West Point, however, is indebted to these social beings for the touch of romance and glamour that they give to the summer life. Their bright uniforms and the gay dresses of their partners (and the still gayer parasols) are seen everywhere on Flirtation Walk, on the balcony back of Cullum Hall, on the Plain, and chiefly at the visitors’ seats, and their youth and enthusiasm add a distinct charm to the social life.
But the real amusements and pleasures of summer camp come after supper. Thrice weekly small hops are held from eight to ten o’clock and on the other three nights open-air concerts are given by the band.
The hops are the most popular and enjoyed of all the pleasures. The Yearlings have an opportunity of showing how much they profited by their dancing lessons of the previous summer and they flock to Cullum Hall in droves. On hop nights the camp is practically deserted. Some few men who do not care for dancing, and another small group who pose as women haters, remain in the limits visiting one another or reading. The new plebes, of course, are in their tents, silently working upon their equipment. Commencing at seven-thirty, however, a stream of upper-classmen begins passing the guard tents, signing out for the hop, bound first for the hotel or for some officers’ quarters where charming young partners await them. As soon as darkness falls the couples set forth for the dance. As they emerge out of the obscurity of the Plain into the brilliant light that pours out of the main entrance of the hall they appear for all the world like a lot of summer insects drawn to a bright electric bulb.
It is a charming picture that the cadets in their uniforms and the girls in their pretty dresses make as they gather in Cullum Hall for the dances. It recalls all of the stories of beauty and chivalry that poets have so often idealized. As I watch them today, their youth tempts my imagination and it runs away, but as a matter of truth the reality is not quite so ideal.
The cadets, even the most imaginative, see things more clearly and recognize that some of the girls that come to the hops were not the subject of the poet’s thought when he wrote his odes to beauty. There are all sorts of girls. There are young girls, and some not so young; pretty girls and homely ones; vivacious girls and inanimate ones; intelligent girls and dull ones; and occasionally some few attend the dances who are so little favored with feminine charms that for years the cadets have called them “L. P.’s.” These damsels are usually the friends of friends, or maybe, the friends of friends of friends--very distant as you see, and the poor cadet is called upon to pay off his friend’s social debt. He does it well, too, for the dances are all by card so that every girl has her partners arranged beforehand, and she leaves the ball having experienced the intoxication of a great belle.