When, however, the great gray buildings loom up as the day-line boat approaches the wharf, his buoyancy begins to ebb, his exhilaration cools under a mental Texas Norther, and the joy of anticipation so recently experienced receives a chill that causes him to gaze around uneasily and forlornly. He feels a little sad and melancholy. Thoughts of home sweep over him.
There is, however, about certain fellow passengers, lean lank youths like himself, something responsive, something about their hats, something about the unnatural droop of the shoulders, the new suitcases, the same fearful look that draws him to their side. “Are you a candidate, too?” he asks hopefully. An answer is unnecessary. Instinct again has won, and the flood-gates of friendship are unreservedly opened to the newly made companion about to enter the Land of Egypt and the House of Bondage. We are timid creatures all of us, and even the strongest suffer a twinge of timidity, a queer feeling in the seat of compassion, when about to penetrate the mystery surrounding an unknown life. At such a moment we all want to be little children, to have someone take us under shelter. We would like to run away from ugly, grim Reality that relentlessly blocks our way and with whom we must battle before we can go forward.
A sort of vague terror pervades the candidate as he climbs the hill from the station to the Adjutant’s office where he must report, but he grasps his suitcase and sets forth for the Headquarters Building where his directions tell him to report upon his arrival. If he is ahead of time he goes to the hotel where he finds a great many candidates, some of whom have been at the Point several days trying to absorb some impressions before reporting. Here friends are quickly made. On the day that they are all ordered to report, when they feel that they are about to bid farewell to their civilian freedom, they reluctantly set out for Headquarters. Unwilling though they may be to report, few ever in after life regret having entered the Academy.
The Rubicon once passed, however, no time is lost in the administrative routine of receiving the raw material. After reporting to the Adjutant, the new cadet is turned over to an orderly who directs him to the office of the Treasurer. No general officer in full uniform, one month later, could create in the candidate’s mind the same impression of the finished military product as does this first sight of a _simple soldat_ at the Treasurer’s. The new cadet is directed to deposit all the money that he has in his possession. Each new cadet is supposed to deposit one hundred and sixty dollars upon entrance to cover an initial cost of equipment, which amount is credited to the cadet’s account, together with any surplus change that he has at the time of admission. Although the Regulations require this initial deposit of one hundred and sixty dollars, the requirement is not absolutely obligatory, so that if any boy receives an appointment he should not be deterred from accepting on account of the financial stipulation. He should come at all events. The first equipment will be issued, and with economy he can later on wipe out the debt. If a boy’s parents are poor, it would be foolish for them to make a great effort to raise this money. Let the boy come and assume the responsibility of the debt, and let the onus of it rest upon his more youthful shoulders which will very soon broaden to bear it. One by one the men pass the little wicket window of the Treasurer and deposit all their money. Pockets are emptied of all cash and checks, which are credited to the cadet’s account. When eight, ten, or twelve candidates have been admitted, the young officer present forms them into a pseudo squad, or rather group, then calls an orderly of the Regular Army.
