Twenty-five years later, writing from clear around the world, at
Manila, to his class, at a reunion, he gives a long, breezy account of
his experience there, from which we have space to quote only a few
sentences:
"This brings up a period of West Point life whose vivid impressions
will be the last to fade. Marching into camp, piling bedding, policing
company streets for logs or wood carelessly dropped by upper classmen,
pillow fights at tattoo with Marcus Miller, sabre drawn, marching up
and down superintending the plebe class, policing up feathers from the
general parade; light artillery drills, double-timing around old Fort
Clinton at morning squad drill; Wiley Bean and the sad fate of his
seersucker coat; midnight dragging, and the whole summer full of events
can only be mentioned in passing.
"No one can ever forget his first guard tour with all its preparation
and perspiration. I got along all right during the day, but at night
on the color line my troubles began. Of course, I was scared beyond
the point of properly applying any of my orders. A few minutes after
taps, ghosts of all sorts began to appear from all directions. I
selected a particularly bold one and challenged according to orders:
'Halt, who comes there?' At that the ghost stood still in its tracks.
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