Authors: Susan I. Spieth
29
Friday,
May 7, 1982
2320 Hours
Jan opened the door and looked up and down the hallway before darting
out to the nearest stairwell.
Kristi followed close behind as they stealthily descended the steps to
the main barracks door.
This was
the tricky part because barracks doors always slammed shut.
Jan slowly pushed the handle until the
door opened wide enough for the two plebes to escape.
She placed a rolled up newspaper between
the doors and closed it gently.
Then they sped along Central Barracks, ducking under cadet room windows
before reaching Thayer Road.
General Patton watched holding his binoculars as they skirted the USMA
library.
After passing Mahan Hall,
they made a sharp left down a hundred or so stairs leading to the arched, gated
entrance to Flirtation Walk.
To
Jan, it had always seemed like an enchanted portal, a secret opening to the
forbidden, magical forest.
But that
night, it just looked like a plain gate, an old one at that.
“Does this look like the same Flirty entrance to you?”
Jan whispered.
“Yeah, why?”
“It just seems different.”
“It is dark out, Jan.”
“I know, but it seems…ordinary.”
They ran the trail known as Flirtation Walk.
It was a bit shorter than Jan imagined
and not really all that scenic.
But
that could have been due to the darkness.
They continued running back up the hundred or so steps and all the way
over to Old Sedgwick where they spun the infamous spurs.
Again, it felt anticlimactic to
Jan. “Well, now we’re two for two.”
“Yup!
Anything else we
should do while we’re at it?”
Kristi asked.
“Let’s just explore Washington Hall a bit.
Then, we’ll call it a night.”
Washington Hall housed not only the massive Mess Hall but also dozens
of rooms above and below.
All the
spaces needed to feed four thousand cadets, three times a day, seven days a
week, were located in its depths.
There were huge kitchens, pantries full of bulk food, and storage rooms
for dishes, linens, cutlery and cleaning supplies, to name a few.
Jan and Kristi rode a service
elevator to the lowest level marked B-3.
Relying only on illuminated exit
lights, they wandered down several hallways before finding a small
elevator.
It could only hold
two people at the most.
They
boarded and closed its metal cage.
Without pushing a button, the elevator began descending.
“Oh, shit,”
Kristi
said.
“Did you hit something?”
Jan asked.
“No, it must be possessed.”
“Don’t say that.”
Jan tried
not to think of
The Shining.
The personal elevator came to a sudden halt one floor down.
Jan and Kristi opened the gate and
stepped into what looked like a small office.
A desk, a chair, a lamp, a typewriter,
and a small
trash can
were neatly lined against the
opposite wall.
A loveseat was
propped against the right wall.
Jan and Kristi stepped into the office.
“Weird place for an office,” Jan said.
“Yeah, I wonder who works here.”
They heard a sound coming from a door located on the left wall, opposite
the sofa wall.
“Shhhhh,
”
Jan
whispered as she tiptoed to the door.
She put her ear against it and Kristi
did the same.
They heard a
woman laughing and then a man’s voice, sounding as if he was teasing the
woman.
“Do you want an adventure,
Kissy?”
“Why else are we down here?”
“Okay,” Jan quietly turned the doorknob.
The door opened to a narrow
hallway.
She turned to Kristi,
still standing behind her.
“Do you
think there’s a flashlight anywhere?” Kristi walked back to the desk and opened
a drawer.
It squeaked when she
pulled the handle.
“
Shhh…..it
.”
Then lifting a flashlight out of the
drawer, she said, “But lookie here.”
“Bring it to me.
Quietly.
Please.”
Jan shone the flashlight down the
hallway, lighting up two doors,
one
on each side of
the hall.
“They must be in one of
those rooms,” she whispered.
The roommates tiptoed to the first door on the right.
Jan leaned her ear against it.
No sound.
She looked at Kristi before turning the
knob slowly.
The door opened to
darkness and complete quietness.
The flashlight lit up a stairwell with steps going only up.
“Must be the other one,” Kristi whispered.
They tiptoed to the second door.
The woman’s voice became audible again, but she wasn’t laughing.
She seemed to be crying.
“Just let me…
.please
…I
promise…”
“It doesn’t sound like she’s very happy,” Jan whispered.
“No, she’s crying, I think.”
They stood silently in the dark hallway for another moment, both
wondering what to do.
Jan
didn’t feel right opening the door this time, knowing two people were probably
having a lover’s quarrel.
She
didn’t want to burst in on that.
But Kristi had a different thought,
“Ah hell, what else do we live
for?”
She lunged for the doorknob
and swung open the door.
30
“How are they all?”
“They
are all fickle but one, Sir.”
“And
who is the one?”
“She
who stands atop Battle Monument, for she has been on the same shaft since 1897.”
(The last two lines were dropped from
required plebe knowledge after women were admitted to West Point)
While the upperclassmen went on
spring leave, the plebes stayed behind and attended all their usual
classes.
But roaming the entire
campus at leisure is about as good as going to Myrtle Beach in the West Point
scale of things.
With drill and
athletics canceled for the week, the atmosphere was almost euphoric.
Walking across Central Area to and
from classes, to the gym, anywhere—without having to ping and square
corners—felt strange.
West
Point is probably the only place where doing normal things feels weird.
Spring leave week gave plebes their
first glimpse of what it would be like as upperclassmen.
Jan noticed right away that it felt much
better than being a plebe.
Maybe
I could come to love this place, if I can just hang on long enough.
For the first time since R-Day, she
felt she could maybe, someday, possibly, sort of, become comfortable as a cadet
at West Point.
Hopefully the
next three years will be very different.
Plebe Parent Weekend started on
Friday afternoon when families and friends descended upon West Point.
Kristi’s parents didn’t make the trip
from Germany, so she joined Jan and her parents for lunch on Saturday in the
Mess Hall.
Then the plebe women
showed Mr. and Mrs. Wishart their rooms, the day room, the CQ office, Cullum,
Grant and Eisenhower Halls, and all the major statues and monuments before
ending the afternoon with a short walk in the library.
Saturday night dinner, a formal affair
for cadets and their dates in the Mess Hall, meant that most female plebes made
other arrangements that night.
Jan's parents treated for dinner at Thayer Hotel, a wonderful excuse to
miss the “other thing.”
After
dinner, most classmates attended the plebe ball at Eisenhower Hall while Jan
and the plebe women she knew were free to do something else.
Jan and Kristi walked to Cullum Hall
after bidding the old people goodnight.
With a pitcher of beer, they sat at a table on the large porch overlooking
the Hudson River.
March is still
cold at West Point, but with big, gray, wool coats and beer, it gets downright
warm.
They drank the whole pitcher
and went back for another.
Halfway through the second one, Rick
Davidson and six other male plebes stumbled onto the porch.
A few burps and farts punctuated their
discussion of the places they had “plugged a girl.”
One bragged about doing it in his parents'
bed, another in a teachers’ lounge, and yet another managed to do some plugging
while on an Amtrak train.
An unspoken agreement passed between
Jan and Kristi as they locked eyes.
They would wait it out.
Humiliated, yes; leaving, no.
They resolved to stay put no matter how
cold or obnoxious things got.
Those jerks will have to leave first
.
Suddenly, one of the guys threw
up.
He puked on the porch, then ran
to the railing and continued to vomit over the side.
His friends laughed uproariously, even
cheering on his regurgitation efforts.
This
nullifies our previous agreement.
“Kissy,
we need to bail.”
Jan made sure
Rick saw her disgust.
“Yup, agreed.”
“As much as I’d like to stay and
enjoy the show, we don’t want to be left cleaning up this mess.”
“Right you are.”
“Exit, stage left.”
‘Yes, Ma’am.”
They grabbed the pitcher and their cups
and relocated to a small table inside.
A short time later Rick Davidson
appeared with another full pitcher of beer.
He placed it down on the table along
with three plastic cups.
“I’m
atoning for that circus outside,” he said.
Jan and Kristi stared at each other, not quite trusting his
motives.
“Oh, come on, ladies, it
wasn’t that bad, was it?”
“Well, let’s see, Kissy, did
you
enjoy hearing where girls get
fucked?”
Jan looked at Kristi.
“Well, it was enlightening,”
Kristi
said.
“That it was, but would you say it
was entertaining, humorous or even remotely interesting?”
She wouldn’t look at Rick.
“No, certainly not.”
Rick pulled up a chair and sat down
at the table.
“C’mon, you have to
admit some of it was funny.”
“No, no, I don’t think any of it was
funny,
”
Jan
said.
“Stupid, revolting, disgusting and
yes, even enlightening.
But funny?
No,
”
Kristi
added.
“Okay, okay, so that’s why I’m here
with a fresh pitcher of beer—to make up for the bad behavior,” Rick said.
“So you admit it?”
Jan asked.
“Well, yes, although,
I
didn’t say anything that would have
offended you.”
“Actually,” Jan turned to Rick, “you
offended us by
NOT
saying anything—by
NOT
telling them to shut up nor even
acknowledging our presence.”
Rick looked confused.
“So I should have said, ‘Guys, shut up,
ladies are present?’”
“Yes, exactly.”
“But I thought female cadets didn’t
want to be singled out and didn’t want to be treated differently.”
“
Male
cadets
are clueless,”
Jan
said looking away.
“We’re damned if we do and damned if
we don’t with you guys.”
“
You
gals
, you mean,
”
Kristi
said.
“See what I’m talking about?”
Rick looked at Jan.
She glared back at him.
She thought he might be another
Cadet Trane, older and wiser than most guys in their class.
But he also might be just another
dickhead.
“Okay, well, let’s not let good beer
go to waste,
”
Kristi
said as she lifted the pitcher and poured.
She and Rick chatted away while
Jan stewed in silence.
Those
damn bells.
Thirsty and
famished, Jan rolled out of bed and rambled to the sink.
After downing a quart of tap water, she
lumbered back to bed.
Kristi
stirred and looked down at Jan from atop the bunk beds, “How are you feeling?”
“Fine, just thirsty.
And hungry.”
“When are we meeting your parents for
brunch?”
“Eleven,” Jan replied.
“Kissy?”
“Yes?”
“What do you think of Rick
Davidson?”
“He seems like a nice guy,” Kristi
said.
“Doesn’t he seem a little, too…I
don’t know…like he has everything going on?”
“Maybe,” Kristi agreed.
“And why’s he trying to be so nice to
us?
I mean, what’s his agenda?”
“Jan, maybe he's just a nice guy who
happens to be good at everything.”
“Doesn’t that freak you out just a
little bit?”
“No, not really.”
After a long pause, Kristi asked, “Why’s
that a problem with you?”
“It’s just weird, that’s all.
I mean
,
most
guys have at least one flaw.
Something I can see, or tell, that makes a guy just a little more
human.
But Davidson is like some
kind of mutant.
All the guys want
to be like him.
He’s tall, good
looking, athletic, smart and confident.
He’s too confident…it unnerves me.”
“Jan, you do realize that the same
could be said about you.”
“Are you kidding me?
I’m practically failing three classes, I
have to “study up” for every PT test, and I haven’t had a real date in my
life.”
A boyfriend is not the same as a date.
“I’m sure there are things he’s not
good at either; you just can’t see them.
Just like most people don’t know how hard you work before PT tests or
that you never had a date.
They
assume you have guys lining up to go out with you.”
“Oh c’mon, Kissy.
It’s obvious that he’s in a whole
different league than I.”
“No, it’s not obvious.
The only thing that he seems to have
that you don’t—is confidence.
And even that isn’t obvious to the casual observer.”
“Right.
And it’s his damn confidence that really
pisses me off.”
They showered, dressed in Dress Gray,
and met Jan's parents for brunch at the front steps of the Mess Hall.
This would be their last meal before the
upperclassmen returned and the normal routine resumed.
They joked and laughed with Mr. and Mrs.
Wishart over lunch, never betraying the dread that percolated in their
veins.
She hugged her parents, told them she
was fine and walked back to the room with Kristi.
“Kissy, you’re right.
I’m going to be more confident from now
on.”
“There ya go.
I knew you’d come around.”
“Ya, well, just don’t expect me to be
good at it.”
The bad guys returned Sunday
night.
Jan, Kristi and Angel stayed
in their room hoping to eek out every last minute without harassment.
Just before study hours, the Commandant
of Cadets came over the Corps-wide PA system.
“Attention all Cadets!
Attention all Cadets!
This is General Mullenbehr, Commandant
of Cadets.”
As if they didn't
know.
“I want to welcome the
upperclassmen back from spring leave.
I trust everyone had a safe and restful break.
Now it's time to buckle down and get
back to the task at hand.
I also
want to congratulate the fourth classmen for a successful week here.
Everyone should be proud of the way you
conducted yourselves, especially during plebe-parent weekend.”
Yay, we made Daddy proud!
“As a reward and to allow our fourth
classmen to take one step closer to recognition, plebes will no longer have to
square corners.”
A huge roar, louder than any rally, went
up throughout the Corps.
Jan and
Kristi jumped on their desks and started dancing and screaming with joy while
Angel jumped up and down on her bed.
In every fourth room across the regiments, the celebrating continued for
several minutes.
“Attention all
Cadets!
Attention all Cadets!”
The Commandant resumed, “Plebes
will continue to walk at quick-time.
They will continue to ping in all academic and Corps-wide areas.
Squaring corners is the only requirement
lifted.
The Superintendent and I
offer our congratulations to the Class of 1985.
Beat Navy!”
Jan, Kristi and Angel kept dancing
and jumping until they were suddenly cut off by two loud knocks at the
door.
The three plebes jumped back
to the floor, straightened their uniforms, and yelled in unison, “Enter,
Sir!”
What a surprise.
Dogety stood at the door still in
civilian clothes.
“I hope you three don't celebrate too
much.
Just because you don't have
to square corners anymore doesn't mean you get to slack off.
I will be expecting even more out of you
now.
Do you understand, Beanheads?”
“Yes, Sir,” the three replied.
“Good!
Wishart, report to my room at 1930
hours.”
“Sir, may I make a statement?”
“What?”
“Sir, that's study hours, and I am
not allowed to enter upperclass rooms.”
An easy out, she thought.
“I know that, Wishart.
Did I say to report IN my room?”
“No, Sir.”
“What did I say, Wishart?”
“Sir, you said to report to your room
at 1930 hours.”