He was a martinet as to
discipline, and Charles, who had become accustomed to doing a good deal
of thinking for himself, came into frequent clashes with him.
One day, the old man said, "Gordon, I am tired of fooling with you.
You are incompetent; you will never make an officer."
The young cadet, a boy of sixteen, gave him look for look, without
quailing--then by way of reply tore his epaulettes from his shoulders,
turned on his heel, and strode out of the room.
Naturally, the guardhouse was next in order, where the culprit could
cool his heels and meditate upon the sinfulness of superior officers.
In this particular case he seems to have blamed it upon the missing
leg, for he remarked, long afterwards: "Never employ any one minus a
limb to be in authority over boys. They are apt to be irritable and
unjust."
He remained in the Military Academy four years, having been put back
six months by way of discipline, and left it without any regrets. At
this time, indeed, he had a positive distaste for the army. It was all
drill and monotony. One day was too much like another. What was the
good of it all? Why did men have to learn to kill each other anyhow?
Were we not put on earth for a higher mission?
Thus reasoned the young man, who, all his life, was subject to moods of
introspection and intense religious thought--surely strange material
out of which to build a soldier! He sensed this fact himself and was
not at all anxious to enter the army; and frequently in later life
expressed a lively dissatisfaction for the service.
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