A Cadet's Honor: Mark Mallory's Heroism

The whole class came to the meeting. There hadn't been such an important meeting at West Point for many a day. The yearling class had been outrageously insulted. The mightiest traditions of the academy had been violated, "trampled beneath the dust," and that by two or three vile and uncivilized "beasts"—"plebes"—new cadets of scarcely a week's experience. And the third class, the yearlings, by inherent right the guardians of West Point's honor, and the hazers of the plebe, had vowed that those plebes must be punished as never had plebes been punished before.


The first and third classes of cadets had gone into summer camp the previous day, immediately after the graduation exercises. From that date, the middle of June to July 1, they have a comparative holiday, with no drills and no duties except guard-mounting, dress parade toward evening, and inspections. And it was during the first of the holiday mornings that the above-mentioned "meeting" was held, beneath the shady trees of Trophy Point, a short distance from the camp.


"I move," shouted a voice in the crowd, "that we elect Bud Smith chairman."


The motion was carried with a shout, and Bud Smith, just out of hospital by the way, was "boosted" up onto one of the guns, which served as the "chair." Bud Smith was a tall, heavily-built youth with a face covered by court-plaster and "contusions," as the results of a West Point fight are officially designated by the hospital surgeon.