Gray Girl (2 page)

“Yes, around that.
 
Like I said, I am not proud of having
taken up so much of Miss
Wishart’s
time.
 
We should not have continued once
academic hours began.
 
However,
Cadet
Wishart
did not step a foot into my room after
1930 hours.
 
Cadet
Dogety
also did not allow Miss
Wishart
to enter his room once the academic bell sounded.”

Upperclassmen were not allowed in
plebe rooms during study hours and vice-versa.
 
This rule was taken seriously because it
was linked to the Honor Code through plastic cards that hung inside every
cadet’s room indicating their whereabouts.
 
Cadets marked these cards either “academic,” “athletics,” “sick call,”
“post,” or “leave,” whenever they left their rooms.
 
If they went beyond the place indicated,
it could be considered an honor violation.
 

“So, you sent Miss
Wishart
back to Cadet
Dogety
with
a reply to his note?”
 
Conrad
clarified.

“Yes, then she came back again with
another note from
Dogety
.”
 
Jackson said.
 
“She made one more trip after that.”

“Okay, so she made a total of three
round trips from Third to First Regiments?”
 
This came from Cadet Leavitt, First
Regimental Honor Captain.

“Yes.”
 
Cadet Jackson looked down at his hat as
though he felt badly about that, but Jan knew better.

2

“It
is a period in which entering civilians undergo the stressful socialization
process which produces a well-disciplined, motivated class of new cadets who
are prepared for acceptance into the Corps as fourth class cadets… The new
cadet’s waking hours are completely controlled.
 
Every activity is carefully supervised.
 
Attention to detail and flawless
appearance become second nature.”

Cadet Basic Training, Bugle Notes,
81, p. 71

She knew better because Markus
Jackson had been her Platoon Sergeant in Cadet Basic Training or “Beast
Barracks.”
 
It began with R-day, the
day that lives in infamy in every West Pointer’s heart and mind.
 
It’s the demarcation line separating the
comfortable, known world you left behind and the frenzied, haunted maze of
shouting cadre you just marched into.
 

Jan
Wishart
spent the first few hours of R-Day paradoxically running around in circles
while going from line to line.
 
Her
clothes and personal items were taken away in the first line.
 
In the second line, she put on black
shorts, a white T-shirt, black knee socks, and the ugly, black shoes she had to
buy before R-Day.
 
In more lines,
someone measured her height and weight,
then
examined
her backbone, limbs, ears, eyes, nose, and throat.
 
Then in another line, she read the
bottom row of letters and signaled when she heard a beep coming from enormous
earphones.
 

She prayed there would not be a
“pelvic exam” line.
 
But thankfully,
in the last medical line, they only asked if she took birth control pills.
 
“Uh, no.”
 
She wondered how many girls her age actually
did.

In the uniform line, a short man
measured her from neck to waist, from waist to feet, and around her hips and
waist.
 
He took her breast
measurement last, his face even with the tape.
 
He then handed her a package of white
V-neck undershirts, one white collared, button-front shirt, and one pair of gray
trousers.

She went to more lines for more
uniforms and
supplies which
she put in two large green
duffel bags.
 
Her arms ached from
the strain of carrying the two fully loaded bags, so when she approached a
firstie
with a red sash after waiting in yet another line,
she dropped the bags on the ground.

“Did I say you could put your bags
down, New Cadet?”

“No, Sir.”
 
She picked up the bags.

“Did I tell you to pick up those
bags?”
 

“No, Sir.”
 
This time, the bags stayed in her sweaty
hands while she glanced at his nametag.
 
Dogety
.

“New Cadet, you will not do anything
unless you are told.
 
Do you
understand?”
  

“Yes, Sir.”

“You will not say anything unless you
are asked.
 
Do you understand?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“You will keep your eyes straight
ahead at all times, never looking around, not even at a nametag.
 
Do you understand?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“I didn’t hear you.
 
Do you understand?”

“YES, SIR!”
 

“Good. You are to report to the man
in the red sash on the fourth floor of this building.
 
He will tell you what to do next.
 
Do you understand?”

Fourth
floor?
 
“Yes, Sir!”
 
Jan turned to go, but
Dogety
stopped her again.

“New Cadet, did I dismiss you?”

“No, Sir.”
 
This time she didn’t turn back to face
him.

“You are dismissed, New Cadet.”

“Yes, Sir.”

Jan carried the heavy bags up four
flights of stairs in the antique building.
 
With its massive stone exterior and block interior, it seemed more like
an old prison.
 
God, the first floor would have been nice.
 
She reached the fourth floor and saw the
man with a red sash across the stairwell.
 
I better not screw this up.
 
Still she glanced at his nametag while walking straight toward him.
 
She stopped about a foot away from Cadet
Jackson, held onto her bags and didn’t say a word.

“What is your name, New Cadet?”

“Sir, my name is Jan
Wishart
.”

“Do you think we are friends, New
Cadet?”
 
He asked the question
calmly, which caused Jan to question whether or not she might know him.
 
“I’m waiting for an answer, Miss.”
 

“No, Sir.”

“That’s correct, New Cadet, we are
not friends.
 
And because we are not
friends, I don’t need to know your first name.
 
From now on you will be New Cadet
Wishart
.
 
Do you
understand?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Good.
 
I am your new Platoon Sergeant,
Wishart
.
 
That
means from now on you will do everything I tell you.”
 
He lowered his voice to barely above a
whisper.
 
“You will run when I say
run.
 
You will crawl when I say
crawl.
 
You will scream when I say
scream.
 
And you will shit when I
say shit.
 
Do you
understand
,
Miss
Wishart
?”

“Yes, Sir.”
  

Then raising his voice again, he
said, “In a moment, you will report to your First Sergeant. Do you see that
sign on the wall to my right?”

Jan moved her eyes but not her head.
“Yes, Sir.”

“You will memorize that sign, and you
will repeat it to your First Sergeant when you report.
 
Do you understand, New Cadet?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Good. Now step to my right and stay
there until you are called to report to the First Sergeant.”

Jan took one giant step to her left as
if she was playing
Mother, May I
.
 
She read the sign on the wall, closed her eyes, and tried to say it
without looking.
 
After several
attempts, someone from inside a room yelled, “New Cadet
Wishart
,
report to the First Sergeant in room 418.”

A few doors down the hallway, a huge
sign on the wall outside room 418 said: “LEAVE BAGS AT DOOR.”
 
Jan figured a sign that big was meant
for new cadets, so she put her bags down at the entrance, happy to give her
arms a break for a few moments.
 
She
entered the room and said the words from the previous sign.

“Sir, New Cadet
Wishart
reports to the First Sergeant of Sixth Cadet Basic Training Company for the
first time as ordered.”
 
It came out
just as it was supposed to.
 
The
only problem was the First Sergeant behind the desk was a woman.

“Do I look like a SIR to you, New
Cadet?”

“No, Sir.”

“WHAT?”

“I mean, yes, Ma’am.”

“I look like a man to you?”

“NO, MA’AM.”

“That’s better.
 
New Cadet
Wishart
,
you are entering the hardest seven weeks of your life, and in order to be
successful, you need to keep a few things in mind.
 
One, obey all orders from your
superiors.
 
Two, try your best at
everything that is expected of you.
 
Three, work together with your classmates.
 
Four,
do not
give up.
 
Five,
maintain professionalism at all times, and six, keep a healthy sense of humor.
 
Especially as a woman, New Cadet, you
must make friends with your male classmates and you must earn their respect.
 
Do you understand, New Cadet?”

“Yes, Ma’am!”
 
But Jan didn’t really understand any of
that then.
 
This First Sergeant was
the only
upperclass
woman Jan saw that day.
 
She’s
kinda
pretty. N
ot as good-looking as me,
but
not bad.

In high school, Jan had been
successful in almost everything.
 
She had been elected Vice-President of the National Honor Society, Captain
of the basketball and field hockey teams, and Senior Class President.
 
She was ranked fifth in her class and even
gave a speech at graduation along with the valedictorian.
 
She figured West Point would be more
challenging than previous ventures but one that she would handily conquer.

“Take your bags to room 425, drop
them, and report back to the man in the red sash at the top of the stairs.
 
Do you understand, New Cadet
Wishart
?”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

“Dismissed.”

Jan turned and left the room, being
sure to pick up her bags on the way out. She walked along the wall until coming
to room 425.
 
Jan placed her bags on
one of the two asylum-looking beds hugging the walls.
 
She paused a moment to look in the mirror
above a sink cabinet on one wall of the room.
 
Sweat was now sliding down her face.
Hey girl, you got this! Piece of pie! No
problem!
 
This little pep talk
drowned out another voice, deep inside, that was trying to shout something
else.

She returned to Cadet Jackson, the
man at the top of the stairs with the red sash.
 
She stopped about a foot away from him
without saying a word.
 
“New Cadet
Wishart
, did you place your bags in your room?”

“Yes, Sir.”
 

“Good.”
 
Jan saw him flinch slightly.
 
Then he lowered his voice again.
 
“
Wishart
, I do
not cut any slack for females in my platoon.
 
You either put up or shut up, just like
all the men.
 
I make no
distinctions—you’re all the same to me, and if you can’t play with the
big boys, then you don’t belong here.
 
Do you understand,
Wishart
?”

Jan looked into his brown eyes.
 
She thought they looked a little like
ones she had seen as a child but she couldn’t remember where.
 
“Yes, Sir.”

“Some upperclassmen go easy on
females, but don’t expect special treatment from me or anyone else in my
platoon.
 
Have I made myself
perfectly clear,
Wishart
?”

“Yes, Sir.”
 

His voice returned to normal.
 
“Good. You have now completed the first
phase of R-day.
 
From now on you
will be taught everything necessary to succeed in Cadet Basic Training.
 
Do you see that sign to my left, New Cadet?”

Again, she moved her eyes but not her
head.
 
“Yes, Sir.”

“Those are your five responses.
 
New cadets will use only those five
responses, unless asked for further comments or explanations.
 
Do you understand, New Cadet?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Step to my left and study those five
responses for a few minutes.
 
When
you have memorized your five responses, report to the man in the red sash back
at the entrance to this building.
 
Do
you understand?”

“Yes, Sir.”
 
And with another
Mother, May I
step
to her right, she read a sign with bold lettering:

5
Responses of New Cadets:

Yes, Sir/Ma’am

No, Sir/Ma’am

No excuse, Sir/Ma’am

Sir/Ma’am,
may I ask a question?

Sir/Ma’am,
may I make a statement?

New cadets were
not to say anything other than these five responses.
 
Coming from a large, loud, animated
family, Jan realized she was in trouble.

She returned to
Dogety
,
the first red sash man.
 
He taught
her how to salute.
 
“Place the tip
of your right forefinger at the outside edge of your right eyebrow.”
 
When Jan followed that instruction,
Dogety
made a grimace.
 
“New Cadet, may I touch you?”
 

She must not have heard him
right.
 
“Sir?”

“Is that one of your five responses,
Wishart
?”

“No, Sir.”
 
Her arm was still in the salute
position.
 
Somewhat.

“Then let’s try that again.
 
May I touch you?”

“Yes, Sir.”

Dogety
adjusted her upper arm, making it parallel to the ground.
 
He pushed her elbow back so it came in
alignment with her shoulder.
 
Then
he flattened her fingers so that they formed a straight line with her forearm
at a forty-five-degree angle from the elbow.
 
He dropped his hands to his side again
and said, “Sharp corners, straight arms and hands, New Cadet.”
 
Then he sent her off to more lines where
she learned how to stand at “attention,” “forward march,” “right face,” “left
face,” “about face,” “halt,” “present arms,” and stand “at ease”—which
seemed a like an oxymoron to Jan.