L. P.: “Yes, how many lights are there in the ceiling?”
Cadet: “340.”
(Second longer pause—atmosphere at breaking point.)
Usually a chap relieves the situation by suggesting:
“Let’s go out on the balcony.”
There one can at least console himself with the beauty of the scene, for unless devoid of all feeling, no person can behold the glory of the Hudson from the balcony of Cullum Hall, by night, or better, by moonlight without being greatly stirred.
Two hundred feet immediately below the balcony lies the river, apparently calm and unruffled, but anyone who knows it well visualizes the deep current beneath that flows resistlessly toward the sea. On moonlight nights its surface is agleam from the rays of the full moon standing almost stock-still over the hills that form the river’s opposite banks. Here and there as far down as Anthony’s Nose the obscurity is dotted with lights mostly yellow, but with an occasional red or green that tells of the approach of a boat. Peace and beauty reign over this scene. It is as if one were gazing upon the enchanted garden of a land of fairies. Occasionally the charm and wonder of the river are added to by the passage of a night boat that goes churning by, brilliantly lighted, with its name Berkshire or Trojan outlined in electric lights, and with its searchlight flashing broad beams on the banks, first on this spot, then on the other. The operator plays the beam upon the Riding Hall, then slowly passes it to the Administration building, bathing the tower in light, then to the Officers’ Mess, or maybe some caprice will seize him and up dances the beam to the chapel on the hill, descending as captiously to Cullum Hall. For a few moments the entire balcony is illuminated by the cold light of the searchlight that reveals other cadets and their girls, some seated on the broad granite railing, and others strolling up and down. The beam moves slightly upward, and the beauty of Cullum’s classic lines is outlined against the blackness of the night. Then a jerky movement of the operator’s arm and darkness once more enshrouds the building. The steamer passes on, darting its beam back and forth like a spoiled child, until it rounds Gee’s Point where it is lost to view.
The strains of the music draw all of the couples back to the ball room. A more beautiful hall for a dance could hardly be imagined. Conceived by the artistic brain of Stanford White, it forms a most exquisite setting for the gray and white uniforms of the cadets and the rainbow hues of the gowns. The fine old portraits of West Point’s famous generals, the wall bronzes commemorating their deeds, the battle-torn flags, the Mexican cannon, the names of the great victories of the Mexican and Civil wars, are inspiring surroundings for young men and women. The atmosphere of the hall impels the cadets to be chivalrous and courteous. It would be impossible not to have good manners in such a hall. It is no wonder that the cadets enjoy the dances and that the girls find a certain glamour in the entertainments.
On the nights when there are no hops, the concerts are held, and although lacking the brilliancy of the dances, they have a delightful charm of their own. Twice a week the concerts are given in camp, and once a week in front of the quarters of the Superintendent. Upon these occasions the visitors’ seats are crowded, chiefly with the officers, their families, and guests. Here and there on the parade ground are groups of cadets and girls seated on camp stools. The chaperone sits near by wrapped in a blanket to protect her from the heavy dew of the evening. Perhaps, another group will be made more comfortable by some energetic cadets who spread their blankets on the ground for seats and arrange camp stools on their sides for backs. The band is conspicuously placed on a concrete stand, whose brilliant lights cause the iron supports to cast weird shadows over the listening crowd.
On concert nights the camp is much more animated than on hop nights. Many cadets do not go beyond the hedge or frequent the visitors’ seats, but remain in their tents stretched out lazily upon their blankets, where they “laugh and joke, and talk and smoke, and turn to boys again.” Here, clad chiefly in their underclothes, they comfortably enjoy the music, reveling in the freedom from the stiff uniform.