Grant's father had obtained his son's appointment to the Academy through
the intervention of a member of Congress, who, remembering that the boy
was known as Ulysses and that his mother's name before her marriage was
Simpson, had written to the Secretary of War at Washington, requesting
a cadetship for U. S. Grant. This mistake in his initials was not
discovered until the young man presented himself at West Point, but when
he explained that his name was Hiram Ulysses Grant and not U. S. Grant,
the officials would not correct the error. The Secretary of War had
appointed U. S. Grant to the Academy and U. S. Grant was the only person
they would officially recognize without further orders. They, therefore,
intimated that he could either enroll himself as U. S. Grant or stay out
of the Academy, making it quite plain that they cared very little
which course he adopted. Confronted with this situation, he signed the
enlistment paper as U. S. Grant and the document, bearing his name,
which thus became his, can be seen to-day among the records at West
Point. This re-christening, of course, supplied his comrades with
endless suggestions for nicknames and they immediately interpreted his
new initials to suit themselves. "United States," "Under Sized" and
"Uncle Sam" all seemed to be appropriate, but the last was the favorite
until the day arrived when a more significant meaning was found in
"Unconditional Surrender" Grant.
The restrictions and discipline of West Point bore much more harshly
on country-bred boys in those years than they do to-day when so many
schools prepare students for military duties. But to a green lad
like Grant, who had been exceptionally independent all his life, the
preliminary training was positive torture. It was then that his habitual
silence stood him in good stead, for a talkative, argumentative boy
could never have survived the breaking-in process which eventually
transformed him from a slouchy bumpkin into a smart, soldier-like young
fellow who made the most of his not excessive inches. Still, he hated
almost every moment of his first year and ardently hoped that the bill
for abolishing the Academy, which was under discussion in Congress,
would become a law and enable him to return home without disgrace. But
no such law was passed and more experience convinced him that West Point
was a very valuable institution which should be strengthened rather than
abolished. He had not reached this conclusion, however, at the time of
his first furlough, and when he returned to his more and found that
his father had procured a fine horse for his exclusive use during
his holiday, it was hard to tear himself away and resume his duties.
Nevertheless, he did so; and, considering the fact that he was not fond
of studying, he made fair progress, especially in mathematics, never
reaching the head of his class, but never quite sinking to the bottom.
Indeed, if he had not been careless in the matter of incurring demerits
from small infractions of the rules, he might have attained respectable,
if not high rank in the corps, for he was a clean living, clean spoken
boy, without a vicious trait of any kind. Even as it was, he became a
sergeant, but inattention to details of discipline finally cost him his
promotion and reduced him again to the ranks. At no time, however, did
he acquire any real love for the military profession. His sole ambition
was to pass the examinations and retire from the service as soon as he
could obtain a professorship at some good school or college. At this,
he might easily have succeeded with his unmistakable talent for
mathematics, and it is even conceivable that he might have qualified as
a drawing master or an architect, if not as an artist, for he was
fond of sketching and some of his works in this line which have been
preserved shows a surprisingly artistic touch.
Graduation day at the Academy brought no distinguished honors to Grant,
where he stood twenty-first in a class of thirty-nine, but it did win
him one small triumph. As almost everyone knows, the West Point cadets
are trained for all arms of the service, sometimes doing duty as
infantry, sometimes as artillery and at other times acting as engineers
or cavalry; and during the closing week of the year, they give public
exhibitions of their proficiency before the official visitors. On this
particular occasion the cavalry drill was held in the great riding hall,
and after the whole corps had completed their evolutions and were
formed in line ready to be dismissed, the commanding officer ordered
an extraordinarily high hurdle to be placed in position, and while the
great throng of spectators were wondering what this meant they heard the
sharp command, "Cadet Grant."
A young man of slight stature, not weighing more than a hundred and
twenty pounds, and mounted on a powerful chestnut horse, sprang from the
ranks with a quick salute, dashed to the further end of the hall and,
swinging his mount about, faced the hurdle. There was a moment's pause
and then the rider, putting spurs to his steed, rushed him straight at
the obstruction and, lifting him in masterly fashion, cleared the bar as
though he and the animal were one. A thunder of applause followed as the
horseman quietly resumed his place in the ranks, and after the corps had
been dismissed Grant was sought out and congratulated on his remarkable
feat. But his response was characteristic of the boy that was, and the
man that was to be. "Yes, 'York' is a wonderfully good horse," was all
he said.
A lieutenancy in the engineers or cavalry was more than a man of low
standing in the Academy could expect, and Grant was assigned to the
Fourth Infantry, with orders to report for duty at Jefferson Barracks,
St. Louis, Missouri, at the end of a short leave of absence. The
prospect of active service, far from his native state, was anything but
pleasing to the new officer; but he had come home with a bad cough,
and had he not been ordered to the South, it is highly probable that he
would have fallen a victim to consumption, of which two of his uncles
had already died. The air of Camp Salubrity, Louisiana, where his
regiment was quartered, and the healthy, outdoor life, however, quickly
checked the disease, and at the end of two years he had acquired a
constitution of iron.
Meanwhile, he had met Miss Julia Dent, the sister of one of his
classmates whose home was near St. Louis, and had written to the
Professor of Mathematics at West Point, requesting his aid in securing
an appointment there as his assistant, to which application he received
a most encouraging reply. Doubtless, his courtship of Miss Dent made him
doubly anxious to realize his long-cherished plan of settling down
to the quiet life of a professor. But all hope of this was completely
shattered by the orders of the Fourth Infantry which directed it to
proceed at once to Texas. Long before the regiment marched, however, he
was engaged to "the girl he left behind him" and, although his dream
of an instructorship at West Point had vanished, he probably did not
altogether abandon his ambition for a career at teaching. But Fate had
other plans for him as he journeyed toward Mexico, where the war clouds
were gathering. Lee was moving in the same direction and their trails
were soon to merge at the siege of Vera Cruz.