Authors: Susan I. Spieth
They bonded quickly in those last few
weeks.
On Thursday afternoon
in late April, they ran up to the Cadet Chapel.
They kept going all the way up to Michie
Stadium where their journey as new cadets began.
They circled the football field, ran
back down to Lusk Reservoir, and stopped at the chapel entrance.
The trees, just coming back to life,
swayed slightly from the gentle breeze.
They sat on the stonewall fronting the massive oak, chapel doors and
took in the grand view of West Point.
Sam Dogety parked his car in the
firstie parking lot behind Michie Stadium and began walking down the long hill
to the barracks.
He saw Cadet
Wishart running with some plebe guy around the football field.
Then he saw them run past Lusk
Reservoir, heading back down to Thayer Road.
He wished Wishart had been his
classmate.
He would have liked to
have known
her better.
She was a sorry new cadet at first, but she had pushed through and won
his admiration after all.
She
persevered when a lot of others had given up.
She just hung in there.
And sometimes, that’s what mattered
most.
He had to admit he liked
Wishart.
He really liked her.
He wouldn’t mind dating her, but
fraternizing was forbidden.
And Sam
Dogety followed the rules, most of them anyway.
Besides, he doubted she would have
anything to do with him.
She made
it very clear how she felt about
him,
mostly by her
facial expressions, but sometimes by the way she said things.
She always sounded pissed off when
answering his questions.
He knew
she only spoke to him because she had to, never because she wanted to.
He also knew he was partly responsible
for that.
He approached the Cadet Chapel and
saw the two plebes sitting on
the stonewall
in
front.
They seemed to be having a
serious conversation.
Sam wondered
if he was her boyfriend and felt a pang of jealousy.
Graduation was less than two weeks
away.
His West Point days
were finally coming to an end, thank God.
Most cadets hated West Point while they were cadets.
They only grew to love it in
memory.
I will only climb this hill a few more times.
I only have five exams left.
I only have a few more chances to haze
plebes.
May as well enjoy all of
these things before they’re gone forever.
“Wishart!”
He shouted as he
walked toward the Chapel steps.
“Yes, Sir.”
Both plebes
popped to attention.
Dogety turned to Jenkins and said, “You’re dismissed.”
Jenkins shot a glance at Jan before
jogging down the steps leading to the back of the Mess Hall.
Without saying anything, Jan turned to Dogety and gave him a look that
said, “what the hell do you want now, asshole?”
He seemed to recognize it.
“Wishart, I’ve been meaning to ask you something.
Why do you seem pissed off all the
time?”
“I am pissed off all the time, Sir.”
“Why?
I mean, I know plebe
year sucks and all, but life isn’t really that bad, is it?”
Jan didn’t reply.
He continued, “Do you hate me, Wishart?”
“I don’t like you, Sir.”
“Because I did my job?
Because I hazed you and made you stronger?”
“Because you’re mean.
Because you seem to enjoy hazing me.”
“Wishart, I don’t enjoy hazing…okay, maybe a little.
It’s what we do here, you knew that
coming in, right?”
“Yes, I knew that.
But you never let up.
You
never stand down.
You never even
joke with us.
It’s always ‘dress,
right, dress’ with you.
Sir.”
He knew this was true, but hearing it from her felt like getting
slapped across the face.
He looked
away at the trees with their new leaves.
Their rustling made the only sound.
Then he looked back at her for a long moment.
Dogety cleared his throat.
“I liked you when I saw you on R-day, you know.
I just couldn’t show it.”
He spoke barely above a whisper.
“I still can’t.”
She remained standing at attention, looking past him.
What am I suppose to say?
What does he want from me?
Is he playing games?
Or is he serious?
“At ease, Wishart.”
Jan
relaxed her pose.
He said, “After
Recognition Day, I’d like to have a conversation with you, maybe over a couple
beers.
I’d like to hear
more…of…your honest opinion.
I know
I have a lot to learn.”
Yes, you do.
“I also know you will tell me the truth, and I’d rather hear it now
before I report to my first unit and possibly make the same mistakes.”
He seemed to be sincere.
“Sir, you have a lot of good traits.
I would be happy to advise you on a few
things, if you want.”
He smiled.
“Thanks,
Wishart.”
Okay, he has potential.
He’s teachable.
Maybe.
At 1600 hours the next day, Dogety knocked on Jan’s door.
Dressed in jeans, a button-down, plaid
shirt, and dark brown, penny loafers, he held up a pair of black, cowboy
boots.
“Miss Wishart, I need your
honest opinion.
Should I wear the
boots or the shoes this weekend?”
He had never asked her this kind of question, and she knew he was
trying to turn a new leaf.
She
smiled at the thought of him debating between footwear.
“Sir, where are you going?”
“Jackson and I are going to the city.
We’ll probably hit a few bars and
clubs.”
“Are both shoes equally comfortable?”
she
asked.
“Yes, but the loafers are easier to kick off.”
Stupid comment,
he thought.
What’s that suppose to mean?
“Okay, then wear the loafers, Sir,
”
she
said with
that look
.
“No, Wishart, I only meant that after a big night of bar hopping, it’s
sometimes difficult to deal with boots.”
He was doing it again.
Messing up everything that came out of his mouth.
“I mean, after drinking and all…
.you
know what I mean, right?”
“I think so, Sir.
Wear the
loafers.”
“Okay.
Well, thanks for the
advice.”
“Anytime, Sir.”
Dear
SKIP,
I
thought I had found you out.
But,
alas, I was wrong.
It’s not the
first time.
I
don’t think I want to know your identity now.
If I know who you are, I might act all
stupid around you.
Maybe I should
just stay in the dark.
Since
we are closing in on the end of this year, I also think it's best to stop
corresponding.
This cannot go on
forever, and I think the letters have served their purpose.
You really helped me get through plebe
year.
For that, I want to say thank
you.
Without knowing who you are,
you have been one of the best friends I made this year.
Take
care,
Jan
PS.
No, forget that shit.
I have to
know who you are.
He read her last note.
It still surprised him when she wrote
back.
He never really expected her
to respond the first time.
Yet,
they just kept coming.
He wasn’t very good at talking to
women.
He always got “all stupid,”
as Jan had written.
Even the few
times he had actually spoken to her, he messed it all up.
That’s why he started the notes.
He wouldn’t be able to hide behind
“SKIP” much longer.
He decided to
let her know his identity on Recognition Day, although, he hoped she would
figure it out on her own first.
That meant he had about two weeks left to drop a big hint.
Dear
Jan,
Don’t
worry about acting “all stupid around me.”
In case you haven’t guessed, I have kept you “in the dark” because I’m
the one who’s likely to act all stupid around you.
And yes, maybe these letters have run
their course.
But I have really
enjoyed the diversion.
I hope you
have too.
I
can’t believe you haven’t guessed my identity yet.
I have been hiding in plain view all
along.
Even more
this semester than last.
I
will definitely reveal myself on Recognition Day.
I'm
sorry I couldn't get you to join our organization—you proved to be a tougher
case than I thought!
You've taught
me a lot, too.
I hope we will
communicate as freely next year as we have this year, maybe even using our
voices.
God
Bless,
SKIP
35
Saturday,
May 8, 1982
0115 Hours
The slow reaction of the Cadet in Charge prompted Jan to shout again,
“YOU HAVE TO DO SOMETHING, NOW!”
That seemed to work as he picked up a field radio receiver, clicked the
handle and said, “Sir, we’ve got a situation here.
Come quickly.”
He put the handle back in its cradle and
looked at Jan.
“This better not be
some kind of prank.”
“It’s not.
Now come on.
We have to get back to the Mess
Hall.”
“I can’t go until the OIC gets here.”
The Officer in Charge, a Captain or
Major, stayed on duty through the night at the Command Guard Office.
“Where is he?
How long till
he gets here?”
she
demanded.
“He’s making the rounds over in First Regiment, but he’s coming
directly.”
Jan opened the door.
“I
can’t wait that long.
When he gets
here, run, I mean RUN, to the Mess Hall Poop Deck area.”
Then she took off at a full sprint back
to find Kristi.
“Kristi,” she whispered as she approached the Poop Deck.
“Kristi.”
“I’m all right,” Kristi shouted from the top.
“You don’t have to whisper now.”
Jan ran up the steps, two at a time to
find her roommate sitting on the floor by the doorway.
It was still hard to see anything, but
light from an exit sign above reflected dark stains on the front of Kristi’s
USMA sweatshirt.
Jan assumed it was
sweat.
“You must have had quite a workout,” she said, “you’re sweating like
a…”
“It’s blood, Jan,
”
Kristi
said blankly.
“Shit!
Are you okay?”
Jan bent down to get a closer look at
Kristi.
“I’m okay, I think.
Most of
it’s…not mine.”
Kristi began to
stand up.
“Let’s get out of here.”
“Oh, my God, Kristi, what happened?”
Jan pulled Kristi’s arms to help her
stand, but she slumped back down to the floor.
“I defended myself; that’s all.”
“Help is coming, Kristi.
I
think you may be hurt.”
Jan
suddenly felt more scared than she had all night.
“No, I’m fine, really.
Just
worn out. I must’ve hit a main artery.”
Just then Jan looked toward the middle of the Poop Deck.
In the darkness, she could barely make
out a figure lying on the floor in what looked like a large puddle.
“Oh, my God!”