While living at Highland Falls Edward continually met the officers and soldiers of West Point. A soldier at one time was the leader of his choir, in which was also a quartet from the military band. He writes as follows of a mountain camp at West Point which recalled some of his own army life:—
"About the middle of August the Cadet Corps left their airy tent villas on the plain at West Point, and took up their line of march for the mountains. The pioneers had preceded, and the road was practicable not only for infantry, but for carriages and stages laden with fair ladies from the hotels. The selected camping ground, though rough indeed compared with the velvet lawns of West Point, was admirably adapted for the purpose. It was a broken, uneven field, on the property of T. Cozzens, Esq. Here in the midst of the wildest mountain scenery the young soldiers experienced, to quite an extent, the realities of life at the front, minus the element of danger. But the mimicry was almost perfect, and so suggestive of bygone days to an old campaigner, that I cannot refrain from indulging in a brief description.
"A wild, romantic drive of three or four miles through winding valleys, jagged boulders and ledges, and overshadowing trees, brought us to the edge of the camp-ground. Along the road ran the familiar military telegraph, the wire now looped up to a convenient tree, now sustained by the slender portable pole that bends but never breaks beneath the seemingly gossamer strand. Just before reaching the place we struck off upon one of those temporary roads that we were ever extemporizing in Virginia. First we saw the white tents through the foliage, then the gleaming of a sentry's musket, the cover of an ambulance, and in a moment more we were in the midst of the encampment, and the spell was complete. Through the strong laws of association the old life rushed back again, and what often seems a far-away dream was as present and real as six years ago. But apart from all its suggestiveness to those who dwelt in canvas cities and engaged in war's realities, the scene was novel, beautiful, and deeply interesting. Here in the midst of the wooded highlands was a fac-simile, reproduced in miniature, of thousands of encampments, created by the Rebellion, in the equally wild regions of the Southern States. Here were our future generals learning to apply practically to the roughness of nature the principles and tactics that might seem comparatively easy on paper or grassy plain. Sloping down to the right, the encampment bordered on Round Pond, a beautiful, transparent little lake, fringed with water-lilies, and mirroring back the rocks and foliage of its rugged banks. Through the courtesy of Mr. Cozzens we and others were soon skimming its surface in an airy little pleasure boat. A quarter of a mile to the left, in full view, with a descent of a hundred feet, Long Pond glistened in the bright August sun. All around rose the green billowy hills as far as the eye could reach. We had hardly noted this beautiful commingling of wood and water before the stirring notes of the drum announced skirmish drill. On each side of the camp a squad marched briskly out, and was soon lost in the forest. Soon from its unseen depths there came a shot, then another, then several, ending in a rapid, scattering fire, and I was back again on the skirmish line in Virginia. By this time the other detachment had reached position, and were 'popping' away in the old familiar style. The hills caught up the reports and echoed them down again multiplied a hundredfold.
"Rock, glen, and cavern paid them back;
To many mingled sounds at once,
The awakened mountain gave response;"
and these regions of silvan peace and solitude were disturbed as they never had been since the days when Washington made West Point his military base, and Fort Putnam was the chief Highland stronghold.
"On a high eminence to the right fluttered a signal flag. I shall never forget the last time that my special attention was called to that very significant object. It was on a bold ledge of the Blue Ridge west of Culpepper, Va. We were out on picket, lounging away a long bright October afternoon, when in the far distance a white flutter like that of a lady's handkerchief caught the wary eye of the colonel. Listlessness vanished. All glasses were out, but practised eyes discovered, not a token of ladies' favor, but a signal of stern war. Lee was turning our right flank, and then followed the famous race for Centreville heights.
"But the sun had sunk behind a blue Highland, and the tap of the drum announcing parade recalled from reminiscences of the past. Creaking, groaning, crunching up the rough road came stages, carriages, and wagons of all descriptions laden with fair ladies, who in bright summer costumes seemed airy indeed, but from the looks of the jaded horses, were anything but thistle-downs. The wild mountain camp was soon brilliant with Fifth Avenue toilets. There was a general 'presenting of arms,' though not with belligerent aspect, and it required no astrologer to predict a conjunction of Mars and Venus. Old fogy that I was, recalling the days of our humdrum soldiering long and well gone by, here I was in the midst of a brilliant active campaign, where wounds were given and received, human hearts pierced to the very circumference—perhaps deeper sometimes. Yon tall, soldierly figure of the commandant is a secondary one here. Cupid is the field marshal of the day. With the near approach of night there was a suspension of hostilities. The fair invaders gradually drew off their attacking forces, and soon were lost in the deeper shadows that lay at the mountain base. The next morning at 8 a.m., the Cadet Corps returned to their encampment on the plain at West Point."
My brother's attitude toward West Point is clearly shown in the following vigorous defence of the National Academy which was published in The Evangelist.