“Sir, I...”
“Quit callin’ me ‘Sir,’ Bitch!” The words flew out of her mouth and she regretted it immediately. But this would be her only chance to give the shit back to him, even if she had to pay for it later.
She walked to him, putting her face only inches from his. In a voice barely above a whisper, she said, “You're not just spazzing off in my hallway, Dogety. You’re an embarrassment to the entire Long Gray Line. Grant, Lee, Pershing, Patton, MacArthur and Eisenhower—all of them are turning in their graves now because of you. These great ones who came before us—their honor, their sacrifice and their spirit—are still here but you are tarnishing that legacy. You will NOT make a mockery of this great institution. Now get the hell out of my hallway!”
Silence.
Even Jan could not believe she had repeated, practically verbatim, the words Jackson had fumed at her in Beast. She had not realized how much she had internalized. “Do you understand me, Dogety?”
He turned and walked away.
Jan and Kristi moseyed into the Mess Hall as all firsties were known to do. They sat on either side of Angel, the table Commander. The cows and yearlings took their usual spots. Dogety, Trane and Wincowski sat in the plebe seats.
“Ma’am, the drink for tonight is lemonade. Would anyone not care for lemonade, Ma’am?” Wincowski yelled.
“Sir, the dessert for tonight is chocolate pie. Would anyone not care for chocolate pie, Sir?” Dogety continued to show disrespect toward the plebe women.
Jan decided not to say any more to Dogety. But Kristi said, “Dogety, do we look like SIRs to you?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Leave it alone, Kissy,” Jan whispered.
“Dogety, the reason you can’t tell the difference is because you don’t have any experience with women,” Kristi shouted down the table.
Oh no…here we go.
“Men who know women don’t have a problem recognizing them,” Kristi added. “But you always have problems with that…hmmm…”
Kissy, leave it alone.
“Sir, I know one when I see one,” Dogety spouted off.
“Shut up, Dogety!” Angel yelled. Jan and Kristi looked at her incredulously. Angel never said anything mean or remotely cross. “You don’t have an opinion here.”
Wow! Angel! Who would have known?
One minute after the study hour bell sounded, Dogety pounded on her door. Jan had already filled in her roommates about the minute calling incident, and they all knew he would come for her.
“Come with me, Wishart!” He was wearing his Full Dress Gray coat, the coat with brass buttons and tails. Jan followed him to Cadet Holdern’s door. “Wait here.” Dogety went inside the new Company Commander’s room. Jan stood outside, desperately trying to hear through the door.
She was not sorry for saying those things to Dogety, and she would not apologize or whatever else they wanted her to do. But then she began to panic. What if I have just blown everything? What if they kick me out for insubordination? Or worse, what if they give me a hundred hours of walking tours? Oh damn, why'd I open my big mouth?
“Cadet Wishart, report to the Company Commander!” Dogety shouted from inside.
She opened the door, stepped into the room and saluted. “Cadet Wishart reporting as ordered, Sir.” The room was dark, lit only by candles on the sink, the desks, and the windowsill. Firstie sabers, pulled from their scabbards were displayed across each bed. The Company Commander and his Executive Officer, Dogety, were seated behind their desks, in Full Dress Gray. Cadet Trousdale, Jan’s second semester Squad Leader, stood in the middle of the desks facing Jan. Oh man, this is serious.
Holdern saluted back from his seat and said, “Cadet Wishart, Cadet Dogety reports that you have been highly disrespectful and insubordinate and have acted in a manner unbecoming an officer tonight. Is that correct?”
“Sir, may I make a statement?”
“Go ahead.”
“Sir, tonight was role reversal. I spoke to Cadet Dogety in the same way others have spoken to me in the past.”
“Was it disrespectful, insubordinate and unbecoming, Cadet Wishart?”
“Yes, Sir, it probably was.” Jan could not say otherwise.
“Probably?”
“Yes, Sir. It was.”
“Cadet Wishart, what did you say exactly?” Holdern asked.
“Sir, I told Dogety he had arms like spaghetti and his body looked like a limp noodle.”
“Is that all?”
“No, Sir. There was more,” Jan admitted.
“Well?”
“Sir, I told him he was unattractive to women, and I called him a bitch and an embarrassment to the Long Gray Line.” Okay, I will be packing my trunk tonight.
Jan couldn't be sure, but she thought she saw a faint smile on Cadet Holdern’s face. Her Squad Leader cleared his throat. Both looked down for a moment. The Commander looked back at Jan and said, “If you felt you were treated in a disrespectful manner, why didn't you report it to your superiors before?”
“Sir, I...” Since when do plebes demand respect?
“What, Wishart?”
“Sir, I just...I just didn't know....”
“Ignorance is no excuse, Cadet Wishart. If you had a legitimate grievance, you could have come to any one of the upperclassmen in your chain of command and it could have been dealt with professionally,” the Commander stated.
“Yes, Sir.” It’s that chain of command thing…
“Miss Wishart, it is never appropriate to degrade someone. You will never lead people by attacking them personally. Do you understand me, Cadet Wishart?”
“Yes, Sir.” Although that was the whole point.
“There's never any excuse, even during role reversal, to talk that way to subordinates. You will never garner respect as a leader if you speak to people like that. It's unacceptable and I will not tolerate it in Company H-3. This is a serious offense, Cadet Wishart.” Cadet Holdern seemed to have a slight smirk.
“Yes, Sir.”
“Please leave the room while we discuss your punishment.” Jan executed an about face and walked out closing the door behind her. She waited in the hallway again but didn't try to listen to the conversation this time.
Whatever! If they send me packing, maybe it's for the best anyway. She thought she heard an argument between Dogety and Holdern. But then she heard laughter and thought she must have been mistaken.
Just as she decided to lean her ear to the door, Dogety shouted, “Wishart, report to the Company Commander!”
She reported as before, then Cadet Holdern said, “Cadet Wishart, you have committed a serious offense, you have insulted a superior officer. You have shown disrespect for your chain of command. You have displayed conduct unbecoming an officer. Do you have anything further to say in your defense?”
“No, Sir.” I’m screwed. Do not pass go, do not collect $200…
“With Cadet Dogety's full support, we have decided to give you another chance, Miss Wishart. We believe you can learn from this incident and use it to become a better officer. Therefore, we have decided not to give you demerits or area tours for this infraction,” Holdern said. “Cadet Wishart, you are going to dig a grave instead.”
What? “Sir, I don't understand?”
“We’ve had a death in the H-3 family tonight. Our mascot, Cadet Harold, has met an untimely demise.” He said this with a completely straight face. “We were just preparing for the burial with full honors when your situation came to our attention.”
Dogety finally spoke, “I will show you the location where you will dig Cadet Harold's grave, which must be the size of a shoebox. You will do this using only your bayonet and a Mess Hall serving spoon. Do you understand your task, Miss Wishart?”
“Yes, Sir.” Cadet Harold? She didn't even know they had an H-3 mascot.
“Good.” Then both the Commander and the Executive Officer stood at attention. Cadet Holdern said, “Present Arms,” and they all saluted.
Jan didn't quite understand who was saluting whom. Then she noticed the upperclassmen staring at the floor. Between the beds with the unsheathed sabers was a shoebox.
Jan followed Dogety outside across The Apron and onto The Plain. She was never afraid of Dogety; she just hated how much he seemed to disdain her. As they walked, she thought she felt disgust flowing from him. When they arrived at the center of The Plain, Dogety pulled out a large spoon, handed it to Jan and said, “Start digging, Wishart.”
Jan knelt down and began to dig the hole. The bayonet proved to be an essential tool in the half-frozen terra firma. She forgot to wear gloves, and her fingers became numb from the cold. Once she loosened the ground with the bayonet, she was able to scoop out the dirt with the spoon. Dogety walked around her in circles like a wolf stalking its prey. For at least twenty minutes, he said nothing. Then he stopped pacing and said, “Wishart, you surprised me tonight. I never thought you had it in you. I thought you were too weak for this place. But tonight, you proved otherwise. You can take it, AND you can dish it out. You made me proud, Wishart.” Jan kept digging, ignoring him. “WISHART! I'M TALKING TO YOU!”
“Yes, Sir.”
Then Dogety squatted down and put his face right up next to her ear. “I did a pretty good job with you after all. I can graduate knowing my work here is done.” Then he stood back up and resumed his circling. She finished the hole in about an hour. Dogety measured it and made her dig another inch deeper.
At 2400 hours, Company H-3 held formation on The Plain. One of the cadets played “Taps” on a flute while another ceremoniously lowered the shoebox casket into the hole. The Commander shouted “Present Arms.” All of Company H-3 saluted as Cadet Harold the Hamster was laid to rest.
25
Friday, May 7, 1982
2030 Hours
Dear Jan,
I’ve been trying to talk to my Honor Rep, but he’s been “tied up” all day—that’s all his roommate will tell me. You didn’t tell me much, but I believe I will be able to help. I have filled out a statement and only need to submit it to the Honor Rep. I want to be sure to follow the chain of command, but I understand that once it’s submitted, I will be called to testify.
I guess the jig will be up for me then.
SKIP
She quickly scribbled a reply and taped it back on her door.
SKIP,
This is great news…I don’t know what it is you know, but I trust it will be useful to me. Don’t delay! Make sure your Honor Rep gets in touch with my Honor Rep, Cadet Trane, ASAP! I’m going to bug him until he tells me he’s heard something. I will go by his room every 30 minutes tonight…so get moving. PLEASE!
Thank you so much.
Jan
Jan filled in Angel and Kristi quickly while changing into shower uniform. Then, dressed in only a thin, gray, polyester bathrobe, over flip-flops, with a towel draped over the right arm, she pinged down the hallway to the women’s latrine. After showering, she exited the latrine in the same way only with wet hair.
Dogety called to her as she passed his door, “Miss Wishart, come here for a minute, please.”
Dang. Haven’t we had enough time together today? “Yes, Sir?” She stood at the entrance to his room. His roommate probably had a weekend pass.
“Come in, please,” he said. She walked into his room in the bathrobe and flip-flops, towel still draped over one arm. “Please, sit down.” Cadet rooms have limited seating choices: a bed, a desk chair, a footlocker or the floor. Jan sat on his roommate’s bed. Dogety stood up from his desk, walked to the door and closed it. Then he sat down on the bed, next to Jan, so close that their thighs were touching.
Both stared at her flip-flopped feet. Neither spoke for what seemed like a full minute. Then, he placed his right hand over her left, picking it up gently and moving it onto his thigh. Jan couldn’t move. Fraternization was forbidden between plebes and upperclassmen. If anyone opened Dogety’s door at that point, they would have been in even more trouble. Holding hands behind closed doors was bad enough. Jan dressed in only a bathrobe made it even worse.
But she wasn’t terribly worried about being caught at that moment. For most of the entire year, she wanted Dogety to leave her alone. Now, she felt something different, something strange and hidden but also somewhat familiar. It gnawed at her, but she couldn’t think of the word to describe it. Anger maybe, because he wasn’t supposed to be tender. He was supposed to play his usual role, and she didn’t know quite what to do with this “nice” Dogety. Maybe she felt angry that he waited this long, almost to the end of the year, to be vulnerable with her.
“Jan,” he said, “you don’t need to help me. I need to help you.”
“I know you do. That’s what I have been saying all along,” she turned to face him.
“Well, you’ve taught me a valuable lesson. I will make this right,” he said turning to her.
An uncomfortable silence stood between them. Sam Dogety dipped his head toward hers. She did not back away. He kissed her lips once, softly and gently. They parted momentarily. Then both came toward each other with a fierce, desperate resolve—kissing so hard it almost hurt.
26
A cadet's busy schedule is not without its lighter moments.
Cadet Activities, Bugle Notes, 81, p.89
West Point turned even grayer in late February. Plebes formed up for breakfast in morning grayness and again for dinner formation in evening grayness. A perpetual cycle took hold—gray over gray over gray over gray.
The fourth classmen continued to count down the days until spring break, ring weekend and graduation. This part of poop seemed to serve a greater purpose. It’s a daily reminder that all this shit will eventually end.
With drill suspended during these gray months, Jan and Drew joined the Cadet Ushering Club. In Dress Gray over gray with white belts and white gloves, they handed out playbills at Eisenhower Hall for a new Broadway play called, Fiddler on the Roof.
Dogety and his date came to their door. “Evening, Wishart,” he said.
“Evening, Sir.”
“When did you start ushering?”
“In January, Sir.”
“Oh. First time I've seen you here.”
First time I've seen you here, too.
“Next time, shine your shoes. Those are unacceptable, Wishart.”
“Yes, Sir.” Jan gave a thumbs-down signal to Drew. Jan judged male cadets, giving an inconspicuous thumbs-up at her side if one was good looking. Thumbs-down meant “not so much.” Drew judged the female companions. They rarely encountered male and female cadets together. And they never saw female cadets with civilian men.
Jan enjoyed this unofficial part of ushering—judging the looks of male upperclassmen. She rated them not only on their facial attraction but also on their body type—tall, short, heavy set, skinny, etc. The cadets had to pass the “whole package test”—good-looking face, nice hair, above-average height, and not too heavy nor too skinny. Most importantly, above all else, the male cadet had to say “thank you” when she handed him the playbill. Even if all the physical attributes were there, a “non-thanking” cadet automatically received a thumbs-down from Jan. She gave the thumbs-down more often than not.
Drew gave Dogety’s date a thumbs-up. Shit, why couldn't she have been butt ugly?
After the show began, an old woman, who was about fifty, rose from her seat and walked up the aisle to their door. Jan got up from her back row seat, opened the door and waited in the lobby until the woman returned from the restroom. As Jan reached for the door again, the woman whispered, “Excuse me, Miss. I just have to ask you a question.”
“Yes, Ma’am?”
“Are you a lesbian?”
What?? “No, Ma'am, I'm not.” She held the door as the woman entered the theater again. Then Jan whispered to her, “Are you?”
The woman huffed and snorted back down the aisle to her seat. Ha! That's what you get for asking a stupid-ass question!! Jan returned to her seat next
to Drew who signaled thumbs-up.
Dear Jan,
No need to be worried. I am not a stalker. But you’ll have to excuse guys for staring at you in Drowning. We males tend to stare at females, especially when they have little on.
I heard you had the honor of digging the grave for dearly departed Cadet Harold. It was certainly a better sentence than what they could have given you. I hope you will be more careful. There are a lot of killjoys here who do their best to make sure no one has fun.
I hope to hear from you soon,
SKIP
Dear SKIP,
Ah-ha! So you are in my Drowning class! That narrows it down considerably. I don’t think you are in my Company, so you are probably in G or I. It won’t be long now until I discover your identity. I hope you’re ready!
And while men may like to stare at women with very little on, all that leering makes us rather uncomfortable. A little subtlety would go a long way. Especially since we are practically naked in the Speedos. But I have to admit, you guys have it worse Speedo-wise.
Yes, I dug Harold's grave. Apparently, there are no secrets at West Point. I have tried to stay away from the killjoys. Unfortunately, they seem to find their way to me anyway. There are just so many of them. There is one in particular who takes great pleasure in trying to upset me. Not that he has to try very hard. I am generally unhappy anyway.
I guess most of it is because of this place—the rules, the demands, the stress of being a plebe. But sometimes I wonder if there are other reasons. I come from a really good family. I have parents who love me and have always taken good care of me. I have friends back home and one or two here. I really have no reason to be unhappy—no excuses for being miserable (other than the whole WP thing).
Yet, I am.
Jan
“Take boards!” Captain Ortiz commanded. The entire calculus class popped out of their chairs to stand in front of a section of chalkboard. Jan lifted a piece of chalk and rested her head against the black slate. Captain Ortiz said, “Set up the integral to determine the work to empty a full swimming pool of water that has a rectangular bottom with length twelve feet and width ten feet and a rectangular top with length twenty feet and width ten feet. The pool is eight feet underground. The water has a density of approximately 62.4 pounds per cubic foot. You may work together in pairs.”
Gray Girl Page 18