2. I dare to say on 13 May,
I was in my room there to stay.
But, “Von Ryan’s Express” was on at the flic,
So, in that room I could not stick.
The temptation was such an affliction,
And lo, I forgot my restriction.
The show was what one could expect,
And was over at 9:30 as I reflect.
On my way back to the barracks dim,
Some varmint stopped me before I went in.
And in her car we frolicked till midnight,
So this explains my present plight.
3. The offense was unintentional.
SUBJECT: Reconsideration of Awards, “Old Lady 02/26/65,” D/L 5 March 1965
TO: The Commandant of Cadets.
1. The report is believed to be in extreme doubt.
2. The question posed is now about (
Oh that one could ever doubt)
The sex of one so young and strong
A lad who stays away from wrong.
Twas on a morning bleak and cold
I started for classes with heart so bold
I fought the urge to head back to bed
By pulling my scarf over my head.
“Hey, Old Lady,” came the cry
And to one as virile as I
The verdict could only one way go
A strong, emphatic, definite No!
28 April 1965
SUBJECT: Reconsideration of Award: “No name tags in trousers turned into tailor shop 21 April,” D/L April 26.
TO: The Commandant of Cadets.
1. The report is believed to be incorrect.
2. The trousers in question were turned into the tailor shop with name tags sewn in their proper place. These name tags have been in the trousers since they were issued to me in my freshman and sophomore years. However, during the current school year my name has been legally changed; and when compared to the vast amounts of proverbial red tape which had to be processed in order that this fine institution be cognizant of the fact that I have remained one in the same person, the changing of the name on the name tags on the inside of the fly of my dress and full dress trousers seemed quite insignificant. When these trousers were placed in the custody of the tailor shop for summer storage and repair, it was brought to my attention that great difficulty would be encountered by the tailor shop staff and that the system used to process all the many thousands of garments would be reduced to utter chaos. Upon talking this problem over with the individuals immediately concerned, it was agreed that a simple and effortless solution was at hand. All that was necessary was for me to order at the cadet store a quantity of cloth name tags which when arrived would be brought to the tailor shop and the new name tags would replace the old. The name tags have been ordered and no more complications to this minor problem have occurred. At the present time there is a feeling of complete understanding and cooperation between the staff at the tailor shop and myself. I fully understand that in the military way of life there exists a system of rewards and punishments. I also understand that punishments are awarded to reprimand sub-standard performance and offenses against established rules and regulations. In this particular incident I fail to see any offense or performance which might be rated as being below par.
3. There is believed to be no offense.
22 April 1965
SUBJECT: Explanation of Report: “Abs 090 Accty 304 Test 9 April 1965,” D/L 21 April 1965.
TO: The Commandant of Cadets.
1. The report is correct.
2. Alas, General Patton had his troubles, and so do I,
But when I discovered my mistake, I was so embarrassed I could die.
A small military blunder for Patton is for me a colossal mistake.
Patton would simply dismiss it, but I have to shake and wait.
Out of the drudgery of everyday routine, I had my days mixed up and thought it was one day when indeed it was another.
I have sinned through thoughtless memory and I am now to be judged, so, I can only beg for mercy and ask you that in my situation,
“What would Patton have done?”
3. The offense was unintentional.
May 15, 1965
SUBJECT: Explanation of Reports: “Absent Steel Design 0900 26 April, Absent Concrete 1100 26 April,” D/L 10 May.
TO: The Commandant of Cadets.
1. The reports are correct.
2. For about three days previous to this, I had been having nightmares and was unable to sleep. On the morning of the offense I started having hallucinations while I was awake. Whenever I would sit down or lay down, I would start seeing things which I knew weren’t there. I went to class and while waiting for it to start, I kept having the same trouble. I had the feeling that I was going to start screaming and had a hard time controlling my temper with anyone who came near me. I left LeTellier Hall and walk around in the rain for several hours trying not to think about anything although I was fully conscious of the fact that I should have been in class and was going to be reported for not going.
3. The offenses were intentional.
SUBJECT: Explanation of Report: “Smoking on Campus Second Offense 8 December,” D/L 17 December.
TO: The Commandant of Cadets.
1. The report is correct.
2. As I was having a nicotine fit at the time, I did not wish to leave my cigarette behind in the messhall only half-finished, but at the same time my presence was required in a class which I had. Since my route back to barracks was an inconspicuous one, no outsider saw me smoking, which was in accordance with the reason the no-smoking rule was made. Incidentally, I field-stripped the cigarette and retained the paper so that it would not mar the truly striking beauty of our campus, which was in accordance with another reason for the no-smoking rule.
3. The offense was intentional.
19 October 1964
SUBJECT: Explanation of Report: “SMI Pet in Room 10 October,” D/L 19 October.
TO: The Commandant of Cadets.
1. The report is correct.
2. In the interest of and for the promotion of science,
a member of the;
Kingdom Animal
Phylum Chordata
Group Vertebrata
Subphulum Gnathostomata
Super Class Tetrapoda
Infraclass Eutheria
Order Carnivora
Suborder Fissipedia
Family Felidae
Genus Felis
Species domestica
commonly known as the domestic cat was invited to make her humble abode in room 2202 where she was discovered and “deported” immediately with the immediate consequence being an “H” on the D/L for the industrious, well-meaning scientist. The main purpose for the invitation was to make an intensive study of her external features with special emphasis centered upon the depression and contraction of her muscles. It was hoped by the scientist that this work would stand him in good stead when the external features of the cat were studied by him next semester in comparative anatomy.
3. The offense was intentional.
(handwritten by The Boo) Sad Too Bad Not The Fad 3/5
SUBJECT: Explanation of Circumstances: “Appearing at an unexpected hour, at an unauthorized dwelling, without written permission, or an oral invitation,” May 17, 1962.
TO: The Commandant of Cadets.
1. The report is correct.
2. Sir, it is with much respect and humble gratitude that I appear before you in this manner tonight. My story is a sad one, and it is written with tears in my eyes. The truth is, Sir, I am a poor, ugly orphan child with feet that resemble a chicken’s. For four long years I have lived here at The Citadel in shame and utter humiliation. For you see, Sir, I am what you might call an “ugly duckling” or a “gross slob.” The few dear friends that I once had, have all turned their backs on me. My parents disowned me when I was old enough to eat porridge with my fingers. With my personal appearance, ghoulish as
it is, to go along with my equally warped mind you can easily see that my chances in life are very, very slim indeed. So you see, Sir, I need someone to turn to. Since I needed someone to turn to but could not perceive of any one who could be so kind, my friends graciously decided to solve my grave problem. It is at this point that I will stop and offer thanks to you and your family for taking me into your humble dwelling. If I should cry in the middle of the night, don’t worry, don’t panic, just wash my skoady feet and feed me some warm milk and cookies. I don’t need to be burped.
3. The offense was most graciously intentional.
FORM CORRECT D.D.T. Ex. Off. /s/ Bobbie
ALIAS “THE TRACKER”
CADET SLOB 1st CLASS
O. G. NUMBER 3 BARRACKS
MIKE
Mike O‘Brien did not want to come to The Citadel in the first place. He hated the idea of going to a military college. He begged his parents to let him go somewhere else. But his father, a Marine Corps Colonel, thought the discipline and regimented life of The Citadel would be good for his troublesome son. Mike was a free spirit in high school and his father reasoned that the boy needed a period of confinement and control during his college days. In the fall of 1963, Mike entered Lesesne Gate. He entered Lesesne Gate bitterly. From his first day as a plebe, Mike fought the system with unwavering dedication.
He gained notoriety his very first week. In those days only seniors were allowed to walk across the hallowed turf of the parade ground. Mike was caught twice during plebe week sauntering across this forbidden land. In the same week one of his classmates bumped into him during a sweat party and Mike landed a right cross on his jaw. An angular platoon leader was giving Mike a little extra attention one night after mess and was slightly taken aback when Mike called him a “skinny little bastard.” Within two weeks, the name “O‘Brien” had won a permanent niche in campus conversation. O‘Brien stories enlivened bull sessions during evening study period. Seniors from three battalions traveled down to Bravo Company to catch a glimpse of the foolhardy knob who defied the system with such disregard for his own personal comfort. “B” Company upper-classmen devised every torture known to man trying to break O‘Brien’s spirit. They put him “on the wall” for hours at a time. They stuffed him into a steel locker and blew cigarette smoke into the vents. They made him do pushups until he dropped from exhaustion. They humiliated him at mess, starved him at mess, and refused to acknowledge his presence at mess. They screamed obscenities at him; they appealed to his pride and masculinity. They did all these things, but they never broke O‘Brien. They never cracked the veneer of his hostility and bitterness. He fought The Citadel with every waking breath and with all the resources available to him. No matter how much pressure the upperclassmen exerted against him, nothing seemed to phase O‘Brien. When the battalion commander tried to have a serious, man-to-man talk with him, O‘Brien laughed in his face. The shocked battalion commander, who was accustomed to being treated like an anthropomorphic god by freshmen, decided to present the case of O‘Brien to the Commandant’s Department and The Boo.
The Boo gave O‘Brien an order for failure to follow verbal commands. On the first day of tour formation The Boo went up to O‘Brien and congratulated him heartily for being the first member of his class to walk tours. This was akin to being congratulated for being the first to contact whooping cough. The Boo then asked O‘Brien what exactly was eating him, why he could not adapt to the system, and why he had gained such widespread notoriety in a brief two weeks. O‘Brien listened to The Boo stoically. He said “Yes, Sir” in the proper places. He was neither disrespectful nor obsequious. But after a five minute conversation, The Boo knew intuitively that O‘Brien was trying his damndest to separate himself from the Corps of Cadets.
The Boo moved him to Fourth Battalion in an effort to save him. Had O‘Brien been a typical knob, this strategy might have been effective. But O‘Brien was a super-knob whose reputation traveled before him, spreading the word of his spurious deeds and exploits before his arrival. When he entered Fourth Battalion, he was a marked man. He was given no chance. The Corps had marked O‘Brien for execution. In the harsh law of the Corps, the freshman who completely rebelled against the system was driven out of The Citadel by any means necessary. The hazing of this marked freshman grew more and more severe until the freshman neared the breaking point. He was given individual attention by packs of sergeants and corporals who surrounded him, shouted in his ear, abused him physically and verbally, and terrified him into leaving the school. The Citadel can be a vicious world. What I have described will not be understood by those men who graduated from The Citadel at an earlier period. The Citadel was more refined then. The hazing was not brutal. But after the second world war, a theory circulated around the military men of the college that the tougher the environment, the more resilient and more durable the leader produced. So graduates who sent their sons to The Citadel after the war never fully understood why their sons could not accept a system they had found to be so stimulating to their young manhood. In the early 1960’s, the plebe system was a kind of inquisition. When O‘Brien came along, General Tucker was effecting changes in the fourth class system which were resented bitterly by the Corps. The changes came too late to make any substantial difference in the fate of Mike O‘Brien. O‘Brien faced daily harassment by red-faced squad leaders. They stepped on his formation shoes (which is worse than having someone step on your mother’s face if you are a freshman). They tried to get his classmates to give him the cold shoulder. Through all of this, O‘Brien remained as passive as a cigar store Indian. He arrived at The Citadel physically hard. As time passed, he became harder.
The upperclassmen stuck O‘Brien with over fifty demerits the first month of school. He served confinements until, as he put it, “his ass was one big callous.” Tour formation always found him with a rifle slung carelessly over his shoulder. Seniors would stop him on his way to class to rack him for some real or imagined offense. The pressure was so intense and his reputation among the Corps so malignant that O‘Brien soon had nothing to lose. On one famous occasion, when the upperclassmen pulled a crackdown on the knobs, and all the fury of sergeantdom was released on the heads of the freshmen, several people choked back thoughts of homicide when someone noticed O‘Brien laughing in the middle of the sweat party. One sergeant pulled O‘Brien out of the shower room and stood him up against the wall. By this time, O‘Brien was laughing hysterically. The upperclassmen momentarily forgot about their party. They sent all the other freshmen to their rooms. O‘Brien quit bracing suddenly, tilted his cap over his nose in a rakish angle, leaned against the wall, and lit up a cigarette. The upperclassmen stood aghast, too mad to speak, too surprised to respond in a legitimate manner. O‘Brien smoked his cigarette slowly and thoughtfully. Then he looked at a platoon sergeant—an emaciated, spindly platoon sergeant—and said, “Smith, you are so ugly. I bet you never had a date in your life. Look at your body, Smith. My god, son, you have the worst body I have ever seen in my life.” O‘Brien took another drag on his cigarette. He then turned to another sergeant and said, “McMillan, you are big crap around this school, but you would be nothing in any other school in the country. Wouldn’t that be a damn joke. McMillan in a fraternity.” O‘Brien did fairly well in his denunciation of the powers above him, until he called the company commander a “fat pig.” Then the rulers of Fourth Battalion closed their broken ranks and swarmed all over O‘Brien once again. Yet it was one of O‘Brien’s finer moments as a cadet.
From the initial moment he walked on to The Citadel’s campus, O‘Brien’s one purpose in life was to leave Lesesne Gate as quickly as possible. Demerits piled up on him like ants on a dead grasshopper. The Boo looked at scores of white slips on O‘Brien every day. The Boo and the rest of the Commandant’s Department knew that O‘Brien’s days within the Corps were numbered. When The Boo talked to O‘Brien, the boy stated that he despised the school, but his father refused to let him leave. Finally in sheer desperation
, O‘Brien walked out of his room on a Saturday when he was supposed to be serving confinements. The guard tried to stop him, but O‘Brien said he was going to watch a tennis match. The guard pulled him for skipping confinements. When O‘Brien had to write an ERW explaining his actions, he stated that he was in his room and had served all confinements that day. Seventy cadets saw him at the tennis match. O‘Brien won his freedom from The Citadel by committing an intentional honor violation.
The man who stormed into Courvoisie’s office the day of O‘Brien’s resignation was a tall, handsome soldier. He was square-shouldered, well-proportioned, and angry as hell. A silver star hung from his blouse. Colonel O‘Brien foamed in repressed anger.
“My name is O‘Brien,” the Colonel said.
“Courvoisie, Sir,” The Boo replied.
“Why does my son have to resign. He’s made it this far. Why don’t you let him finish the year?”
“Colonel, your son has been in trouble all year long. He’s been trying to leave The Citadel ever since he got here.”
“Well, why wasn’t my wife or I notified about it. We thought Mike was doing well up here.”
Colonel Courvoisie challenged. “I have personally sent four letters stating that your son had exceeded the limit of demerits, and asking that you encourage your son to shape up, so he could remain at The Citadel.”
“You never sent those letters to my house,” Colonel O‘Brien replied angrily.
Colonel Courvoisie asked Mrs. Petit to bring in the file on Mike O‘Brien. In the file were four letters concerning excess demerits and three letters concerning punishment orders. Colonel O‘Brien looked at the letters and mumbled something about the wife “always taking the boy’s side.”
Courvoisie told Colonel O‘Brien that The Citadel is not the right school for every boy. Mike O‘Brien left The Citadel that day without a single regret and without looking back.
THE BALLAD OF LARRY LATINI
Of all the great, muscled jocks who ripple their way southward to wage battle on The Citadel gridiron, none has inspired the number of legends or neared the proportions of an epic hero as Larry Latini. Larry looked like an uprooted oak tree. His muscles were like the knots of a dock rope and his temper was quick and volcanic. Upperclassmen knew instinctively that the Italian boy who stood before them on plebe night could break a human head like a ripe cantaloupe, so they treated him gingerly on that night and all the other nights of his freshman year. One thing almost everyone agreed on the instant he came in sight; Larry was a man.