A Cadet's Honor: Mark Mallory's Heroism

by Upton Sinclair

And so it happened that the seven, by their action, brought down upon their heads all the hazing that was done after taps. This hazing, too, was by far the least pleasant, for it was attended to only by the more reckless members of the class, members who could not satisfy their taste for torture by making a helpless plebe sing songs, but must needs tumble him out of bed and ride him on a rail at midnight besides.

The fact, however, that all such members of the yearling class had decided to concentrate their torments upon him did not worry Mark in the least. In fact, that was just what Mark had expected and prepared for.

And so there was destined to be fun that night.

"Now go to your tents, make down your bedding just as you were taught at barracks; do not remove your underclothing; hang up your uniforms where each man can get his own in an instant; put your shoes and caps where you can get them in the dark if need be; turn in and blow your candle out, before the drum strikes 'taps,' at ten. After that, not a sound! Get to sleep as soon as you can and be ready to form here at reveille."

So spoke Cadet Corporal Jasper; and then at the added command, "Break ranks, march!" the plebe company scattered, and with many a sigh of relief vanished as individuals in the various tents.

The corporal's last order, "be ready to form here at reveille," is a source of much worriment to the plebe. But the one before it, "get to sleep as soon as you can," is obeyed with the alacrity born of hours of drill and marching. Long before tattoo, which is the signal for "lights out," the majority of the members of the class were already dreaming. Perhaps they were not resting very easily, for most of them had a vague idea that there might be trouble that night; but they knew that lying awake would not stop it, and they were all too sleepy anyway.

The last closing ceremony of a West Point day in camp is the watchful "tac's" inspection. One of these officers goes the rounds with a dark lantern, flashing it into every tent and making sure that the four occupants are really in bed. (The "bed" consists of a board floor, and blankets.) Having attended to this duty, the tac likewise retires and Camp McPherson sinks into the slumbers of the night.

After that until five the next morning there is no one awake but the tireless sentries. A word about these. The camp is a military one and is never without guard from the moment the tents are stretched until the 29th of August, when the snowy canvas comes to the ground once more. The "guard tent" is at the western end of the camp, and is under the charge of the "corporal of the guard," a cadet. The sentries are cadets, too, and there are five of them, numbered—sentry No. 1 and so on. The ceremony each morning at which these sentries go on duty is called "guard-mounting." And during the next twenty-four hours these sentries are on duty two hours in every six—two hours on and then four off, making eight in the twenty-four.

These sentries being cadets themselves—and yearlings at present—hazing is not so difficult as it might seem. A sentry can easily arrange to have parties cross his beat without his seeing them; it is only when the sentry is not in the plot that the thing is dangerous.

The "tac"—Lieutenant Allen was his name—had made his rounds for the night, finding plebes and yearlings, too, all sleeping soundly, or apparently so. And after that there was nothing moving but the tramping sentinels, and the shadows of the trees in the moonlight as they fell on the shining tents—that is, there was nothing moving that was visible. The yearlings, plenty of them, were wide awake in their tents and preparing for their onslaught upon the sleeping plebes.