Tom Taylor at West Point

by Frank V. Webster

“Oh, I didn’t get him out. He got himself out,” Tom answered. “But I’m glad, too, that he’s gone. We’ve got some stiff work ahead of us, and he’d only make it all the harder for us.”

There was indeed hard work, but it was compensated for when Tom and his chums finally got into the first class—that is they were now beginning their fourth, and final, year at West Point. They now had many more privileges than at first. They could leave camp when they liked, after duty; they had first choice of horses and rooms—in fact they were very superior beings compared to the poor plebes.

Tom’s mother, now properly installed in a fine home in Chester, came to see him, and he took her about West Point, from Flirtation Walk to Fort Putnam and Old Fort Clinton—to all the places of interest—so that she enjoyed herself very much. She was very proud of her son, and Tom’s chums made much of his mother.

Tom devoted himself diligently to his studies. Civil and military engineering formed a large part, during that last year, and naturally gunnery and ordnance were made much of. Tom had developed into one of the best riders at the Academy, and there were some daring and reckless ones.

It was an inspiring sight to see the first class of seventy cadets charge at top gallop across the gravel plain, sabres flashing in the sun. From a line near the hedge they would start toward the chapel. Then, when the bugle blew, as they were riding as if to charge an enemy, Tom and his fellow riders would raise their sabres high in the air, and yell “fit to split their throats.”

Then would come light artillery drill, with the cannon rattling across the plain to be wheeled into line and fired. The very horses seemed to delight in the excitement and din, and certainly Tom and his fellows enjoyed it.

June was approaching—Graduation June—when Tom would leave West Point, to become a second lieutenant in the regular army. One day in February the gunner at Tom’s table made the usual announcement of “One Hundred Days till June.” And there was the usual rising to greet the sun. Then came the “One Hundred Nights’ Entertainment,” a function replete with fun, marking as it does the last cycle before the final exercises. A play was given, Tom taking a girl’s part with such effect that he was recalled again and again.

But it was not all fun—that closing of the final year. There was hard mental labor to be done in order to pass the examinations, and Tom had to work hard, as did his chums. Tom was trying for high class honors, and stood a good chance of winning them. Others were content to take what they could get.

Tom made the acquaintance of some charming young ladies, and had many a good time at the hops and other entertainments that marked the graduation period.

There were drills, parades and inspections. In the riding hall each cadet tried to outdo the others in skill and daring; in reckless riding with drawn sabres, cutting at the leather heads on set-up posts; in riding at the rings; in all the usual exploits. Some rode bareback, others leaped hurdles, still others rode two horses at once, standing with one foot on the back of each.