to uphold the honor of our flag at home
or abroad, as fate may decree--fighting men whose lives are to be
devoted to the National weal. It would be strange, therefore, if games
in which those thus set apart participate, were not marked by a quality
peculiarly their own. To far-flung warships the scores are sent on the
wings of the wireless and there is elation or depression in many a
remote wardroom in accordance with the aspect of the news. In lonely
army posts wherever the flag flies word of the annual struggle is
flashed alike to colonel and the budding second lieutenant still with
down on lip, by them passed to the top sergeant and so on to the bottom
of the line.
Every football player who has had the good fortune to visit West Point
or Annapolis, there to engage in a gridiron contest, has had an
experience that he will always cherish. Every team, as a rule, looks
forward to out of town trips, but when an eleven is to play the Army or
the Navy, not a little of the pleasure lies in anticipation.
Mayhap the visitor even now is recalling the officer who met him at the
station, and his hospitable welcome; the thrill that resulted from a
tour, under such pleasant auspices, of the buildings and the natural
surroundings of the two great academies. There was the historic campus,
where so many great Army and Navy men spent their preparatory days. An
inspiration unique in the experience of the visitor was to be found in
the drill of the battalion as they marched past, led by the famous
academy bands.
There arose in the heart of the stranger perhaps, the thought that he
was not giving to his country as much as these young men. Such is the
contagion of the spirit of the two institutions. There is always the
thrill of the military whether the cadets and midshipmen pass to the
urge of martial music in their purely military duties, or in equally
perfect order to the ordinary functions of life, such as the daily
meals, which in the colleges are so informal and in the mess hall are so
precise. Joining their orderly ranks in this big dining-room one comes
upon a scene never to be forgotten.
In the process of developing college teams, an eleven gets a real test
at either of these academies; you get what you go after; they are out to
beat you; their spirit is an indomitable one; your cherished idea that
you cannot be beaten never occurs to them until the final whistle is
blown. Your men will realize after the game that a bruised leg or a lame
joint will recall hard tackling of a player like Mustin of the Navy, or
Arnold of West Point, souvenirs of the dash they put into their play.
Maybe there comes to your mind a recollection of the Navy's fast
offense; their snappy play; the military precision with which their work
is done. Possibly you dream of the wriggling open field running of Snake
Izard, or the bulwark defense of Nichols; or in your West Point
experiences you are reminded of the tussle you had in suppressing the
brilliant Kromer, that clever little quarterback and field general, or
the task of stopping the forging King, the Army's old captain and
fullback.
Not less vivid are the memories of the spontaneous if measured cheering
behind these men--a whole-hearted support that was at once the
background and the incentive to their work. The "Siren Cheer" of the
Navy and the "Long Corps Yell" of the Army still ringing in the ears of
the college invader were proof of the drive behind the team.
I have always counted it a privilege that I was invited to coach at
Annapolis through several football seasons. It was an unrivalled
opportunity to catch the spirit that permeates the atmosphere of this
great Service school and to realize how eagerly the progress of football
is watched by the heroes of the past who are serving wherever duty
calls.
It was there that I met Superintendent Wainwright. His interest in
Annapolis football was keen. Another officer whose friendship I made at
the Academy was Commander Grant, who later was Rear Admiral, Commander
of the Submarine Flotilla. His spirit was truly remarkable. The way he
could talk to a team was an inspiration.
It was during the intermission of a Navy-Carlisle game when the score
was 11 to 6 in Carlisle's favor, that this exponent of fighting spirit
came into the dressing-room and in a talk to the team spared nothing and
nobody. What he said about the White man not being able to defeat the
Indian was typical. As a result of this unique dressing-room scene when
he commanded the Navy to win out over the Indians, his charges came
through to victory by the score of 17-11.
There is no one man at Annapolis who sticks closer to the ship and
around whom more football traditions have grown than Paul Dashiell, a
professor in the Academy. He bore for many years the burden of
responsibility of Annapolis football. His earnest desire has been to
see the Navy succeed. He has worked arduously, and whenever Navy men get
together they speak enthusiastically of the devotion of this former
Lehigh hero, official and rule maker. Players have come and gone; the
call in recent years has been elsewhere, but Paul Dashiell has remained,
and his interest in the game has been manifested by self-denial and hard
work. Defeat has come to him with great sadness, and there are many
games of which he still feels the sting; these come to him as nightmares
in his recollections of Annapolis football history. Great has been his
joy in the Navy's hour of victory.
It was here at Annapolis that I learned something of the old Navy
football heroes. Most brilliant of all, perhaps, was Worth Bagley, a
marvelous punter and great fighter. He lost his life later in the war
with Spain, standing to his duty under open fire on the deck of the
_Winslow_ at Cardenas, with the utter fearlessness that was
characteristic of him.
I heard of the deeds on the football field of Mike Johnson, Trench,
Pearson, McCormack, Cavanaugh, Reeves, McCauley, Craven, Kimball and
Bookwalter. I have played against the great Navy guard Halligan. I saw
developed the Navy players, Long, Chambers, Reed, Nichols and Chip
Smith, who later was in charge of the Navy athletics. He was one of the
best quarterbacks the Navy ever had. I saw Dug Howard grow up from
boyhood in Annapolis and develop into a Navy star; saw him later coach
their teams to victory; witnessed the great playing of Dougherty,
Piersol, Grady and Bill Carpenter, who is no longer on the Navy list.
All these players, together with Norton, Northcroft, Dague, Halsey,
Ingram, Douglas, Jerry Land, Babe Brown and Dalton stand out among those
who have given their best in Army and Navy games.
Young Nichols, who was quarterback in 1912, was a most brilliant ground
gainer. He resigned from the Service early in 1913, receiving a
commission in the British Army. He was wounded, but later returned to
duty only to be killed shortly afterward. Another splendid man.
In speaking of Navy football I cannot pass over the name of W. H.
Stayton, a man whose whole soul seemed to be permeated with Navy
atmosphere, and who is always to be depended upon in Navy matters. The
association that I formed later in life with McDonough Craven and other
loyal Navy football men gave me an opportunity to learn of Annapolis
football in their day.
The list of men who have been invited to coach the Navy from year to
year is a long one. The ideal method of development of an undergraduate
team is by a system of coaching conducted by graduates of that
institution. Such alumni can best preserve the traditions, correct
blunders of other years, and carry through a continuous policy along
lines most acceptable. Graduate coaching exclusively is nearly
impossible for Navy teams, for the graduates, as officers, are stationed
at far distant points, mostly on board ship. Their duties do not permit
of interruption for two months. They cannot be spared from turret and
bridge; from the team work so highly developed at present on shipboard.
Furthermore, their absence from our country sometimes for years, keeps
them out of touch with football generally, and it is impossible for them
to keep up to date--hence the coaching from other institutions.
[Illustration: NORTHCROFT KICKING THE FIELD GOAL ANTICIPATED BY THE NAVY
AND FEARED BY THE ARMY]
Lieutenant Frank B. Berrien was one of the early coaches and an able
one. Immediately afterward Dug Howard for three years coached the team
to victory. The Navy's football future was then turned over to Jonas
Ingram, with the idea of working out a purely graduate system, in the
face of such serious obstacles as have already been pointed out.
One of the nightmares of my coaching experiences was the day that the
Army beat the Navy through the combined effort of the whole Army team
plus the individual running of Charlie Daly. This run occurred at the
very start of the second half. Doc Hillebrand and I were talking on the
side lines to Evarts Wrenn, the Umpire. None of us heard the whistle
blow for the starting of the second half. Before we knew it the Army
sympathizers were on their feet cheering and we saw Daly hitting it up
the field, weaving through the Navy defense.
Harmon Graves, who was coaching West Point that year, has since told me
that the Army coaches had drilled the team carefully in receiving the
ball on a kick-off--with Daly clear back under the goal posts. On the
kick-off, the Navy did just what West Point had been trained to expect.
Belknap kicked a long high one direct to Daly, and then and there began
the carefully prepared advance of the Army team. Mowing down the
oncoming Navy players, the West Point forwards made it possible for
clever Daly to get loose and score a touchdown after a run of nearly the
entire length of the field.
This game stands out in my recollection as one of the most sensational
on record. The Navy, like West Point, had had many victories, but the
purpose of this book is not to record year by year the achievements of
these two institutions, but rather catch their spirit, as one from
without looks in upon a small portion of the busy life that is typical
of these Service schools.
Scattered over the seven seas are those who heard the reveille of
football at Annapolis. From a few old-timers let us garner their
experiences and the effects of football in the Service.
C. L. Poor, one of the veterans of the Annapolis squad, Varsity and
Hustlers, has something to say concerning the effect of football upon
the relationship between officers and men.
"Generally speaking," he says, "it is considered that the relationship
is beneficial. The young officer assumes qualities of leadership and
shows himself in a favorable light to the men, who appreciate his
ability to show them something and do it well. The average young
American, whether himself athletic or not, is a bit of a hero worshipper
towards a prominent athlete, and so the young officer who has good
football ability gets the respect and appreciation of the crew to start
with."
J. B. Patton, who played three years at Annapolis, says of the early
days:
"I entered the Academy in 1895. In those days athletics were not
encouraged. The average number of cadets was less than 200, and the
entrance age was from 14 to 18--really a boys' school. So when an
occasional college team appeared, they looked like old men to us.
"Match games were usually on Saturday afternoon, and all the cadets
spent the forenoon at sail drill on board the _Wyoming_ in Chesapeake
Bay. I can remember spending four hours racing up and down the top
gallant yard with Stone and Hayward, loosing and furling sail, and then
returning to a roast beef dinner, followed by two 45-minute halves of
football.
"One of our best games, as a rule, was with Johns Hopkins University.
Paul Dashiell, then a Hopkins man, usually managed to smuggle one or
more Poes to Annapolis with his team. We knew it, but at that time we
did not object because we usually beat the Hopkins team.
"Another interesting match was with the Deaf Mutes from Kendall College.
It was a standing joke with us that they too frequently smuggled good
football players who were not mutes. These kept silent during the game
and talked with their hands, but frequently when I tackled one hard and
fell on him, I could hear him cuss under his breath."
M. M. Taylor brings us down to Navy football of the early nineties.
"In my day the principal quality sought was beef. Being embryo sailors
we had to have nautical terms for our signals, and they made our
opponents sit up and take notice. When I played halfback I remember my
signals were my order relating to the foremast. For instance,
'Fore-top-gallant clew lines and hands-by-the-halyards' meant that I was
the victim. On the conclusion of the order, if the captain could not
launch a play made at once, he had to lengthen his signal, and sometimes
there would be a string of jargon, intelligible only to a sailor, which
would take the light yard men aloft, furl the sail, and probably cast
reflections on the stowage of the bunt. Anything connected with the
anchor was a kick. The mainmast was consecrated to the left half, and
the mizzen to the fullback.
"In one game our lack of proper uniform worked to our advantage. I was
on the sick list and had turned my suit over to a substitute. I braved
the doctor's disapproval and went into the game in a pair of long
working trousers and a blue flannel shirt. The opposing team,
Pennsylvania, hailed me as 'Little Boy Blue,' and paid no further
attention to me, so that by good fortune I made a couple of scores. Then
they fell upon me, and at the close all I had left was the pants."
J. W. Powell, captain of the '97 team, tells of the interim between
Army-Navy games.
"Our head coach was Johnny Poe," he says, "and he and Paul Dashiell took
charge of the squad. Some of our good men were Rus White, Bill Tardy,
Halligan and Fisher, holding over from the year before. A. T. Graham and
Jerry Landis in the line. A wild Irishman in the plebe class, Paddy
Shea, earned one end position in short order, while A. H. McCarthy went
in at the other wing. Jack Asserson, Bobby Henderson, Louis Richardson
and I made up the backfield. In '95, Princeton had developed their
famous ends back system which was adopted by Johnny Poe and the game we
played that year was built around this system. Johnny was a deadly
tackler and nearly killed half the team with his system of live tackling
practice. This was one of the years in which there was no Army and Navy
game and our big game was the Thanksgiving Day contest with Lafayette.
Barclay, Bray and Rinehart made Lafayette's name a terror in the
football world. The game resulted in an 18 to 6 victory for Lafayette.
"My most vivid recollections of that game are McCarthy's plucky playing
with his hand in a plaster cast, due to a broken bone, stopping Barclay
and Bray repeatedly in spite of this handicap, and my own touchdown,
after a twelve yard run, with Rinehart's 250 pounds hanging to me most
of the way."
I recall a trip that the Princeton team of 1898 made to West Point. It
was truly an attack upon the historical old school in a fashion de luxe.
Alex Van Rensselaer, an old Princeton football captain, invited Doc
Hillebrand to have the Tiger eleven meet him that Saturday morning at
the Pennsylvania Ferry slip in Jersey City. En route to West Point that
morning this old Princeton leader met us with his steam yacht, _The
May_. Boyhood enthusiasm ran high as we jumped aboard. Good fellowship
prevailed. We lunched on board, dressed on board. Upon our arrival at
West Point we were met by the Academy representative and were driven to
the football field.
The snappy work of the Princeton team that day brought victory, and we
attributed our success to the Van Rensselaer transport. Returning that
night on the boat, Doc Hillebrand and Arthur Poe bribed the captain of
_The May_ to just miss connecting with the last train to Princeton, and
as a worried manager sat alongside of Van Rensselaer wondering whether
it were not possible to hurry the boat along a little faster, Van
Rensselaer himself knew what was in Doc's mind and so helped make it
possible for us to rest at the Murray Hill Hotel over night, and not
allow a railroad trip to Princeton mar the luxury of the day.
I have a lot of respect for the football brains of West Point. My lot
has been very happily cast with the Navy. I have generally been on the
opposite side of the field. I knew the strength of their team. I have
learned much of the spirit of the academy from their cheering at Army
and Navy games. Playing against West Point our Princeton teams have
always realized the hard, difficult task which confronted them, and
victory was not always the reward.
Football plays a valued part in the athletic life of West Point. From
the very first game between the Army and the Navy on the plains when the
Middies were victorious, West Point set out in a thoroughly businesslike
way to see that the Navy did not get the lion's share of victories.
If one studies the businesslike methods of the Army Athletic Association
and reads carefully the bulletins which are printed after each game, one
is impressed by the attention given to details.
I have always appreciated what King, '96, meant to West Point football.
Let me quote from the publication of the _Howitzer_, in 1896, the
estimated value of this player at that time:
"King, of course, stands first. Captain for two years he brought West
Point from second class directly into first. As fullback he outplayed
every fullback opposed to him and stands in the judgment of all
observers second only to Brooke of Pennsylvania. Let us read what King
has to say of a period of West Point football not widely known.
"I first played on the '92 team," he says. "We had two Navy games before
this, but they were not much as I look back upon them. At this time we
had for practice that period of Saturday afternoon after inspection.
That gave us from about 3 P. M. on. We also had about fifteen
minutes between dinner and the afternoon recitations, and such days as
were too rainy to drill, and from 5:45 A. M., to 6:05 A. M.
Later in the year when it grew too cold to drill, we had the
time after about 4:15 P. M., but it became dark so early that
we didn't get much practice. We practiced signals even by moonlight.
"Visiting teams used to watch us at inspection, two o'clock. We were in
tight full dress clothes, standing at attention for thirty to forty-five
minutes just before the game. A fine preparation for a stiff contest. We
had quite a character by the name of Stacy, a Maine boy. He was a
thickset chap, husky and fast. He never knew what it was to be stopped.
He would fight it out to the end for every inch. Early in one of the
Yale games he broke a rib and started another, but the more it hurt, the
harder he played. In a contest with an athletic club in the last
non-collegiate game we ever played, the opposing right tackle was
bothering us. In a scrimmage Stacy twisted the gentleman's nose very
severely and then backed away, as the man followed him, calling out to
the Umpire. Stacy held his face up and took two of the nicest punches in
the eyes that I ever saw. Of course, the Umpire saw it, and promptly
ruled the puncher out, just as Stacy had planned.
"Just before the Spanish War Stacy became ill. Orders were issued that
regiments should send officers to the different cities for the purpose
of recruiting. He was at this time not fit for field service, so was
assigned to this duty. He protested so strongly that in some way he was
able to join his regiment in time to go to Cuba with his men. He
participated in all the work down there; and when it was over, even he
had to give in. He was sent to Montauk Point in very bad shape. He
rallied for a time and obtained sick leave. He went to his old home in
Maine, where he died. It was his old football grit that kept him going
in Cuba until the fighting was over.
"No mention of West Point's football would be complete without the name
of Dennis Michie. He is usually referred to as the Father of Football
at the Academy. He was captain of the first two teams we ever had. He
played throughout the Navy game in '91 with ten boils on his back and
neck. He was a backfield man and one of West Point's main line backers.
He was most popular as a cadet and officer and was killed in action at
San Juan, Cuba.
"One of the longest runs when both yards and time are considered ever
pulled off on a football field, was made by Duncan, '95, in our
Princeton game of '93. Duncan got the ball on his 5-yard line on a
fumble, and was well under way before he was discovered. Lott, '96,
later a captain of Cavalry, followed Duncan to interfere from behind.
The only Princeton man who sensed trouble was Doggy Trenchard. He set
sail in pursuit. He soon caught up with Lott and would have caught
Duncan, but for the latter's interference. Duncan finally scored the
touchdown, having made the 105 yards in what would have been fast time
for a Wefers.
"We at West Point often speak of Balliet's being obliged to call on Phil
King to back him up that day, as Ames, one of our greatest centres, was
outplaying him, and of the rage of Phil King, because on every point,
Nolan, '96, tackled him at once and prevented King from making those
phenomenal runs which characterized his playing."
Harmon Graves of Yale is a coach who has contributed much to West
Point's football.
"Harmon Graves is too well known now as coach to need our praise," says
a West Pointer, "but it is not only as a successful coach, but as a
personal friend that he lives in the heart of every member of the team
and indeed the entire corps. There will always be a sunny spot at West
Point for Graves."
In a recent talk with Harmon Graves he showed me a beautifully engraved
watch presented to him by the Cadet Corps of West Point, a treasure
prized.
Of the privileged days spent at West Point Graves writes, as follows:
"Every civilian who has the privilege of working with the officers and
cadets at West Point to accomplish some worthy object comes away a far
better man than when he went there. I was fortunate enough to be asked
by them to help in the establishment of football at the Academy and for
many years I gave the best I had and still feel greatly their debtor.
"At West Point amateur sport flourishes in its perfection, and a very
high standard of accomplishment has been attained in football. There are
no cross-cuts to the kind of football success West Point has worked for:
it is all a question of merit based on competency, accuracy and fearless
execution. Those of us who have had the privilege of assisting in the
development of West Point football have learned much of real value from
the officers and cadets about the game and what really counts in the
make-up of a successful team. It is fair to say that West Point has
contributed a great deal to football generally and has, in spite of many
necessary time restrictions, turned out some of the best teams and
players in the last fifteen years.
"The greatest credit is due to the Army Officers Athletic Association,
which, through its football representatives, started right and then
pursued a sound policy which has placed football at West Point on a firm
basis, becoming the standing and dignity of the institution.
"There have been many interesting and amusing incidents in connection
with football at West Point which help to make up the tradition of the
game there and are many times repeated at any gathering of officers and
cadets. I well remember when Daly, the former Harvard Captain, modestly
took his place as a plebe candidate for the team and sat in the front
row on the floor of the gymnasium when I explained to the squad, and
illustrated by the use of a blackboard, what he and every one else there
knew was the then Yale defense. There was, perhaps, the suggestion of a
smile all around when I began by saying that from then on we were
gathered there for West Point and to make its team a success that season
and not for the benefit of Harvard or Yale. He told me afterwards that
he had never understood the defense as I had explained it. He mastered
it and believed in it, as he won and kept his place on the team and
learned some things from West Point football,--as we all did.
"The rivalry with the Navy is wholesome and intense, as it should be. My
friend, Paul Dashiell, who fully shares that feeling, has much to do
with the success of the Navy team, and the development of football at
the Naval Academy. After a West Point victory at Philadelphia, he came
to the West Point dressing room and offered his congratulations. As I
took his hand, I noted that tears were in his eyes and that his voice
shook. The next year the Navy won and I returned the call. I was feeling
rather grim, but when I found him surrounded by the happy Navy team, he
was crying again and hardly smiled when I offered my congratulation, and
told him that it really made no difference which team won for he cried
anyway.
"The sportsmanship and friendly rivalry which the Army and Navy game
brings out in both branches of the Service is admirable and unique and
reaches all officers on the day of the game wherever in the world they
are. Real preparedness is an old axiom at West Point and it has been
applied to football. There I learned to love my country and respect the
manhood and efficiency of the Army officers in a better way than I did
before. I recall the seasons I have spent there with gratitude and
affection, both for the friends I have made and for the Army spirit."
Siding with the Navy has enabled me to know West Point's strength. Any
mention of West Point's football would be incomplete without the names
of some officers who have not only safeguarded the game at West Point,
but have been the able representatives of the Army's football during
their service there. Such men are, Richmond P. Davis, Palmer E. Pierce,
and W. R. Richardson.
THE WAY THEY HAVE IN THE ARMY
If there is any one man who has permanently influenced football at West
Point that man is H. J. Koehler, for years Master of the Sword at the
Academy. Under his active coaching some of the Army's finest players
were developed. In recent years he has not been a member of the coaching
staff, but he none the less never loses touch with the team and his
advice concerning men and methods is always eagerly sought. By virtue of
long experience at the Academy and because of an aptitude for analysis
of the game itself he has been invaluable in harmonizing practice and
play with peculiar local conditions.
Any time the stranger seeks to delve either into the history or the
constructive coaching of the game at the Academy, the younger men, as
well as the older, will always answer your questions by saying "Go ask
Koehler." Always a hard worker and serious thinker, he is apt to give
an almost nightly demonstration during the season of the foundation
principles of the game.
Not only West Pointers, but also Yale and Princeton men, who had to face
the elevens under Koehler's coaching will remember Romeyn, who, had he
been kicking in the days of Felton, Mahan and the other long distance
artillerists, might well have held his own, in the opinion of Army men.
Nesbitt, Waldron and Scales were among the other really brilliant
players whom Koehler developed. He was in charge of some of the teams
that played the hardest schedules in the history of West Point football.
One year the cadets met Harvard, Yale, Princeton, Columbia, Syracuse and
Penn State. Surely this was a season's work calculated to develop
remarkable men, or break them in the making. Bettison, center, King
Boyers at guard, and Bunker at tackle and half, were among the splendid
players who survived this trial by fire. Casad, Clark and Phillips made
up a backfield that would have been a credit to any of the colleges.
Soon, however, the Army strength was greatly to be augmented by the
acquisition of Charles Dudley Daly, fresh from four years of football at
Harvard. Reputations made elsewhere do not count for much at West Point.
The coaches were glad to have Plebe Daly come out for the squad, but
they knew and he knew quite as well as they, that there are no short
cuts to the big "A." Now began a remarkable demonstration of football
genius. Not only did the former Harvard Captain make the team, but his
aid in coaching was also eagerly sought. An unusual move this, but a
tribute to the new man.
Daly was modesty itself in those days as he has been ever since, even
when equipped with the yellow jacket and peacock feather of the head
coach. As player and as coach and often as the two combined, Daly's
connection with West Point football covered eight years, in the course
of which he never played on or coached a losing team. His record against
the Navy alone is seven victories and one tie, 146 points to 33. His
final year's coaching was done in 1915. From West Point he was sent to
Hawaii, whence he writes me, as follows:
"There are certain episodes in the game that have always been of
particular interest to me, such as Ely's game playing with broken ribs
in the Harvard-Yale game of 1898; Charlie de Saulles' great playing with
a sprained ankle in the Yale-Princeton game of the same year; the
tackling of Bunker by Long of the Navy in the Army-Navy game of
1902--the hardest tackle I have ever seen; and the daring quarterback
work of Johnny Cutler in the Harvard-Dartmouth 1908 game, when he
snatched victory from defeat in the last few minutes of play."
Undoubtedly Daly's deep study of strategy and tactics as used in warfare
had a great deal to do with his continued ascendency as a coach.
Writing to Herbert Reed, one of the pencil and paper football men, with
whom he had had many a long argument over the generalship of the game,
he said in part:
"Football within the limitations of the rules and sportsmanship is a war
game. Either by force or by deception it advances through the opposition
to the goal line, which might be considered the capital of the enemy."
It was in Daly's first year that a huge Southerner, with a pleasant
drawl, turned up in the plebe class. It was a foregone conclusion almost
on sight that Ernest, better known to football men throughout the
country as Pot Graves, would make the Eleven. He not only played the
game almost flawlessly from the start, but he made so thorough a study
of line play in general that his system, even down to the most intimate
details of face to face coaching filed away for all time in that secret
library of football methods at West Point, has come to be known as
Graves' Bible.
Daly, still with that ineradicable love for his own Alma Mater, lent a
page or two from this tome to Harvard, and even the author appeared in
person on Soldiers' Field. The manner in which Graves made personal
demonstration of his teachings will not soon be forgotten by the Harvard
men who had to face Pot Graves.
Graves has always believed in the force mentioned in Daly's few lines
quoted above on the subject of military methods as applied to football.
While always declaring that the gridiron was no place for a fist fight,
he always maintained that stalwarts should be allowed to fight it out
with as little interference by rule as possible. As a matter of fact,
Graves was badly injured in a game with Yale, and for a long time
afterwards hobbled around with a troublesome knee. He knew the man who
did it, but would never tell his name, and he contents himself with
saying "I have no ill will--he got me first. If he hadn't I would have
got him."
A story is told of Graves' impatience with the members of a little
luncheon party, who in the course of an argument on the new football,
were getting away from the fundamentals. Rising and stepping over to the
window of the Officers' Club, he said, with a sleepy smile: "Come here a
minute, you fellows," and, pointing down to the roadway, added, "there's
_my_ team." Looking out of the window the other members of the party saw
a huge steam roller snorting and puffing up the hill.
Among the men who played football with Graves and were indeed of his
type, were Doe and Bunker. Like Graves, Bunker in spite of his great
weight, was fast enough to play in the backfield in those years when
Army elevens were relying so much upon terrific power. Those were the
days when substitutes had very little opportunity. In the final Navy
game of 1902 the same eleven men played for the Army from start to
finish.
In this period of Army football other first-class men were developed,
notably Torney, a remarkable back, Thompson, a guard, and Tom Hammond,
who was later to make a reputation as an end coach. Bunker was still
with this aggregation, an eleven that marched fifty yards for a
touchdown in fifteen plays against the midshipmen. The Army was among
the early Eastern teams to test Eastern football methods against those
of the West, the Cadets defeating a team from the University of Chicago
on the plains.
The West Pointers had only one criticism to make of their visitors, and
it was laconically put by one of the backs, who said:
"They're all-fired fast, but it's funny how they stop when you tackle
them."
In this lineup was A. C. Tipton, at center, to whom belongs the honor of
forcing the Rules Committee to change the code in one particular in
order to stop a maneuver which he invented while in midcareer in a big
game. No one will ever forget how, when chasing a loose ball and
realizing that he had no chance to pick it up, he kicked it again and
again until it crossed the final chalk mark where he fell on it for a
touchdown. Tipton was something of a wrestler too, as a certain
Japanese expert in the art of Jiu-jitsu can testify and indeed did
testify on the spot after the doctors had brought him too.
There was no lowering of the standards in the succeeding years, which
saw the development of players like Hackett, Prince, Farnsworth and
Davis. Those years too saw the rise of such wonderful forwards as W. W.
(Red) Erwin and that huge man from Alaska, D. D. Pullen.
Coming now to more recent times, the coaching was turned over to H. M.
Nelly, assisted by Joseph W. Beacham, fresh from chasing the little
brown brother in the Philippines. Beacham had made a great reputation at
Cornell, and there was evidence that he had kept up with the game at
least in the matter of strategic possibilities, even while in the
tangled jungle of Luzon. He brought with him even more than that--an
uncanny ability to see through the machinery of the team and pick out
its human qualities, upon which he never neglected to play. There have
been few coaches closer to his men than Joe.
Whenever I talk football with Joe Beacham he never forgets to mention
Vaughn Cooper, to whom he gives a large share of the credit for the good
work of his elevens. Cooper was of the quiet type, whose specialty was
defense. These two made a great team.
It was in this period that West Point saw the development of one of its
greatest field generals. There was nothing impressive in the physical
appearance of little H. L. Hyatt. A reasonably good man, ball in hand,
his greatest value lay in his head work. As the West Point trainer said
one day: "I've got him all bandaged up like a leg in a puttee, but from
the neck up he's a piece of ice." The charts of games in which Hyatt ran
the team are set before the squad each year as examples, not merely of
perfect generalship, but of the proper time to violate that generalship
and make it go, a distinction shared by Prichard, who followed in his
footsteps with added touches of his own.
One cannot mention Prichard's name without thinking at once of Merillat,
who, with Prichard, formed one of the finest forward passing
combinations the game has seen. Both at Franklin Field and at the Polo
Grounds this pair brought woe to the Navy.
These stars had able assistance in the persons of McEwan, one of the
greatest centers the game has seen and who was chosen to lead the team
in 1916, Weyand, Neyland and O'Hare, among the forwards, and the
brilliant and sturdy Oliphant in the backfield, the man whose slashing
play against the Navy in 1915 will never be forgotten. Oliphant was of a
most unusual type. Even when he was doing the heaviest damage to the
Navy Corps the midshipmen could not but admire his wonderful work.
What the Hustlers are to Annapolis the Cullom Hall team is to West
Point. It is made up of the leftovers from the first squad and
substitutes. One would travel far afield in search of a team with more
spirit and greater pep in action, whether playing in outside games, or
as their coach would put it, "showing up" the first Eleven. Not
infrequently a player of the highest caliber is developed in this squad
and taken to the first eleven.
The Cullom Hall squad, whose eleven generally manages to clean up some
of the strongest school teams of the Hudson Valley, draws not a little
of its spirit, I think, from the late Lieutenant E. M. Zell, better
known at the Academy as "Jobey." It was a treat to see the Cullom Hall
team marching down the field against the first Eleven with the roly-poly
figure of Jobey in the thick of every scrimmage, coaching at the top of
his lungs, even when bowled over by the interference of his own pupils.
Since his time the squad has been turned over to Lieutenants Sellack and
Crawford, who have kept alive the traditions and the playing spirit of
this unique organization.
Their reward for the bruising, hard work, with hardly a shadow of the
hope of getting their letter, comes in seeing the great game itself.
Like the college scrub teams the hardest rooters for the Varsity are to
be found in their ranks.
Now for the game itself. Always hard fought, always well fought, there
is perhaps no clash of all the year that so wakes the interest of the
general public, that vast throng which, without college affiliations,
is nevertheless hungry for the right of allegiance somewhere, somehow.
While the Service Elevens are superbly supported by the men who have
been through the exacting mill at West Point and Annapolis--their
sweethearts and wives, not to mention sisters, cousins, uncles and
aunts--they are urged on to battle by that great impartial public which
believes that in a sense these two teams belong to it. It is not
uncommon to find men who have had no connection with either academy in
hot argument as to the relative merits of the teams.
Once in the stands some apparently trifling thing begets a partisanship
that this class of spectator is wont to wonder at after it is all over.
Whether in Philadelphia in the earlier history of these contests on
neutral ground, or in New York, Army and Navy Day has become by tacit
consent the nearest thing to a real gridiron holiday. For the civilian
who has been starved for thrilling action and the chance to cheer
through the autumn days, the jam at the hotels used as headquarters by
the followers of the two elevens satisfies a yearning that he has
hitherto been unable to define. There too, is found a host of old-time
college football men and coaches who hold reunion and sometimes even
bury hatchets. Making his way through the crowds and jogging elbows with
the heroes of a sport that he understands only as organized combat he
becomes obsessed with the spirit of the two fighting institutions.
Once in possession of the coveted ticket he hies himself to the field as
early as possible, if he is wise, in order to enjoy the preliminaries
which are unlike those at any other game. Soon his heart beats faster,
attuned to the sound of tramping feet without the gates. The measured
cadence swells, draws nearer, and the thousands rise as one, when first
the long gray column and then the solid ranks of blue swing out upon the
field. The precision of the thing, the realization that order and system
can go so far as to hold in check to the last moment the enthusiasms of
these youngsters thrills him to the core. Then suddenly gray ranks and
blue alike break for the stands, there to cut loose such a volume of now
orderly, now merely frenzied noise as never before smote his ears.
It is inspiration and it is novelty. The time, the place and the men
that wake the loyalty dormant in every man which, sad to say, so seldom
has a chance of expression.
Around the field are ranged diplomat, dignitary of whatsoever rank, both
native and foreign. In common with those who came to see, as well as to
be seen--and who does not boast of having been to the Army-Navy
game--they rise uncovered as the only official non-partisan of football
history enters the gates--the President of the United States. Throughout
one half of the game he lends his support to one Academy and in the
intermission makes triumphal progress across the field, welcomed on his
arrival by a din of shouting surpassing all previous effort, there to
support their side.
[Illustration: CADETS AND MIDDIES ENTERING THE FIELD]
It is perhaps one of those blessed hours in the life of a man upon whom
the white light so pitilessly beats, when he can indulge in the popular
sport, to him so long denied, of being merely human.
Men, methods, moods pass on. The years roll by, taking toll of every one
of us from highest to lowest. Yet, whether we are absorbed in the game
of games, or whether we look upon it as so many needs must merely as a
spectacle, the Army-Navy game will remain a milestone never to be
uprooted. I have spoken elsewhere and at length of football traditions.
The Army-Navy game is not merely a football tradition but an American
institution. It is for all the people every time.
May this great game go on forever, serene in its power to bring out the
best that is in us, and when the Great Bugler sounds the silver-sweet
call of taps for all too many, there will still be those who in their
turn will answer the call of reveille to carry on the traditions of the
great day that was ours.