The Gentleman Cadet / His Career and Adventures at the Royal Military Academy Woolwich

by Alfred W. Drayson

A cadet (last-joined) was made to hold onto this rope with his hands, and his back turned to Brag and another old cadet. Brag, armed with a racket and some old balls, used then to strike a ball at the cadet, and if he hit him he counted one. Alternate shots were taken, and sixpence a shot was paid for each hit.

Brag was a capital shot, and I used to be “corked,” as he termed it, by him nearly every shot. The distance from the ground to the rope was about twelve feet, so that when we dropped, as we were compelled to at last, we came down rather heavily. As soon as one neux could hold on no longer, another was substituted in his place, who had to pass through the same ordeal. So contagious is bullying of this description, that in two or three days at least twenty old cadets took part in it, and it is difficult to say to what extent it might have been carried had not the officer on duty, suspecting probably that something irregular was going on, paid a visit to the gymnasium, and, seeing what was done, reported the circumstance, on which a court of inquiry was ordered to assemble, composed of officers connected with the Academy, whose duty it was to find out whether any bullying had occurred.

The assembly of this court caused quite a sensation in the Academy, as all the last-joined cadets were to be examined. The old cadets who had taken part in this affair now entirely altered their behaviour to their fags. Brag became quite civil to me, and hoped I wouldn’t split on him. He told me that he, when a neux, had to go through far worse things, and that by-and-by I should be an old cadet and should have the privilege of fagging; that of course he didn’t mean to hurt me, and hoped he hadn’t done so, and finished by asking me not to say anything that would get him into a scrape.

Snipson was even more anxious to persuade me that it was all a joke, and that it was absurd to make such a fuss about a mere trifle. In his day a neux had, he said, to go through far more, and it did them all good; he himself was a deal better for having the conceit taken out of him. He advised me to be very careful what I said before the court, for if, through anything I said, an old cadet got rusticated or into a scrape, I should lead such a life, he assured me, that I should wish myself a galley-slave instead of a cadet.

I had instantly made up my mind that I would say nothing to criminate any one. I hoped that by such a line of conduct I should show both Brag and Snipson that I could be generous. I hated them both, for I soon discovered they were very bad specimens of the old cadet, and that I was unlucky in having two such in my room. Some of the last-joined cadets told me they were not bullied at all, and the head of their room would not allow any other cadet to fag them, and, to prevent them from being fagged, gave them permission to say they were wanted by the head of their room, for “the instant another cadet tries to fag you, then you come to my room.”

On Saturdays and Sundays I usually went on leave, my father having written to several London friends telling them of my being a cadet at Woolwich. This leave was a great boon; it broke the monotony of the week, freed me from Brag and Snipson for about thirty hours, and gave me new ideas. At the Academy I was but a neux, and led a hard life of it; but when I visited my friends I found that a gentleman cadet was thought a great deal of, and I was considered to be remarkably clever in having passed into the Academy—my friends knowing many lads who were supposed clever, but who had failed at their examinations for Woolwich. These visits did me much good. I looked forward to them from week to week, and they tended to keep my mental balance straight; for as we when young judge often of ourselves by the estimate others form of us, so I had almost decided that I was most stupid, thoughtless, and careless, in consequence of Snipson always impressing upon me that I was so.

It not unfrequently happened, however, that I was turned out to extra drill twice during the week for some offences or other, usually for not being properly brushed on parade. It was my business to brush Brag and Snipson, and then Snipson ought to have brushed me. Often he avoided this, and said he “hadn’t time.” My only chance then was to take off my coat and brash it myself. If the time was limited I then could not get my coat on and get on parade quick enough to avoid being considered “slack in turning out;” for if a neux was not on parade by the time the bugle finished sounding, then he was usually turned out to drill to make him smarter.

Two drills stopped one’s leave, and I then had the discomfort of remaining at the Academy on Saturday and Sunday. The season of the year then did not admit of the Sunday march past on the barrack-field. The scene I had witnessed when at Hostler’s, however, was still fresh in my memory, and I looked forward to the time when I should march past as I had seen others do.

If Brag and Snipson were not on leave, I passed a Saturday and Sunday of utter misery. They used to bully me during the whole time. If they were on leave and I was seen about the Academy grounds, I was sure to be seized upon by some old cadet, whose neux was on leave, and who would fag me during the two days. If I remained in my room I was pretty sure to be found, and ordered off to another division, to supply the place of a neux on leave.

At length I adopted a plan by which I managed to escape the afternoon fagging on Saturday, and then usually managed to get a walk on Sunday afternoons.