Arrival at West Point →

The sixth of July in 1954 was the beginning of the rest of my life—a day I had dreamed about for many years. I had been 18 years old for two weeks.

Columbian Prep Program (1st row, far right: Jack)

Gainesville Sun, 1954.

To New York City, I took the midnight Eastern Airlines flight from Jacksonville to LaGuardia. I was dressed in my best suit and tie with new black lace-up shoes shined to the best of my ability (but would be considered unsatisfactory before the day was over.)

Good fortune smiled on me, and another Cadet-to-be was on the flight. He was a knowledgeable Yankee and greatly helped our trip from the airport to the Port Authority Bus Terminal. LaGuardia at that time was covered with Quonset huts and little permanent infrastructure. Landing in the early morning, we walked across the runway to a bus stop and were soon enroute to the west side of Manhattan. After a sleepless night, I was a bit groggy, but excited, nonetheless.

We arrived at the U.S. Military Academy at West Point, where our busload of new cadets was dropped off at Grant Hall. There was no greeting band, and no parents or friends to see us off. Through a setup of sally port tables, we checked in by name. The name-checker neither smiled nor greeted us. I was weighed in at 134 pounds and 5 feet 6.25 inches tall. We tied a checklist and name tag to our trouser belt loops and were led away by a senior Cadet, immaculately dressed in a tailored gray high-collared tunic over white trousers with shoes as polished as a mirror. There were neither words of welcome nor smiles. West Point and “Beast Barracks” were deadly serious. My adventure had begun!

Later in the afternoon, we attended the Swearing-In Ceremony.

I was sworn in as "an Officer and a Gentleman," a designation approved by an Act of Congress and by name—May, J.C.

This first day in the long gray line was the beginning of a boyhood dream fulfilled, but none was prouder that I had become a certified "gentleman" than my mother. She had encouraged me toward West Point and coached me to become a gentleman and part of the “gentry” from the beginning. It was heartening for her to have her efforts recognized and ratified by an Act of Congress!

That first summer as a Cadet was excruciating and extremely challenging. Officially, we first-year Cadets were Plebes, assigned to New Cadet Barracks. Unofficially, in cadet parlance, we were "Beasts.” Our barracks was "Beast Barracks" for good reason.

The program was designed to weed out early those who lacked determination and dedication to succeed as Cadets. The first eight weeks was the most strenuous and intensified period of training that we would encounter.

We had little to eat, but we burned a huge number of calories. We ran everywhere we went. Sleep was minimal. Rest and personal time were nonexistent. We did not gaze around. Harassment was non-stop. Our postures were constantly corrected. Our belt buckles and shoes had to be perfectly shined. At meals, we were required to sit on the front four inches of our chairs and look only at our plates. 

For showers in the evening, we lined up in robes and slippers, eyes straight ahead, soap dishes and towels held just so. The showers, called "sinks," were in the basement of the four-story barracks. As a Plebe's turn for the shower was announced, he was told, "One minute in the shower." A tired, exhausted boy had to turn on and adjust the water, soap up and rinse off. At exactly one minute, the senior Cadet in charge would reach in and turn off the water. Many plebes left the shower still soaped up and dirty, but only the first time. We learned quickly—or became civilians! 

We were always under observation, even at night when we might have an unannounced visit to see if we were sleeping in the issued pajamas.

We were drilled in the West Point and Army honor system: A Cadet will not lie, cheat or steal. Our word was our honor, then and forever more. The smallest transgression was unforgivable. Immediate expulsion was automatic and irrevocable.

Occasionally, we were told to recite Plebe Knowledge, better known as "Plebe Poop." The list of required knowledge seemed endless. Plebes were usually addressed as "Mister." For example, "Mister May, give me the definition of leather." Other cadets and I would recite the answer we had memorized:

Sir, if the fresh skin of an animal, cleaned and divested of all hair, fat and other extraneous matter, be immersed in a dilute solution of tannic acid, a chemical combination ensues; the gelatinous tissue of the skin is converted into a non-putrescible substance, impervious to and insoluble in water; this, Sir, is leather.

All this was in keeping with the Mission of the Military Academy:  "To instill discipline and a high sense of honor." As we said as Cadets, “In order to make steel, you must melt iron.”

From that first day, we received pay at half the rate of the lowest-ranking officer in the military, a Second Lieutenant. At that time, it was about $90 per month but increased by the fall to $110.15. From this, I paid for only a few things. My tailored uniforms were by far the largest expense; there were scores of Italian tailors living at USMA and working indirectly for the government. I also paid for incidentals, such as ice cream, personal items and textbooks.

 At the end of the brutal summer, we survivors were assigned to our regular companies (military units) and officially joined the Corps of Cadets, where we would spend the rest of our time at USMA. Companies were somewhat akin to fraternities without the parties. Camaraderie among classes was minimal. Plebes were friends with other Plebes, addressed by only their last names by upperclassmen.

About 25 Plebes, Class of 1958, were assigned to Company B-2 with me. Because marching units look best if all soldiers are the same height and for other competitive reasons, assignments were made based on height. I noticed over the years that shorter Cadets ("runts") and taller ones ("flankers") differed not only in height but also in personality. My company cohort, standing at about 5 feet 8 inches, was next-to-shortest in the Corps.

Many great men had traveled this same road. They had passed through the initial hard and narrow path before graduation. They stood at attention with their chins pulled in and chest puffed out. Eisenhower had recited the definition of leather. Now, I had to do the same and so much more.

Jack with a proud Mother on a later visit to USMA.

I am immensely proud to be a West Pointer and for having a very successful, if short, career in the U.S. Army.