The Colored Cadet at West Point - Autobiography of Lieut. Henry Ossian Flipper. Henry Ossian Flipper
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he was instantly silenced with—
"Well, sir, don't reply to me in ranks."
The inspection would be continued. Some one, unable to restrain himself—the whole affair was so ridiculous— would laugh right out in ranks. He was a doomed man.
"What do you mean, sir, by laughing in ranks, sir?"
Having been once directed not to reply in ranks, the poor "plebe" would stand mute.
"Well, sir, don't you intend to answer me?"
"Yes, sir."
"Well, sir, step it out. What were you grinning at?"
"Nothing, sir."
"Nothing! Well, sir, you're a pretty thing to be grinning at nothing. Get in ranks."
The inspection would, after many such interruptions, be continued. Ranks would at length be closed and the command, "In place, rest!" given. The battalion would march in from parade at double time and form in the area to our rear. The delinquencies of the day previous would then be published by the cadet adjutant.
What most strikes a "plebe" is this same publication. He hasn't the remotest idea of what it is. Not a word uttered by the adjutant is understood by him. He stands and wonders what it is. A perfect jargon of words, unintelligible and meaningless to him! I remember distinctly how I used to wonder, and how I was laughed at when I asked for information concerning it. We "plebes" used to speak of it often, and wonder if it was not French. When we were better acquainted with the rules and customs of the Academy we learned what it was. It was something of this nature, read from the "Delinquency Book:"
DELINQUENCIES, TUESDAY, OCT. 12.
ADAMS.—Late at reveille roll-call.
BEJAY.—Sentinel not coming to "Arms, Port," when addressed by the officer of the day.
SAME.—Not conversant with orders at same.
BARNES.—Same at same.
SAME.—Sentinel, neglect of duty, not requiring cadet leaving his post to report his departure and destination.
SAME.—Hanging head, 4 P.M.
BULOW.—Dust on mantel at inspection, 9.30 A.M.
SAME.—Executing manual of arms with pointer in section-room, 9 A.M.
SAME.—Using profane expression, 1 P.M.
CULLEN.—Out of bed at taps.
DOUNS.—Light in quarters, 11 p.m.
SAME.—Not prepared on 47 Velasquez.5
On the 26th of May, another colored candidate reported. It is said he made the best show at the preliminary examination. Unfortunately, however, he was "found" at the following semi-annual examination. He was brought up to my quarters by a corporal, and I was ordered to give him all instruction which had previously been given me. This I did, and his first days at West Point were much more pleasant than mine had been.
The candidates had now all reported, and Monday afternoon, May 28th, we were each given by the Adjutant in person a slip of paper upon which was written the number of each man's name in an alphabetically arranged roll. This we had special directions to preserve. The next day we were marched up to the Drawing Academy, and examined in grammar, history, and geography; the following day in orthography and reading. On the same day, also, we were required to write out a list of all the textbooks we had used in our previous school- days. The day following we were divided into sections and marched to the library, where the Academic Board was in readiness to examine us in mathematics. It took quite a while to examine our class of more than one hundred members thus orally. I am not positive about the dates of the examination. I know it occurred in the immediate vicinity of those named.
Not many days after this the result of the examination was made known to us. The familiar cry, "Candidates, turn out promptly," made at about noon, informed us that something unusual was about to occur. It was a fearful moment, and yet I was sure I had "passed." The only questions I failed on were in geography. I stood motionless while the order was being read until I heard my name among the accepted ones. I felt as if a great burden had been removed from my mind. It was a beginning, and if not a good one, certainly not a bad one. What has been the ending? Let the sequel show.
Now that the examination was over and the deficient ones gone, we were turned out for drill every morning at half—past five o'clock and at four in the afternoon. We were divided into squads of one each, and drilled twice a day in the "settings up" until about June 20th. After a few drills, however, the squads were consolidated into others of four, six, and eight each. The surplus drill-masters were "turned in." Their hopes were withered, for it was almost a certainty that those who were "turned in" would not be "made." They expected to be "made" on their proficiency in drilling, and when it was shown by being "turned in" that others had been thought better drill-masters, they were not a little disappointed. How they "boned" tactics! What proficiency they manifested! How they yelled out their commands! What eagerness they showed to correct errors, etc. And yet some could not overcome their propensity for hazing, and these were of course turned in. Not always thus, however. Those who were not "turned in" were not always "made" corporals. Often those who were so treated "got the chevrons" after all.
"Plebe drill," or, more familiarly, "squad drill," has always been a source of great amusement to citizens, but what a horror to plebes. Those torturous twistings and twirlings, stretching every nerve, straining every sinew, almost twisting the joints out of place and making life one long agonizing effort. Was there ever a "plebe," or recruit, who did not hate, did not shudder at the mere mention of squad drill? I did. Others did. I remember distinctly my first experience of it. I formed an opinion, a morbid dislike of it then, and have not changed it. The benefit, however, of "squad drill" can not be overestimated. It makes the most crooked, distorted creature an erect, noble, and manly being, provided, of course, this distortion be a result of habit and not a natural deformity, the result of laziness in one's walking, such as hanging the head, dropping the shoulders, not straightening the legs, and crossing them when walking.
Squad drill is one of the painful necessities of military discipline, and no one regrets his experience of it, however displeasing it may have been at the time. It is squad drill and hazing that so successfully mould the coarser characters who come to West Point into officers and gentlemen. They teach him how to govern and be governed. They are more effectual in polishing his asperities of disposition and forming his character than any amount of regulations could be. They tame him, so to speak.
Squad drill was at once a punishment, a mode of hazing, and a drill. For the least show of grossness one was sure to be punished with "settings up, second time!" "settings up, fourth time! "Continue the motion, settings up second (or fourth) time!" We would be kept at these motions until we could scarcely move. Of course all this was contrary to orders. The drill-master would be careful not to be "hived." If he saw an officer even looking at him, he would add the command "three," which caused a discontinuance of the motion. He would change, however, to one of the other exercises immediately, and thus keep the plebes continually in motion. When he thought the punishment sufficient he would discontinue it by the command, "three," and give "place, rest." When the "place, rest" had been just about sufficient to allow the plebe to get cool and in a measure rested, the drill would be resumed by the command "'tion, squad" (abbreviated from "attention" and pronounced "shun"). If the plebe was slow, "place, rest" was again given, and
"When I give the command ''tion, squad,' I want to see you spring up with life."
"'Tion, squad!"
Plebe is slow again.
"Well, mister, wake up. This is no trifling matter.
Understand?"
"Yes, sir."
"Well, sir, don't reply to me in ranks."
And many times and terms even more severe