The longer a cadet remains at West Point, the clearer and finer becomes his point of view. During the first few months of his career, a glimpse of which we had in the previous chapter, he is so busy learning the mechanism of the drills, the care of his person and equipment, and familiarizing himself with all of the strange names and unusual customs of military life that his point of view is more or less clouded.

Little by little, during the summer encampment, as soon as the newness of his surroundings begins to wear away, he finds himself undergoing a change of heart; he experiences a new feeling and appreciation of his work and a sort of exhilaration of discovering the progress that he is making in his daily tasks. For example, instead of going out to parade in a dazed and mechanical manner, he marches forth filled with pride that he is really a member of so Élite a Corps. He strives to do his bit with all his might. He lends a close attention to all commands so that no act of his will mar the appearance of his company, and does his utmost to assume the correct position of a soldier that is incessantly dinned into his ears by the ever alert file closers. He feels that he is changing, but does not understand just how. In reality his point of view is swinging around, it is clearing up, and the new cadet is beginning to be animated with the spirit of West Point.

The scales seem to drop from his eyes. He is no longer concerned so completely with his troubles and difficulties, with his inability to get into his white trousers without mussing them badly, with his capacity for doing “wooden” things, or with all of the thousand and one little heartburns for things done and left undone.

On the contrary, the incidents of his surroundings that are unrelated to himself begin to interest him. With quiet amusement he watches the antics of the yearlings, envying them their careless nonchalant air. His heart goes out in sympathy to some fellow plebe who has just incurred the displeasure of an upper-classman. He secretly admires the military bearing of the cadet officers, the fit of their blouses, their erect and graceful carriage. To him they represent the ideal in the flesh toward which he is striving. There is a certain something about the manner in which they perform their duties that inspires the plebe to extra efforts. In the hope of receiving a word of praise from the cadet captain at inspection before parade, an extra rub is given to the rifle or breastplate, and more care is taken in climbing into those stiff white trousers. He listens with the greatest interest to the chatter about the approaching Academic term and accepts with gratitude the counsels sometimes offered him by the cadet captain.

As the camp draws to a close, not only the captain but all of the upper-classmen give the plebe gratuitous advice about the coming Academic year. At every formation while awaiting the sounding of the assembly, little groups gather in the company streets and interrogate the plebes as to their previous mental training. A note of restlessness begins to pervade the camp as the month of September draws nigh. Once again the books must be taken down from the shelves and hours of study devoted to the solution of problems.

The plebe views the close of the camp with a sigh of relief mingled with not a little anxiety. It is true that he is glad to get into barracks where he will have a little more personal liberty, and be free from the incessant drilling, drilling. On the other hand, the opening of the Academic year fills him with some misgivings about his ability to master the studies and fulfill his ambition to become an officer.

Before he is really aware of the flight of the days, September the first has arrived. He leaves the life of camp where almost the entire day has been devoted to military exercises of one sort or another and plunges into the Academic work. A new sort of life begins and the routine of the day is readjusted. With determination he sets out to climb the stony path of knowledge that alone will lead him to his commission. The branch of the service that he will eventually select is as yet unknown to him, but as he proceeds in his career at the Academy he will have a taste of the duties of each arm, and he will later on be able to choose his branch with intelligence.

The beauty about the West Point system of training officers is that it educates them for all branches of the Army, for the line and for the staff. When a man graduates, he is assigned either to the Corps of Engineers, the Ordnance, Artillery, Cavalry, or Infantry according to his choice based on his class standing. The highest men usually select the Corps of Engineers, although it is not unusual for a man who is recommended for the Engineers by the Academic Board to choose some branch of the mobile Army.

The curriculum to which our young cadet must devote nine months of the year is highly scientific and technical. The corner-stone of the course is mathematics, and the great mass of the structure is made up of the exact sciences. Primarily, the curriculum is designed to give the cadet a liberal education and to turn out a man with sharpened mental processes. It does not lay the greatest emphasis upon the training of cadets in the practical duties that pertain to any particular arm or corps. The reasons for this are very sound.

It is the belief of all officers who have given the question of military education any thoughtful study that the first requisite of any army is a corps of officers trained in the essentials of their profession. What really does this mean? It simply means that officers of the Army should be well educated men, not only those who are to go into the technical branches such as the Engineers and the Ordnance, but the line officers as well. The authorities at West Point have therefore developed a broad scientific course, fully convinced that the mental discipline, powers of investigation, and accurate reasoning necessary in solving problems in the exact sciences are the same mental qualities that are needed whether in planning a great campaign, building a Panama Canal, or fighting the savage Moro in the distant Philippines.

The advisability of giving all cadets, those destined for the line as well as for the staff, the same education has been questioned more than once. As long ago as 1843, a Board of Officers, of which General Scott was president, made certain criticisms of the course of instruction. It is interesting to quote the answer made by the Academic Board, for the ideas set forth therein express in general the opinions held today:

The Academic Board believes that one of the most important objects of the Academy is to subject each cadet, previous to his promotion to a higher grade in the Army, to a thorough course of mental as well as military discipline to teach him to reason readily and accurately to apply right principles to cases of daily occurrence in the life of a soldier. They are satisfied that a strict course of mathematical and philosophical study, with applications to the various branches of military science, is by far the best calculated to bring about this end, and that the present scientific course at the Academy, the result of the experience of many years, is in its main feature such a course.

They are aware that many of the cadets, as is the case with most of those who pursue a scientific course at other institutions, will have little occasion to make practical applications of the many mathematical problems that they meet, and that they may have passed over certain problems without thoroughly understanding their meaning in all their points. Still, if the course has been thoroughly taught, the reasoning faculties will have been strongly exercised and disciplined and a system of habit and thought acquired which is invaluable in the pursuit of any profession, and as desirable for the infantry or dragoon officer as for any other officer in the service. The officer whose mind has thus been disciplined and who is not forgetful of the duty he owes to the government that has furnished him with opportunities so valuable, will acquire facts and information in whatever station the interests of the service may place him. This discipline and system he will learn at an early age only, and nowhere so well as during his term of service at the Academy.

In recent years, strong influences have been brought to bear on the Academy to change the course so as to make it more practical. The advocates of this change ignore the ends toward which West Point’s course works, heretofore successfully, and desire to see cadets leave West Point with what they call a practical knowledge of the different arms. This means that they wish the graduated cadet to join his regiment well versed in the routine work of the Army, and would have West Point take precious time from mental training to teach a more complete knowledge of the mechanism of the drills. If West Point followed this advice, the graduated cadet would have a difficult road in solving the big problems that will arise in his career. If in the West Point course emphasis were laid upon the practical work rather than upon the intellectual training, then the cadet would simply be storing up knowledge instead of learning how to think. When therefore any situation would arise, the tendency would be to make a requisition upon the storehouse for a solution. If there is no similar situation tucked away on the shelves of memory, that will serve as a guide, he will in many cases be at a loss how to proceed. Not so, however, if his mind has been trained correctly. He will work out his own solution.

Many people believe that the whole science of the military profession is embraced in a book of drill regulations whose practical demonstration on the drill and parade grounds constitutes all that is necessary to make a successful officer. They do not realize that battles are won first with the brain and then with the sword. They rather regard the work of officers much the same as manual labor that anyone can do, and they do not admit that any great amount of mental training for the officers is necessary.

I do not wish to give the impression that there is no practical training at the Academy—far from it. But I am glad to say that it has been allotted its proper place in the course. Once the theory is mastered, the practical is quickly learned afterwards. Any cadet with a trained mind can readily learn the practical duties that may be demanded of him as an officer.

It is an astonishing fact that I have heard West Point methods criticised in the Army because a young graduate upon joining his regiment did not know how to make out a morning report! Why should he? The fact that any boy of average intelligence can learn to make one out in fifteen minutes should be a complete answer to all demands that cadets should be taught these trivialities at the Academy.

The criticism leveled at West Point by officers of the Army is unjust. Older officers expect too much of the graduated cadet. I have noticed that they demand of these young men, immediately upon joining, the same mature conception and efficient execution of certain duties as they themselves are able to display only after years of experience.

Upon graduation from West Point, I dare say that there is no more highminded, well-trained, and efficient body of young men in the world. The graduates join their commands brimming over with youth, intelligence, enthusiasm, and energy and ruled by intense loyalty. They want to do what is right. They want to go forward in their profession. They make every effort to perform well their duties. All that they need are leaders among their superiors who will develop their aspirations. Sometimes they encounter a distinct air of hostility, occasionally a petty attitude on the part of some older officers whose one ambition is to “put them in their place,” and, too frequently, simply indifference. The result is that the young officers quickly become a prey to the red tape, the dull routine, the narrowness of post life, or to the mental inertia of prolonged duty upon the border where almost every stimulating influence is absent. If only there were enough good leaders to take this wonderful material that the Academy sends forth annually and develop it, there is no telling to what heights these young officers would rise.

But to return to our plebe who makes his dÉbut in Academic work September the first. The evening before has been spent in earnest preparation for the lesson in mathematics, and he sets forth on this early autumn day to grapple with the hardest study of his course.

First call for recitation is sounded at seven minutes before eight o’clock. The trumpeter, an enlisted man of the Army, blows “school call” first in the area of barracks, then outside of the north sally-port, on the Plain side of the buildings. The call is repeated several times, and as its notes float out on the air, the barracks begin to disgorge the cadets, sometimes singly, but more often in groups of twos and threes. The more prompt ones pile out on the cement walk, standing near their places in the ranks to await the assembly. The majority are laughing and talking or discussing the lesson, while others, thirsting for knowledge until the last, keep their noses in their books. Their comrades sometimes tease them, calling them “tenth-boners” in good-natured derision, or steal up behind them and shut their books for them saying, “Oh, come off spec-ing tenths,” which means to desist from studying at the last moments to better the mark.

At one minute before assembly the cadet officer of the day, a straight young man in a red sash and red crossbelt (bound up, as Patsy O’Hara of 1904 wittily remarked, in his official red tape), takes his post in the center of the area and commands: “Form your sections!”

Instantly books are slammed, all noises, talking, laughing, skylarking, cease, and the scattered gray figures seem to magically form themselves into compact little squads under the direction of their section marchers who stand out in front counting them. The door of the Guardhouse opens and the O. C. (officer in charge) appears upon the “poop deck,” stern, implacable, almost sphinx-like, and surveys coldly the formation. For the brief space of a few seconds all is quiet except for the occasional shuffling of a section that has misjudged its proper space. Then the trumpeter sounds the assembly. A few belated men are tearing to their places in ranks, running a race with the fading notes of the trumpet and landing bang! into the rear rank just in time to keep from being reported absent. The kind-hearted trumpeter often takes a deeper breath (especially in winter when he sees the belated ones recklessly dashing across the icy walks), and holds on to those last notes of assembly in a way that was never intended by the composer. God bless him!

Meanwhile the instructors are in the section rooms awaiting the arrival of their classes. Here and there in the windows of the rooms facing the area is an instructor gazing upon this class formation that is the same today as it was years ago, and that awakens in him a flood of memories of his own cadet days when he too set out to recite to an instructor who never seemed quite human. As he looks at the cadets forming, he realizes how distinctly the institution creates its types, and he is able to pick out certain individuals and say to himself:

“There goes so and so of my class!”

The great charm of West Point is that so many things never change. Some of the cadets, sons of graduates, are doing exactly as their fathers did at their age, and again a few cadets are reacting the youth of their grandfathers.

While the instructor is watching the cadets in the area, the section marcher reports to the officer of the day all absentees in his section which he then marches off to the Academic Building. On the sections come in military formation straight to the classroom door. The halls of the building resound to the tramping of many feet as the cadets march along with muffled tread, thanks to O’Sullivan rubber heels that are fitted to every pair of shoes. When opposite the classroom door the section marcher commands:

“Section halt! Fall out!”

The cadets hang up their caps in the hall, file into the room, and stand rigidly at attention behind their desks. The section marcher enters, closes the door, takes his position in the center of the room facing the instructor, salutes, and reports:

“Sir, all are present,” or “Cadet Ducrot is absent.”

Mr. Ducrot now makes his acquaintance with Mathematics, the study that determines more than any other his standing at West Point. From the day that he commences his studies he feels that he must devote the greater amount of time to this subject, and with reason. A perusal of the tables of instruction shows that the greater proportion of time and weight is allotted to the mathematical studies. The total amount of time provided for in the course of instruction, including riding and gymnasium, is 192,900 minutes. If gymnasium and riding are deducted (11,205 and 10,860 minutes, respectively) there are left 170,835 minutes devoted to Academic work. Of this amount the pure mathematical subjects are allotted 76,555 minutes, and the non-mathematical subjects, 94,280 minutes.

These figures represent the time that is actually spent in the recitation work. To give an accurate idea of the draught of these subjects upon the cadet’s time, however, we should estimate the amount of time required for preparation plus the time spent in the section room. The lessons are so assigned that these preparations take the average cadet twice the time allotted to the recitation. Thus, in subjects having an hour and twenty-five minute recitations, the average cadet is expected to spend two hours and fifty minutes in preparation; and in subjects having one hour periods, two hours of preparation. Practical Surveying and Drawing are subjects for which no preparation is required.

Adding the preparation time to the recitation time we find the total relative amounts of time as follows:

The time devoted to mathematical subjects is divided among only five departments, whereas the time divided among non-mathematical subjects is divided among nine departments. Again, each subject is weighted and the five mathematical subjects have almost as many units as the nine non-mathematical subjects. Out of the 2325 units required for graduation (leaving out of account the 200 allotted to conduct) the five mathematical departments have 1065 and the nine other departments have 1260. It is no wonder that Mr. Ducrot wishes to make an auspicious beginning in a study that is so important to his future career. The conduct of the recitation that he attends for the first time is about the same in every department. In Mathematics, which is an exact science, the system is perhaps a little more rigid than in some of the non-mathematical departments.

As soon as the cadets have taken their seats the instructor asks:

“Are there any questions on the lesson?”

The cadets are then at liberty to ask for an explanation of any part of the lesson that they have not been able to comprehend. The officer uses his judgment as to the amount of time to be thus consumed. Sometimes he will take up half the recitation period to clear up the obscurities of the lesson, but if he has one of the lower sections he sometimes has to be on his guard, for the cadets on the days of hard lessons astutely ask many questions in order to consume the recitation period. I know one officer who always outwitted these youthful diplomats when they attempted to stave off the recitation. He would begin speaking so rapidly that no one could interrupt:

“Any questions-pages-one-two-three-four-too-late-close-your-books. Mr. Ducrot-take-the-first-front-board.”

Each cadet is sent to the blackboard with an enunciation, that is, some phase of the lesson to discuss, or perhaps the instructor may question a few men. The cadet writes his name on the board in the upper right-hand corner and proceeds to place upon the slate enough data to assist him in his recitation. In Mathematics, he solves his problem; in other subjects the topic that he will develop orally.

As soon as the cadet is ready to recite he takes a pointer in his hand and faces the instructor and stands at attention until called upon. In order to test thoroughly the cadet’s reasoning powers the instructor will sometimes lead him on along a false path, practically making the recitation himself, saying:

“Is not that so?” and again, “Is that not so?”

To which the lad, if not thoroughly sure of himself, will be betrayed into replying:

“Yes, sir!” “Yes, sir!”

Finally when the deduction has been rendered ridiculous, the officer will sharply say:

“That is perfectly absurd.” The cadet receives a lesson that he does not forget. Once or twice as a cadet I was in this position and I know the feeling.

After each cadet is heard, he is given other problems with which to wrestle while the other cadets are reciting. When a principle of particular importance is to be demonstrated, all of the cadets are required to face about and give their close attention in order that they may all benefit from the instruction.

During a recitation a visit may be expected at any time from the Professor or Head of the Department. Upon his entrance, the cadets all rise and stand at attention until they are told to proceed with their work.

The Professor either listens to the cadets recite or conducts the recitation himself. The recitation continues until the bugler blows the “Recall” in the area. What a welcome sound is this to those few who have spent the hour at the board, without reciting, vainly staring at the blank slate in the hope of drawing some inspiration from its cold surface! They have been “bugling,” waiting for the bugle to sound “Recall.” They quickly drop chalk, eraser, pointer, and joyfully file out of the room exchanging with their co-conspirators sympathetic smiles, and surreptitiously “rubbing their bellies,” as a sign of excessive joy.

The instructor at West Point has one great advantage over his fellow instructors in the colleges. His time is not occupied with trifling on the part of the students. The cadets are so thoroughly disciplined by the Tactical Department that their deportment in class is irreproachable. It is very rare that the recitation is interrupted to make corrections other than academic. The cadets are held to a high standard of discipline all the time. In class they are not permitted to communicate with one another, but they talk freely with the instructor about points in the lesson.

So much for the actual recitation, the conduct of which seems so smooth and simple. In the background, however, there is an admirable organization that strives for a maximum of efficiency in the instruction.

Every department consists of the Professor or Head of the Department, an assistant professor, and the requisite number of instructors which varies with the size of the classes. In the Departments of Mathematics and Modern Languages, each of which instructs two classes, the Professor is aided by an associate professor, besides the assistants.

The Professor is in complete control of his entire department. He prepares the courses of instruction, recommends the adoption of new text-books, or abolition of those in use, apportions the work among his instructors, conducts and supervises the conferences of his instructors, prepares and supervises the examination of the classes pursuing his course, is responsible for all property belonging to his department, and is the channel through which must pass all reports and official communications relating to departmental affairs.

In nearly all of the departments the Professor is able to standardize the instruction of the cadets by means of conferences with his instructors. These meetings are informal, partaking more of the nature of a conversazione in which the Professor outlines his wishes to his officers, emphasizing the points of the lesson that he wishes brought out. The conferences also offer to the instructors the opportunity to make suggestions to the Head of the Department in regard to the section-room work, pointing out the success or failure of certain features of the previous lesson.

The conferences are comparatively recent in the scheme of instruction at the Academy, but they are of great value to the officers. The result is that the instructor enters the section room with a feeling of confidence and a knowledge that his methods are approved in advance by his immediate chief. Moreover, the Professor is able to go from one section room to another and find that the teaching of the lesson is progressing uniformly. I have always considered the conference feature the greatest aid in my work as an instructor, for besides the profit derived from the Professor’s talk, there is always a constant interchange of ideas, of impressions, or perhaps a heated argument between the officers, all of which stimulate the mind and the imagination, and sharpen the wits. Furthermore, these meetings tend to produce harmony by drawing the officers together in a common cause. The introduction of conferences has markedly changed the former attitude of the instructor toward his work, so that instead of merely hearing the lesson and marking the cadet, as prevailed too frequently in years gone by, the officer is inspired to impart a maximum of knowledge and help to his student. I feel sure that the average of the teaching is rising year by year, due in large measure to the intelligent conduct of conferences by the various professors with their officer assistants.

In addition to their work in the preparation and teaching of the daily lessons, instructors are required to keep the record of the cadets’ marks. For this purpose, pasteboard cards properly ruled for the days of the week, averages, and proportional parts are provided, one for each cadet. After the conclusion of the day’s recitation the mark is entered by the instructor on the cadet’s card, and at the end of the week, all of the marks are transferred to a weekly report that each instructor submits for the cadets under his charge. These reports, or “tenth sheets” as the cadets call them, are publicly posted in glass frames in the sally-port, where they remain for one week, during which time the cadets are at liberty to inspect them. In this manner, a cadet can always tell exactly what progress he is making, whether deficient or proficient. There is never any attempt at secrecy, but, on the contrary, every facility is afforded the cadet to ascertain his standing. The pasteboard cards form the permanent record and are carefully filed in the department.

The weekly reports are usually posted every Saturday while the battalions are at inspection. Immediately upon breaking ranks, what a scramble ensues to get a peep at the result of the week’s work! Struggling cadets elbow and crowd one another to get close to the frames, each heart beating in anticipation of the figures that mean for some success and for others failure. The difference of perhaps one tenth in the total will sometimes fill the lad with dejection for the rest of the afternoon.

No one is deprived of the privilege of consulting his marks. Even those cadets serving punishment, such as confinement to rooms, can obtain permission to inspect the reports. More often, however, they send some plebe to copy the marks for them. The publicity of the marking has an excellent effect upon the cadet, for he knows what each man in his section accomplished during the week and sees that no partiality is shown nor injustice done by the instructor.

The scale of marking that is used at West Point was introduced when Major Sylvanus Thayer was Superintendent in 1837. Upon this scale a perfect recitation receives a mark of 3.0; good is represented by 2.5; indifferent by 2.0; bad, 1.5; imperfect, 1.0; and complete failure 0.0. The instructor may mark as close as a tenth giving a 2.8 or a 2.1 or a 1.4 as the recitation merits.

Since the marks determine a cadet’s graduation standing and affect his whole career as an officer, they naturally are given by him no little consideration. Sometimes I think that the cadets give entirely too much thought to attaining a good grade rather than to the thorough mastering of the subject; that is, they have a tendency to develop the memory at the expense of the thinking functions. As I have explained before West Point methods are strictly opposed to such a system, and the departments discourage verbatim recitations. The marking offers many difficulties at an institution such as West Point because a difference of a few hundredths between two cadets’ standing will alter their choice of a branch or Corps and affect their relative promotion by years. At colleges and universities this condition does not exist, for a man’s standing has little connection with his future career.

The cadet is not allowed to select his own course, or follow his own inclinations in regard to the curriculum. The mental diet is prescribed and no deviation therefrom is permitted. The three broad fundamentals governing the Academic course are: first, that every cadet shall take every subject; second, that before advancement every cadet shall be proficient in every subject; and third, that every cadet must recite every day.

As regards the above principles there is, of course a little qualification in each, sufficient to admit of some flexibility in application. While no cadet is permitted to elect whether or no he will take a subject, but is required to take all of them, still, some of the more advanced cadets go further in the subjects. In nearly every department the higher men have advanced or special courses.

As for the second principle, a cadet who is deficient in any one subject is usually dismissed. Occasionally, however, where a man stands especially well in all of his studies but fails in one, he may be conditioned by the Academic Board, or in some cases turned back to join the next class. Among the cadets, he becomes known as a “turnback,” a name that usually sticks to him, but conveys no reproach or stigma.

Again, the cadet must recite every day. Owing to the small section of ten or twelve cadets the instructor is ordinarily able to hear every man, so that the studies must be prepared. There is no such thing at West Point as a “cut.” Sometimes, due to the lack of time, the instructor may not hear a few of the cadets, but this is rare. In such a case the cadet does not get a mark but is given what is colloquially known as “stay-back,” that is, a blank. The certainty that he must recite every day and that no failure can be hidden obliges each cadet to prepare his lesson with great thoroughness. The effect of this system on moral character is immediate. It inculcates attention to duty, habits of study and thought, and pride in achievement.

At West Point good intellectual performance is a duty just as much as guard, parade, or inspection, so that an unsatisfactory recitation due to the cadet’s negligence not only begets a bad mark, but not infrequently a punishment. Moreover, since the cadets realize that their final standing at graduation permits them to choose their branch of the service, they are keen to do their very best to beat the other fellows. This spirit of competition is fostered by transfers of cadets from one section to another either up or down, according to their weekly marks.

Cadets receive individual instruction in every subject. No man can therefore hide his lack of preparation because he is always called upon to develop some phase of the lesson. At the beginning of the term, the Fourth Classmen or plebes are arranged alphabetically into sections in which they remain for about six weeks. Then there is a general transfer or rearrangement of sections according to the marks made during this period. The top man in each section is the section marcher. Thereafter cadets rise and fall in the sections, either weekly or monthly as the Professor wishes. The transfers from one section to another are a great stimulant to the cadet. He gets the reward for his labor. Sometimes, however, in spite of determined efforts, some cadets lose sections, due perhaps to a lack of preparation prior to entrance; others go down through laziness or negligence.

The cadets that land in the last section are known as “The Goats” (in olden days, “The Immortals”), usually a carefree lot who never worry until the examinations roll around. They are a great contrast to the first section men who “bone tenths” with Prussian thrift. But whether “Goats” or first section men each one receives individual instruction.

Nor are the cadets who are low in their studies deprived of extra instruction. When Major-General Thomas H. Barry was Superintendent, he introduced a system permitting cadets to receive, during their recreation hours, extra instruction upon any back lesson. The cadets can therefore overcome the obstacles that prevent them from going forward in any particular study. Due to this system, many a cadet has been saved who otherwise would have been “found,” simply because he was slow and had not had time to digest his lesson.

It is in the lower sections chiefly that humorous incidents occur to lighten the tension of the atmosphere. As an instructor in French, I had many a chuckle over the struggles of some of the Goats to master the tongue of la douce France. On one occasion a cadet was attempting to translate a passage in the reader. His efforts were futile. Few of the words meant anything to him. All at once he came to the proper name “LÉopold, Duc d’Autriche.” With a triumphant gleam at me who had been humiliating him with embarrassing questions, he proudly translated the phrase: “The leopard, the duck, and the ostrich.”

On another occasion there was in the section a foreign cadet from Venezuela whose acquaintance with English was chiefly limited to swear words. While translating a passage in French in the presence of the Professor, he came across the sentence: Mon Dieu, j’ai laissÉ tomber le vase. Immediately he began:

“My God——”

“Oh no, Mr. Honduras,” gently interposed the Professor.

“Oh Hell,” he began once more.

“Dear no, Mr. Honduras, not so strong!” exclaimed the thoroughly shocked Professor. But Honduras understanding (maliciously I thought) that a stronger translation was wanted, ventured once more:

“——! ——! ——!”

Had Honduras been a little American boy, I am sure that the Professor would have made him wash out his mouth with soap.

The success of the West Point system is largely due to several unique reasons. In the first place the authorities control the time of the cadets so completely that it can be utilized to the greatest advantage. Again, West Point’s remoteness from any large city and the strict regulations that govern the privileges of the cadet remove the many temptations that consume the college man’s time. To the same extent, the mind of the cadet is not diverted. Every effort is made to get the maximum mental results from the cadet’s labor. He has regular hours of study, plenty of exercise, a judicious amount of recreation, and good wholesome food. In addition, the cadet is in a studious atmosphere. No opportunity is lost to impress upon him correct habits of study.

I dare say that at no other institution of learning is there such serious preparation of the lessons. The cadet’s academic day contains but half an hour of leisure from 6:00 A.M. to 10:00 A.M. except during the extreme cold weather when drills are suspended the cadets have two hours in the afternoon. All during the day therefore when not at recitations, riding, or gymnasium, the cadets are studying, and the long study period is from 7:00 to 9:30 P.M. Although prohibited by Regulations, many men study after taps, especially those low in the class. To conceal the light they hang a leg of their trousers over the electric light, lowering the cord until it almost touches the table. Just a little circle of light shines upon the book, and not enough to be detected from without.

West Point is not indifferent to the performance of its students. It cannot afford to be less exacting, but it has a powerful leverage over other institutions for it dangles before the cadet’s view the prize of a commission in the Regular Army, a career in an honorable profession.

The course of instruction at the Military Academy develops in the cadet certain traits of character that are invaluable to him in a profession where, as an officer, he is constantly being called upon to meet all sorts of contingencies, to exercise his judgment, and to make decisions. His studies and duties broaden his mind, make him self-reliant, and teach him self-control. It is astounding to see the results obtained by the system. As a proof of the intellectual product of the Academy, I shall quote the following table, giving the occupations of the graduates who have gone into civil life where they have measured their strength with the graduates of other institutions of learning:

The above list should be convincing that if methods of training which are primarily intended to develop officers can produce such signal and distinguished successes in every walk of civil life, no fault can be found with their soundness.

The Academic year is divided into two terms that end in the fall and the spring. A month prior to the conclusion of each term, each Department conducts a general review of the subjects studied that semester. Cadets who make a proficient average upon this review, which is generally written, are exempt from the examinations. These reviews are very thorough and searching. The questions are framed to test the cadet’s real knowledge of the subject. In order to avoid all personal element entering into the marks, the papers are graded by all of the instructors, each marking one question. In this manner the marks are uniform and fair as possible, and no one instructor has any great influence in assigning to a man his class standing.

Following the reviews come the examinations for those who failed upon the review. These tests are also quite rigid, and in order to be declared proficient a man must make two thirds of the mark, .66 per cent. The examination papers are likewise marked by all of the instructors and by the Professor. In the event that a cadet fails he is reported to the Academic Board for their action. In general, if deficient in any one subject, the cadet is dismissed.

I feel how weak are any words that I might use to attempt to describe the despair into which a discharged cadet is plunged. For days he lives in an excruciating suspense awaiting the result of the examinations. The thought of wasted opportunity, the regret for lack of early preparation perhaps, and worse than all, the sense of failure torment him. It is bitter to renounce the camaraderie and friendship of his fellows and to see himself involuntarily separated from surroundings that he has come to love. At last the dread news comes. The Adjutant rises from his seat in the Mess Hall and calls the Battalion to attention. Immediately a deathlike stillness pervades the cadet body. The gravity and dignity of the Adjutant’s demeanor unconsciously inform the Corps that distressing news is about to be communicated. Slowly and distinctly the names are read out, one by one, and as they fall upon the straining ears of the cadets, they sound like so many death sentences for the unfortunate lads who are “found.” A gloom of sorrow settles over the Corps and the companies file out of the hall in sympathetic silence. But the reality must be faced. Suitcases and trunks are packed, accounts are quickly settled, affectionate and emotional good-byes are said, and sadly the discharged cadets drop out of the ranks of the Corps. The long gray line closes up and once again marches forward to do battle with the Academic obstacles that block the road to graduation.