Stories

I Used to Be

The young man in civilian clothing lay on his back on the corner of the Parade Ground, spread eagle, either passed out, asleep on a cold fall morning, or dead.  I hoped it wasn't the latter.

Kady, E, and I were on our way home from a Bridgewater College football game.  E's best friend Britt was a cheerleader at Bridgewater.  Her boyfriend was the kicker.  Britt's mom was Kady's hairdresser and a family friend.  When asked if I wanted to go, I thought looking at pretty girls for four quarters might be fun.

It was.  I don't think I watched any of the game.

Having worked the whole day before, I was exhausted when we started home.  It was well after midnight, and I fell asleep in the back seat of E's 4-Runner during the hour-long drive back to Lexington.  We got back about 2 am.

On Saturdays, all Cadets not on restrictions may go downtown on a General Permit (GP).  GP allows them to stay off Post on Friday and Saturday nights until Taps.  At Taps they must be in their rooms to be "Alright."   If not Alright at Taps, a cadet has 48 hours to report themselves by Form-24, called a Self Bone.  Failure to report yourself as "Not Alright at Taps" is an honor violation subject to dismissal from the Institute.  They are not allowed to wear civilian clothes in Rockbridge County or Downtown.

Since Taps is an Honor thing, it is taken very seriously by the Corps.  If you care to gauge how seriously, sit on one of the benches along Letcher Avenue a few minutes before Taps on a Friday or Saturday night and watch the drunken members of the Corps sprinting across the Parade Ground to make it to their room before the last note.  That's a Hoot!

As Kady and E turned left on Parade Avenue, they noticed a body on the grass.  They stopped and woke me up.  I gave the body, dressed in jeans and a tee-shirt, a kick in the ribs, checking responsiveness and consciousness.

The kid opened his eyes and looked up, slowly gathering his senses.

Are You OK?

Yes, Sergeant Major.

Young Man, are you a Cadet?

The kid sighed, realizing his predicament, and said, "I used to be Sergeant Major."

I stood him up and had him attempt to walk.  Finding him unable, I sat him down on the curb and called the Guard Room.  I had them call the Post Police, who drove the cadet back to the Barracks and turned him over to the Officer in Charge (OC).

While we waited, he attempted to explain how this happened, incriminating himself further.  I finally had to tell him to shut up before he told me something that would get him suspended or dismissed.

Monday afternoon, the cadet faithfully reported himself to the Deputy Commandant, COL Levenson (The L-Train), for missing Taps.  Waiting on him were Specials for Running The Block, Wearing Civvies Up Town, and visiting a Washington and Lee Fraternity House.

The L-Train, feeling that missing Taps was probably enough, only boned him for that and for "Loitering in Civilian Clothes on Post."

The young man remained a Cadet and graduated.

I wonder if he tells and re-tells his version of this story like I do.  I hope he has learned to laugh about it.