West Point R Day: Part 2

Jean and I cried as Ann moved down the steps and crossed the floor of the stadium. Ann never looked back. Only a few new cadets did, and we speculated whether they would be the first dropouts. There are always a couple dropouts on the first day. At the middle of the field there was a cadet barking orders at the new cadets to move their one small bag to their left hand and keep their eyes straight ahead. Ann’s six weeks of Army basic training known as “Beast Barracks” had just begun. Jean and I didn’t turn to hug and console each other until Ann was completely out of sight. We didn’t want to waste what we feared might be our final seconds with Ann.

We could hear shouting coming from beneath the football stands across the stadium where Ann had disappeared. As we made our way to the car we caught a glimpse of new cadets being rushed onto yellow school buses. We wondered if that was Ann’s group, and squinted to see if we could catch one more glimpse of her from hundreds of yards away.

Jean and I spent the day wandering campus. West Point is a beautiful place when you are not handing over your first-born child to a life of known and unknown hardship. We attended a briefing about Beast Barracks given by the Superintendant. We also attended an organ recital mid-afternoon at the Cadet Chapel that sits on a bluff overlooking the campus. We stayed in the chapel long after the recital was over to pray, and hug, and cry some more.

Jean and I were spending the day on campus in hopes of catching one more glimpse of Ann during the Oath Ceremony at 5:30. There was no guarantee that we would see her, or that she would see us, but we wanted to try. There was supposed to be a parade of the new cadets down a road where we might be able to pick her out from the side of the road. Parents lined up on the road hours in advance of the ceremony. The threat of rain eventually cancelled the parade and rumors abounded amongst the parents where and when the Oath Ceremony would take place.

In the absence of any real information all of the parents were getting pretty frantic about the Oath Ceremony. All of the parents were asking each other if they knew anything, but all were clueless.

When masses of parents started streaming toward Eisenhower Hall we joined the stream. We were angry and frustrated to have spent an entire day hoping to see Ann one more time, and were now extremely anxious that our efforts would be thwarted.

When we got to the Eisenhower Hall Auditorium we found that most of the seats were reserved for the new cadets. The few rows in the back of the auditorium were filled and ushers would not allow us inside to stand in the back. We rushed upstairs to see if we could get in the balcony, but those doors were closed and guarded by cadets.

New rumors were passed around that seating would be permitted by lottery, and that many or most of us would not be seated. This jacked up the anxiety and anger of the parents even more. Eventually the balcony doors opened and the parents rushed in to grab a seat. Jean and I managed to get a spot sitting uncomfortably on the stairs along with many other parents.

We were hot, sticky, and tired from a long day in the summer sun. Our emotions had been jacked around from early in the morning till evening. As we sat on the balcony steps with perhaps fifty other parents who could not get seats, we were told that the fire marshal’s room capacity had been exceeded and that we could not sit in the aisles. Nobody moved and many parents snarled in anger. The officials wisely moved away.

After an extremely long wait, the new cadets came marching into the auditorium wearing rain ponchos. When the new cadets removed their ponchos we examined the back of every head in an attempt to identify Ann. Identification was impossible. This generated more frustration. There were several speeches that were of little interest to me, and finally the oath was taken.

I realized that the new cadets would likely march out the same side doors by which they had entered. I also had a guess that they would be returning to the barracks and that I might catch sight of Ann during that return march. Jean gave me permission to run ahead outside to catch the return march.

As the new cadets marched in formation past the Superintendant’s house toward the barracks I ran up and down the side of the road trying to find Ann. I did this with about 50 other parents who were on the same mission. The new cadets could not speak, and none dared to glance sideways. I did eventually find Ann in the center of the road and in the center of the column.

I knew that Ann could not speak, so I yelled out to her “I see you! I see you!” knowing she would recognize my voice. I dared not say her name as this might give her squad leader an extra excuse to persecute her. Ann did dare ever so briefly to cut her eyes in my direction with a stressed expression that said, “Dad, these people are absolutely CRAZY!” I ran ahead a few yards and yelled out, “You can do this. You can do this.” Then I’d run up another 20 yards and yell, “Yes you can. Yes you can.”, and so on down the road until she disappeared with the other cadets into the barracks area where we were not permitted.

Over the years we’d told Ann thousands of times that we loved her, but at that moment I wished we’d said it more.