“I’m sure we can’t have a meeting and discuss all the options.” Jan seethed between her teeth.
“Okay, you decide then,” Kristi said. Jan didn’t want to hide, but since Kristi did, she agreed. Their eyes had adjusted to the darkness and Jan crawled under what looked like table 149 while Kristi crept under table 163. They both kept in a crouching position in case they had to make a run for it.
Only a moment later, they heard the attacker lumbering through the kitchen through which they had just passed. He pushed through the double swinging doors and began prowling up and down the rows and rows of tables.
“I know you bitches are in here,” he shouted. “I can smell you.”
Jan kept quiet under table 149. She heard him come closer and closer. He approached her table. She held her breath. She saw his black cadet shoes as he walked passed. That’s it, bastard, keep going.
She watched his shoes as he turned at the end of the row and came back down the next row over where Kristi’s table was. “You can’t fool me, bitches, I’ll find you eventually.” Jan saw him stop right next to table 163. “Ah, what have we here?” He lifted the tablecloth with the toe of his shoe.
Kristi bolted out the other side and began running wildly, butcher knife in hand. Jan jumped out from her hiding spot and ran after her friend, relying mainly on sound given that she could barely see anything. They ran into tables, chairs and food carts, knocking over dishes, silverware, serving trays, and any number of condiments. Thankfully, their pursuer had the same problem. But he was faster and more nimble at getting back up and was quickly closing the gap.
Kristi ran toward the Poop Deck, the large stone balcony in the middle of the Mess Hall where announcements were made at every meal. Jan ran after the shadow that was her roommate, following it up the steps of the Poop Deck. No, Kissy, not up. Anywhere but up.
The man saw the two women enter the stairwell and gave chase. “Now, you’re going to pay,” he shouted.
“Kristi, what are you doing?” Jan called to her friend.
“Just keep following me, Jan,” Kristi called back as she reached the balcony and raced across it. Jan followed, making sure not to look over the sides. They arrived at the other end where another stairway lead back down to the main floor. Kristi turned to Jan, “You know where you are now, go get the CG and come back as quickly as you can.”
“What about you?” Jan asked.
“Just go!” Kristi shouted.
Jan didn’t think. She just ran down the steps, two at a time. She kept running, out a familiar exit, then all the way to the Command Guard office where she flung open the door, and shouted, “COME QUICKLY! SOMEONE’S TRYING TO KILL MY ROOMMATE!”
34
Accomplishment of the mission
Welfare of his subordinates
Efficient use of resources
Responsibilities of a Commander, Bugle Notes, 81, p. 57
Staying focused on academics became a huge problem for most cadets by the end of April. Everyone began planning and imagining their summer leave. Jan knew she needed a study group to help her focus on term end exams, so she rounded up her small band of friends. Drew and Jan sat on her bed while Kristi and Angel sat on the floor for their first session at 2000 hours.
“Officer in the building!” Someone shouted from the hallway and the four plebes popped to attention. Metal taps from an officer's shoes became louder and louder. Click, click, click, click. The tapping stopped when G-3’s Tactical Officer, Captain Easmann, arrived at their door. Behind him stood Drew's Squad Leader and Company Commander.
“Cadet Hambin, come with me,” Captain Easmann ordered.
Jan and Drew looked at each other. Then he shrugged his shoulders and walked out of the door, following his TAC. Jan tiptoed to the door, peeked around the frame, and watched as Drew disappeared in the stairwell.
The next morning, Jan’s history professor ordered the class to pick up their desks and place them a couple feet apart from each other. The “Stagger Desks” command was kind of like “Fallout.” Everyone moved their desks to random, disorderly positions. This supposedly diminished the ability and temptation to cheat. She rushed through the pop quiz, not caring about her grade, dropped the paper on her professor’s desk and ran out of the door to find Drew.
She couldn’t study after Captain Easmann took Drew away. His room had been empty both times she had checked before Taps. She couldn't sleep most of the night either and hadn’t seen him all morning. Now she knocked softly again on his door.
“Come in.”
Claude Jenkins, Drew’s roommate, sat at his desk behind his neatly made bed. The other bed, Drew’s bed, had been stripped. No sheets, no blanket, no pillow. Drew’s desk sat empty. Papers, books, alarm clock were all missing.
“Where's Drew?” she asked.
“He resigned,” Jenkins said.
“WHAT???”
“They made him move all his stuff to Transient Barracks this morning.”
“Why?”
“He should tell you.”
“Tell me now!”
“I’m not supposed to say anything.”
“C’mon Jenk, you know I’m his best friend.”
“That’s why he should be the one to tell you. I’ll go with you to see him if you want.”
“Yes, I want to see him. But give me a hint, dammit.”
Claude Jenkins stood up. “C’mon, let’s go.”
The two plebes raced over to “Transient Barracks,” which wasn't the name of a building like Thayer Hall or Washington Hall. It was the label given to a set of rooms used to transfer cadets out of the Corps—a holding area for anyone who resigned or was expelled.
They found Drew there alone in a room with all his bags packed. He seemed smaller somehow. He looked defeated, empty. Transient.
“Drew!” She ran to hug him. He had tears in his eyes, and Jan’s started to well up also. “Drew, what happened?”
“I had to resign,” he said. “I didn't have a choice.”
“Why?” Jan asked as Jenkins stood quietly next to her.
“A couple of my wrestling teammates accused me of being a homosexual. They said I tried to touch them in the locker room.”
Jan gasped, “Oh, Drew!”
“I know. It's not fair. It's not right. But it's their word against mine. And there are two of them.”
“No!” she cried. No, No, NO! “They can’t do this, Drew; we can fight it.”
“I’m afraid we can’t,” he said.
Jan stared at him in disbelief. I lift mine eyes…“Why not? We’ve fought plenty of things already. What’s one more?”
Drew sighed, “This is too big, Jan. I can’t win.”
...to the hills, from whence cometh my help. This couldn’t be happening. Not now. Not to Drew. Weren’t there plenty of other cadets who didn’t want, or didn’t deserve, to stay at West Point? Shouldn’t Jan be the one to leave? She didn’t know what to think or how to feel.
“Are you a homosexual?”
“No!” he said immediately. “Of course not.”
It didn't matter either way to her. Yet homosexuals would never be accepted in the Army. Everyone knew that. Drew continued, “the TAC told me I had two choices: I could resign and leave with dignity or I could try to fight it and get kicked out anyway.”
Or was it: From whence cometh my help? Is it a statement or a question? “Drew, there’s got to be a way to fight this. I will stand by you. So will Kissy, and you, too, Jenk, right? She turned to Drew’s roommate.
“Uh, I…I’ll do what I can,” Jenkins said.
“Thanks guys, but there’s nothing anyone can do. It’s over,” Drew sighed. His shoulders fell.
I lift mine eyes…to the hills… “Drew! Drew! Drew!” She choked as she said his name “How can I stay without you?”
“Don’t say that, Jan. You’ve done everything on your own and you’ll be fine.” He put his arms around her.
“No. No, I won’t be fine.” S
he hugged him again. The two friends sat down on the bed. Jenkins sat on Drew’s footlocker. They talked for close to an hour until there was nothing more to say. Nothing could be done. They were powerless to change the judgment and sentence. There would be no leniency. No appeal. No pardon.
They could only say goodbye and hope that someday, everything would be okay. But Jan knew nothing would be okay. Nothing would ever be okay.
She hugged him one last time. “Drew, I don’t want to stay here without you.” She felt the tidal wave rising in her bowels. I will not cry, I will not cry, I will not cry.
“I want you to stay. I want you to finish. Make me proud,” Drew said.
“I can’t, I can’t…”
“Stop that right now, you hear?” He cut her off. “Besides, you have other friends, Jan.”
“No one like you!”
“Well, that’s true, but still, you have friends here who need you and who will take care of you.”
She felt Jenkins’ hand on her shoulder. “C’mon Jan. It’s time to go.”
“Take care of her, Jenk,” Drew said, “and let her bitch at you every so often.”
Jan slunk toward the door. She heard Jenkins mumble something to Drew. It sounded a little like “she already does.”
As soon as they exited the building, Jan took off running. She ran along the Apron fronting The Plain, past George Washington on his high horse and past MacArthur on his pedestal. The tears would not wait until she was safely under her Gray Girl this time. Like Clark Kent in a desperate search for a phone booth, she ran faster and faster. She had to find a spot, anywhere, to hide and transform from one person into another. She kept running away from the barracks toward the road leading up to the Cadet Chapel. She ran so fast, the tears didn’t fall down her cheeks. Instead they traced a line from the outside corners of her eyes to her ears, dropping inside her eardrums. It seemed more like her ears were crying. She thought how funny it would be if people cried from their ears instead of their eyes. She thought about all those nights in Beast when she cried herself to sleep. Lying face up, her tears fell in her ears then too.
This isn't really crying. Since the tears go from one orifice to another. Since they never fall down my cheeks. Since they never land on my chest, or my lap, or my arms. Since they start inside and finish inside....they really don't count. And I've never really cried at all.
Dear SKIP,
Drew Hambin, my best friend, resigned today. His teammates accused him of being a homosexual. I do not believe it—but even if it is true—it still does not alter my opinion of him. He is a good, kind and intelligent person. He was a good cadet and he would have been a great officer. They labeled him guilty before he could even speak for himself. We may have overcome some prejudices, but mankind will always carry resentment for a different kind. I'm not saying Drew is a homosexual—I’m saying that even if he is—why should that stop him from being a good Army officer?
Drew's resignation shook my belief in this place even more. If his teammates lied, then that shoots the honor system all to hell. And as to my belief in a good and caring God…well, this situation didn’t help that either.
Jan
Dear Jan,
I am very sorry to hear about Drew. I know you must be quite upset. Yet, I’m sure Drew would want you to hang on and finish what you’ve started. He would want you to succeed.
We are very close now to finishing this year. It’s right around the corner. I suppose if you have not guessed my identity by recognition day, I will reveal myself to you. I sort of prefer to stay in hiding, but I know it’s not fair to you to keep you guessing. Still, I hope you will not treat me differently once you know who I am.
Keep your head up. Despite this setback, you still have a lot to be happy about.
SKIP
Deep down, Jan believed Drew might be gay. Although, she also wondered if the charges were trumped-up out of jealousy. Drew’s good looks, athletic prowess, and total ease around women might have been threatening to guys who wanted to have even one of those qualities. She just could not believe he would try to molest his teammates. He’s just not that incredibly stupid.
Anyone who made sexual advances on someone else in an inappropriate way ought to be “resigned,” she accepted that much. If that were really enforced, then there might be more cadets in transient barracks than in all of Old South.
Although Jan didn’t know Jenkins very well, he seemed almost as upset about Drew’s departure as she was. She stopped by his room on occasions to commiserate with him and because she just wanted to make a new friend if possible.
Claude Jenkins was an average guy. His height, weight and looks were average—not great, not bad either. He seemed to be about average in academics and athletics. That made him just about the ideal friend, she figured. Just like me, Jan, the middle child, the average girl. Jan, not Jane nor January nor Janiqua. Just Jan.
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, yo
u 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.
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