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Reporting for Duty
There is, however, about certain fellow passengers, lean lank youths like himself, something responsive, something about their hats, something about the unnatural droop of the shoulders, the new suitcases, the same fearful look that draws him to their side. “Are you a candidate, too?” he asks hopefully. An answer is unnecessary. Instinct again has won, and the flood-gates of friendship are unreservedly opened to the newly made companion about to enter the Land of Egypt and the House of Bondage. We are timid creatures all of us, and even the strongest suffer a twinge of timidity, a queer feeling in the seat of compassion, when about to penetrate the mystery surrounding an unknown life. At such a moment we all want to be little children, to have someone take us under shelter. We would like to run away from ugly, grim Reality that relentlessly blocks our way and with whom we must battle before we can go forward.
A sort of vague terror pervades the candidate as he climbs the hill from the station to the Adjutant’s office where he must report, but he grasps his suitcase and sets forth for the Headquarters Building where his directions tell him to report upon his arrival. If he is ahead of time he goes to the hotel where he finds a great many candidates, some of whom have been at the Point several days trying to absorb some impressions before reporting. Here friends are quickly made. On the day that they are all ordered to report, when they feel that they are about to bid farewell to their civilian freedom, they reluctantly set out for Headquarters. Unwilling though they may be to report, few ever in after life regret having entered the Academy.
The Rubicon once passed, however, no time is lost in the administrative routine of receiving the raw material. After reporting to the Adjutant, the new cadet is turned over to an orderly who directs him to the office of the Treasurer. No general officer in full uniform, one month later, could create in the candidate’s mind the same impression of the finished military product as does this first sight of a simple soldat at the Treasurer’s. The new cadet is directed to deposit all the money that he has in his possession. Each new cadet is supposed to deposit one hundred and sixty dollars upon entrance to cover an initial cost of equipment, which amount is credited to the cadet’s account, together with any surplus change that he has at the time of admission. Although the Regulations require this initial deposit of one hundred and sixty dollars, the requirement is not absolutely obligatory, so that if any boy receives an appointment he should not be deterred from accepting on account of the financial stipulation. He should come at all events. The first equipment will be issued, and with economy he can later on wipe out the debt. If a boy’s parents are poor, it would be foolish for them to make a great effort to raise this money. Let the boy come and assume the responsibility of the debt, and let the onus of it rest upon his more youthful shoulders which will very soon broaden to bear it. One by one the men pass the little wicket window of the Treasurer and deposit all their money. Pockets are emptied of all cash and checks, which are credited to the cadet’s account. When eight, ten, or twelve candidates have been admitted, the young officer present forms them into a pseudo squad, or rather group, then calls an orderly of the Regular Army.
“Show these young gentlemen over to the Area of Barracks to the office of the Officer in Charge of New Cadets.”
The orderly comes briskly to attention, his smart salute captivating the assorted collection of “Prides of Congressional Districts.” They promptly follow his leadership, out of the postern gate of Headquarters, across the road to the Area of Barracks, reveling in the clouds of glory that, in their eyes, he trails behind him. They are now quite happy, fully launched upon their military careers.
The feeling of elation at being at last within the sacred halls of the Academy begins to intoxicate the new cadet, when, upon the way over to the barracks, he notices a few stray passersby stop, look at the queer squad, and then smile slowly, almost insinuatingly, as if amused. It is an irritating smile. He sees the orderly smile too. Something has surely gone wrong. His heart goes down, down, down, and he soon feels as if someone had thrown about him a cloak of lead. But on the squad goes. He tries to shake off his heavy feeling, but it is no use. Many days elapse before the heavy mantle is cast aside. He is sure that something dreadful is about to happen. But stay, what is all this disturbance in the Area? Running back and forth between a sally-port and a barracks are a lot of bareheaded individuals, some in military shirt and cit trousers, others in lovely pink striped shirts and gray cadet trousers. They appear very uncomfortable. Several well set-up young cadets are at their heels giving them instructions in stern tones.
“Say, soldier, who are those men?” inquires one bold candidate.
“Those men are your new classmates,” explains the orderly.