North and South Trilogy by John Jakes Page A

hundred young men arrived each June but only forty to fifty of them graduated four years later. Orry and his new friend had a long way to go before they left the place as full-fledged members of the class of 1846.
    Admittance to West Point was highly regulated. The minimum age was sixteen, the maximum twenty-one. In any given year there could be enrolled but one cadet from each congressional district. An additional ten cadets held at-large appointments; these generally went to the sons of Army officers who had no fixed residence. There was also one presidential appointment from the District of Columbia.
    Scarcely forty years old, the institution had managed to overcome a good deal of opposition from Congress and the public. Its academic excellence was now generally acknowledged, both at home and in Europe, but a fine scholastic reputation wasn’t the same thing as public favor. The Academy continually fought charges that it was elitist, a school serving only the sons of the wealthy and well connected. During President Jackson’s administration, Congressman David Crockett of Tennessee had introduced a bill that would have dismantled West Point had it passed.
    Although the Academy had been established in 1802, it had received little attention or support from Congress or the Cabinet until after the War of 1812. During the war much of America’s military leadership had shown itself to be inept. As a consequence a new Academy superintendent had been appointed in 1817. Major Sylvanus Thayer had rapidly upgraded both the military and the academic curriculum. Since Thayer’s time West Point had graduated some outstanding officers. Orry had often heard his father mention Robert Lee of the Corps of Engineers. Lee had been a cadet in the late 1820s.
    The military skills of the graduates of the past few decades had never been demonstrated to a skeptical population, however. There had been no wars, and without war West Point’s claims about the worth of its program couldn’t be validated. That skepticism was fueled by the attitude of many of the cadets; few of them planned long Army careers. They sought appointments simply to take advantage of a fine educational opportunity. The present law required just four years of military service after graduation. On the steamer George had told Orry that he intended to serve that length of time, then return to civilian life. No wonder some people said it was a crime to spend public funds on young men who had no intention of repaying the debt with long service.
    From clear on the other side of the Plain came shouting. Orry and George quickly saw the source: cadets in uniform bawling orders in the dusty street that ran past the two stone barracks. Other young men in an assortment of civilian outfits stumbled into military formation in response to the hectoring. The haphazard way they lined up marked them as new arrivals.
    A drum rattled somewhere, the beats staccato, the pattern distinctive. Closer at hand, a cadet in a splendid uniform walked briskly toward them, bound for the hotel. George held up a hand to catch his attention.
    “Excuse me.”
    The cadet halted, standing rigid and fixing them with hard eyes “Did you address me, sir?” Rather than speaking, he bellowed.
    George managed to keep smiling. “That’s right. We’re looking for the—”
    “If you are a newcomer, sir,” the other screamed, “take off your hat, sir.” He whipped his eyes to Orry. “You also, sir. Always uncover when you address a superior, sir.” To George again. “Now, sir. What did you say to me, sir?”
    Intimidated by the shouting and all the sirs, George barely managed to ask directions to the adjutant’s office.
    “That way, sir. I will see you again, sir. Make no mistake about that, sir.”
    He marched on. George and Orry exchanged dismayed looks. It was their first introduction to the West Point style of address. Neither young man liked it.
    The adjutant’s clerk was another Irishman, but a