Last in Their Class. James Robbins

where another cadet, posing as a barber, would proceed to give them a most uneven and unattractive cut.⁸ Cadet Jesse Valentine from North Carolina was the victim of an elaborate haze authored by Henry Heth, who pretended to borrow Valentine’s civilian clothes to facilitate a visit to Benny Havens’. The two were “discovered,” placed under arrest, and taken to the hot, musty cockloft of the old North Barracks, a windowless gathering spot unknown to the Tacs, for immediate court martial. A cadet sat as president of the body at the head of a long table, with twelve others wearing blue furlough coats, sashes and plumed hats arrayed about him. A long list of invented charges was read, the prosecution and defense made speeches, and Cadet Valentine nervously pleaded his case. The prisoner was removed to the passage while the court deliberated; he was called back in and the sentence was read: “Plebe Valentine, the court, after mature deliberation, have pronounced in your case the following sentence: that you be taken tomorrow morning to the statue of the great and glorious Washington, and at sunrise precisely you be shot to death with musketry, and may God have mercy on your soul.” The blood drained from Valentine’s face; outside the room he collapsed to his knees, bemoaning his foul fate. Presently he was called back into the court and told that he had been given a reprieve. He was sentenced instead to stand all night with his head in a mortar. The next morning an officer came upon the curious site, and when he heard Valentine’s story he told the plebe that he had been the victim of a prank.⁹

      Not every plebe was as ingenuous as Cadet Valentine. In another case, some upperclassmen feigned offense at a plebe’s behavior and arranged for a duel. They met just after reveille, and the plebe was given his choice of loaded muskets. The duelists marched fifteen paces, turned and fired. The upperclassman fell and lay still. The seconds and spectators stood by mournfully; but the plebe began to reload his musket.

      “What are you doing plebe?” one of the upperclassmen said. “Don’t you see you have killed your man?”

      “Well,” the plebe responded, “if he is dead, a little more killing won’t do him any hurts.” The “dead man” jumped up and the assembled apologized to the plebe.¹⁰

      William Gardner explained, “With us [hazing] was rough horse play and fun, and the cadet who showed himself to be equipped with a powerful pair of fists and a strong disposition to use them on provocation was usually exempt from annoyance. Any such brutal violence as is not uncommon nowadays would in my time have been checked summarily by the student himself, with a bayonet thrust, knife stab or pistol shot.” He was not engaging in hyperbole. In the summer of 1844, Heth and some companions were deviling a plebe on sentinel duty, who became so enraged he threw his musket, bayonet first, at his tormentors. The weapon struck Heth in the thigh, narrowly missing his femoral artery, the point emerging from the other side. “I fell as though I had been shot by a cannon ball,” he wrote.¹¹ The wound put Heth in the hospital for weeks. The plebe in question was punished severely—not for wounding Cadet Heth, but for parting with his weapon.

      There were occasional personal disputes, which could lead to violence. One such altercation involved Derby and Cadet William Logan Crittenden, a member of the famous Crittenden clan, who came to West Point from Kentucky in 1839. He was the son of Henry C. Crittenden, who had been murdered by a noted desperado of the time named John A. Waring. Henry’s brother was John Jordan Crittenden, an 1812 war vet who served as governor, U.S. attorney general, congressman and senator. It was in the latter capacity that he formulated the “Crittenden Compromise,” a failed last-minute attempt to stave off the Civil War. John’s sons served on both sides in that conflict—George Bibb Crittenden (USMA 1832) was a Confederate general who resigned his commission in 1862 after his forces were badly mauled at the Battle of Mills Springs. His brother Thomas Leonidas Crittenden rose to the rank of major general in the Union army. Their cousin Alexander Parker Crittenden graduated from West Point in 1836; he soon resigned his commission and later became a politician and lawyer in San Francisco. He was gunned down by his mistress Laura Fair in 1870, and her highly publicized trial featured a pioneering defense linking the insanity plea to the menstrual cycle.¹²

      William Logan Crittenden was a mediocre student—he entered with the Class of 1843 but was turned back twice, graduating as the Goat of 1845. His disciplinary record was not remarkably poor, but the incident with Derby almost led to his expulsion. One Sunday morning in 1844, Derby was returning to North Barracks after church when he passed Crittenden, who was a cadet lieutenant. The two were not on good terms, and they caught each other’s glance.

      “What do you mean, sir?” Crittenden demanded.

      “Mean by what, sir?”

      “By looking at me, sir.”

      “Do you consider yourself too good to be looked at, sir?” Derby said.

      “Yes sir, I do,” Crittenden said, “and if you give me any more of your words, God damn you, I’ll run you through.” Crittenden placed his hand meaningfully on the pommel of the sword on his belt. Derby, smaller, lighter, but with nerve, was not intimidated.

      “You must be a miserable coward,” he snapped, “to threaten an unarmed man with a sword.” Crittenden did not hesitate. He drew his weapon and slashed three times at Derby, cutting his chin and throat, right arm and shoulder. Derby was put in the hospital for three weeks. Crittenden was placed under arrest, and Superintendent Delafield recommended dismissal to Secretary of War William Wilkins, but the request was not approved—political connections, Derby reasoned. Instead, the Superintendent restricted Crittenden to West Point, reduced him to the ranks, and relieved him of his sword and chevrons.¹³ All things considered, he got off easy.

      Crittenden later had a dispute with Cadet Winfield Scott Hancock, which they resolved to settle by fisticuffs. But Crittenden was so much larger than Hancock that the fight was deemed unfair, so by mutual agreement his place was taken by Cadet Alexander Hays. The resulting contest was said to have lasted three hours and been given to Hays on a decision. The authorities never found out about it and no one was punished.¹⁴

      “Benny Havens’, Oh!”

      THE CADET’S LIFE WAS STILL regimented, moving cyclically day in and out to the beat of a drum. They marched to and from mess, had parade every afternoon, and manned regular tours of sentry duty. The only officially sanctioned variation in the schedule came when it rained and drill was canceled. Tidball called rain “a veritable Godsend—a positive intervention of Divine Providence in behalf of cadets.” Free time was limited and closely proscribed, at least officially. Cards and other games were still prohibited.¹⁵ The Dialectic Society debated, and hunting, fishing, hiking and swimming were permitted. Hiking was a popular escape; cadets were allowed to fish in the river or in the nearby mountaintop lakes, and a tradition grew of leaving a stone on the cairn at the top of the prominent peak north of the Academy called the Crow’s Nest.

      Smoking had been forbidden at the Academy since 1823, and the smell of tobacco in a room would quickly lead to demerits and extra guard tours on the weekend. But banning smoking only increased the desire of cadets to get away with it. Cadet Grant, later famous for his cigar habit, noted that “the fact that tobacco in every form was prohibited, and the mere possession of the weed punished, made the majority of the cadets . . . try to acquire the habit of using it.”¹⁶ Cadets would make bargains with tobacco traders in New York to buy cigars and pipe tobacco on credit and pay after graduation when they were given the balance of their accounts. “The very recklessness of it was captivating,” Tidball wrote.¹⁷ Some were more reckless than others—George Pickett received eight demerits one fall day for “highly unsoldierlike conduct walking around parade ground smoking tobacco improperly dressed.”¹⁸

      Alcohol and the means of obtaining it still commanded a great deal of cadet energies. DeRussy had loosened the drinking regulations, but Delafield cracked down on alcohol. He opened a “soda shop” at the Academy as a conciliatory gesture, meant to give cadets an alternative to the mess for some treats and hopefully forestall them looking elsewhere. For those who chose to “run it” in search of harder stuff, Bum Owens was still on hand to bedevil them.¹⁹

      Benny Havens’ remained very much part of the West Point experience, but by the 1840s