Nothing pleases a cadet quite so much as to see a “Tac” do something wooden. They say that he is gross, which has nothing whatsoever to do with being fat, but simply means that his mind is somewhat dense. Immediately the blunder spreads like wild-fire from lip to lip, growing as it goes and repeated with a joy that approaches delirium. There was at one time an officer on duty whose idiosyncrasies were told and retold. He furnished many a good story for the delight of the Corps, and his departure threatened the existence of The Howitzer, the cadets’ annual publication, and of the Hundredth Night, the annual play in which the officers may be satirized. His mind seemed to work by rule and regulation. One night when he was making his inspection of barracks, he came to a room where only one cadet was studying at the center table. He entered, looked around, and then inquired:
“Cadet, where is your roommate?”
“In bed, sir!” was the reply.
“Is he asleep?” asked the officer.
“I don’t know, sir,” answered the cadet.
“Well, find out,” ordered the “Tac.”
The man then turned to his roommate who was plainly visible in bed, and asked:
“Jim, are you asleep?”
“Yes” sounded off a voice from the depths of the comforters.
“He says he’s asleep, sir.”