around a bit, just a little banter, but he doesn’t hesitate to put them in the front-leaning rest—the push-up position—if they don’t respond fast enough to instructions.
Platoon Sergeant Stitt, who stands off to the side, says the platoon sergeants and company first sergeant—the highest-ranking cadet NCOs in the company—are saddled with a great deal of sudden, wide responsibility, especially considering that for most of them their entire leadership experience has been supervising one or two plebes during the previous semester. Now they’re responsible for forty or fifty or in the case of Company First Sergeant Josh Gilliam, 158 new cadets.
“We’re allowed to try things and do things differently,” Stitt says. “They [the Tacs] guide us into the right lane.” He holds up his hands to indicate a left and right limit. This is the same description Olson used when talking about letting the cadre figure things out on their own.
A new cadet appears beside Stitt to report that he has successfully completed one of the required tasks. Perhaps inspired by the casual surroundings, the new cadet stands in a relaxed posture. Stitt, who has a serious demeanor for a young man, doesn’t even vary his voice as he says, “What do you want?”
“I completed …”
“Don’t be dropping ‘sirs’ or I’ll be dropping you,” Stitt interrupts.
“Sir, I have completed the task, ‘don protective mask.’”
Stitt makes a note on a card that lists the names of all forty-plus new cadets in his charge. A moment later another new cadet walks by on his way to the Porta-John that serves the site. He is bareheaded.
“Where’s your helmet?” Stitt asks.
The new cadet looks at the platoon sergeant, then scrambles to retrieve the helmet, which he jams onto his head.
“Drop,” Stitt says, matter-of-factly.
The new cadet, who is also carrying his rifle, bends over to get into the push-up position, but he doesn’t know what to do with the weapon. Somehow he knows he shouldn’t just lay it on the ground.
“Like this,” Stitt says. He drops into the front-leaning rest, his rifle resting on the backs of his hands.
Stitt didn’t get to West Point by the traditional route. The son of an Air Force enlisted man and grandson of a World War II Army Air Forces veteran, Stitt enlisted to become a helicopter pilot. He ended up at Fort Bragg, flying in the back of the Army’s workhorse aircraft, the Blackhawk.
His lieutenant saw his potential and said to him, “Hey, Stitt, you’re not married, you’ve got good SATs; how about applying for West Point?”
“I told him, ‘No way, sir. I’m not a school guy’” Stitt says, narrating.
“And then one day I was on detail at the [82nd Airborne Division] museum. I’m sweeping up and I notice a display about General [Jim] Gavin.”
Gavin, USMA ‘29, commanded the 505th Parachute Infantry regiment on D Day, and later commanded the entire division. He is a legend in a unit with no shortage of heroes. Even as a general, he carried a rifle into battle. In today’s division headquarters at Fort Bragg, North Carolina, an entire wall is covered with photographs of division commanders; Gavin is the only one wearing a helmet in his photo.
“I looked in this case and I noticed that General Gavin was an enlisted man before he came to West Point,” Stitt says. “So I went back to the lieutenant and said I’d give it a try. I wrote the essays [for admission] the week they were due. I did everything at the last minute.”
Stitt’s claim to fame as a cadet is an attempted “spirit mission” just before the Army-Navy football game the previous fall.
“Spirit mission” is a catchall description for almost any high-spirited,unorthodox activity that is designed to shake up the status quo; organizers of the most imaginative missions can taste a bit of fame. Douglas MacArthur, who was number-one man in his class of 1903, engineered the removal of the reveille cannon to the top
Platoon Sergeant Stitt, who stands off to the side, says the platoon sergeants and company first sergeant—the highest-ranking cadet NCOs in the company—are saddled with a great deal of sudden, wide responsibility, especially considering that for most of them their entire leadership experience has been supervising one or two plebes during the previous semester. Now they’re responsible for forty or fifty or in the case of Company First Sergeant Josh Gilliam, 158 new cadets.
“We’re allowed to try things and do things differently,” Stitt says. “They [the Tacs] guide us into the right lane.” He holds up his hands to indicate a left and right limit. This is the same description Olson used when talking about letting the cadre figure things out on their own.
A new cadet appears beside Stitt to report that he has successfully completed one of the required tasks. Perhaps inspired by the casual surroundings, the new cadet stands in a relaxed posture. Stitt, who has a serious demeanor for a young man, doesn’t even vary his voice as he says, “What do you want?”
“I completed …”
“Don’t be dropping ‘sirs’ or I’ll be dropping you,” Stitt interrupts.
“Sir, I have completed the task, ‘don protective mask.’”
Stitt makes a note on a card that lists the names of all forty-plus new cadets in his charge. A moment later another new cadet walks by on his way to the Porta-John that serves the site. He is bareheaded.
“Where’s your helmet?” Stitt asks.
The new cadet looks at the platoon sergeant, then scrambles to retrieve the helmet, which he jams onto his head.
“Drop,” Stitt says, matter-of-factly.
The new cadet, who is also carrying his rifle, bends over to get into the push-up position, but he doesn’t know what to do with the weapon. Somehow he knows he shouldn’t just lay it on the ground.
“Like this,” Stitt says. He drops into the front-leaning rest, his rifle resting on the backs of his hands.
Stitt didn’t get to West Point by the traditional route. The son of an Air Force enlisted man and grandson of a World War II Army Air Forces veteran, Stitt enlisted to become a helicopter pilot. He ended up at Fort Bragg, flying in the back of the Army’s workhorse aircraft, the Blackhawk.
His lieutenant saw his potential and said to him, “Hey, Stitt, you’re not married, you’ve got good SATs; how about applying for West Point?”
“I told him, ‘No way, sir. I’m not a school guy’” Stitt says, narrating.
“And then one day I was on detail at the [82nd Airborne Division] museum. I’m sweeping up and I notice a display about General [Jim] Gavin.”
Gavin, USMA ‘29, commanded the 505th Parachute Infantry regiment on D Day, and later commanded the entire division. He is a legend in a unit with no shortage of heroes. Even as a general, he carried a rifle into battle. In today’s division headquarters at Fort Bragg, North Carolina, an entire wall is covered with photographs of division commanders; Gavin is the only one wearing a helmet in his photo.
“I looked in this case and I noticed that General Gavin was an enlisted man before he came to West Point,” Stitt says. “So I went back to the lieutenant and said I’d give it a try. I wrote the essays [for admission] the week they were due. I did everything at the last minute.”
Stitt’s claim to fame as a cadet is an attempted “spirit mission” just before the Army-Navy football game the previous fall.
“Spirit mission” is a catchall description for almost any high-spirited,unorthodox activity that is designed to shake up the status quo; organizers of the most imaginative missions can taste a bit of fame. Douglas MacArthur, who was number-one man in his class of 1903, engineered the removal of the reveille cannon to the top
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