1Author's Note: Fear is the energy to do your best in a new situation. The feeling of fear (anxiety, nervousness, shyness, or any of its other aliases) is really "preparation energy". It's getting you ready to excel, to succeed, to do your best and to learn the most.– Peter McWilliams
Disclaimer: This story is a work of fanfiction, based on characters and situations not owned by me. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
The officer's ward of the 7th General Hospital had transformed itself into a kind of pseudo-Beast Barracks in which half a dozen former Firsties focused their attention on only a single injured aspiring cadet.
"What is the significance of the Cadet Colors?" Captain Jonas, West Point Graduate, Class of 1934, currently recovering from a gunshot wound to the right shoulder, asked crisply.
Lt. Thomas' eyelashes swept down for a moment while he thought back to what he'd read, then returned to the upright position as he replied, just as crisply, "The components of gun powder are charcoal, saltpeter, and sulfur, which are black, gray, and gold in color."
The follow-up question came immediately, but from 1st Lt. Anderson, West Point Graduate, Class of 1941, lying two cots away with a shrapnel wound in his left leg. "And what is the chemical name of saltpeter?"
"Potassium nitrate."
More chemistry questions, physics, electronics (his former life as a radio salesman and repairman stood him in good stead), history, and tactics.
Correct answers brought no praise. Incorrect ones were greeted with the exclamation, "WRONG!" and a brief lecture on the question at hand, which he was then required to repeat.
Some of the questions were sensible, others were not, but many of the answers were contained in the 'cadet bible' Col. Howe had lent him, so memorization was clearly the key to this endeavor.
"How many lights in Cullum Hall?"
"Three hundred forty."
The answer was once again correct, but it may as well have been wrong from the sharpness of the succeeding rebuke: "Is that the way you stand at attention? Suck in that gut, new cadet Thomas."
New Cadet Thomas, lying prone on his cot, laughed.
"Is something funny, Mister?" 2nd Lt. Lee, West Point Graduate, Class of 1943, was practically spitting his anger and disapproval. When Lee was yelling at a new cadet, the man should NOT laugh in response.
He had to be joking. "How can I suck in my belly when I'm lying on it?" Thomas wondered in amusement, addressing his pillow as much as his fellow officer.
"You'll suck it in when I tell you to suck it in!"
The nurse on duty considered telling the officers to calm down, but decided against it. Little Lt. Thomas seemed in no real distress, and 'tutoring' him, as they called it, had turned out to be more or less a God-send in taking the officers' minds off their troubles… at least the ones who'd attended the United States Military Academy at West Point.
Major Annandale, West Point Graduate, Class of 1937, under cover of his fellow alumnus' shouting about their pledge's lack of seriousness, whispered, "You're not playing the game, Lieutenant. Play the game."
"The game?" Thomas whispered back to the older man.
"That's all it is after all. Say what I say, do what I do, know what I know. Like Simon Says, from back in grade school."
Thomas' mind flashed on scenes from his school days that had not been a game. You don't belong in school, you belong in the fields.
The aggression with which he'd met that long ago challenge made him grumble, "It's stupid." It had been. He'd been there to learn like anyone else, no matter how long or short his britches were. At least they'd been clean.
Lee, realizing his superior officer had been speaking, fell silent, allowing Major Annandale's reposte to be heard by the whole ward.
"If you think it's stupid, then quit," Annandale advised him, coldly.
Thomas thought about apologizing, but what could he say? I was thinking about something else, while you were speaking to me? Sure, that'd go over real well.
Unbidden, a response straight out of the Bugle Notes' Soldier's Creed rose into Thomas' mind, and fell from his lips in a voice the Texan scarcely recognized himself.
"I will never quit," he said solemnly, knowing, perhaps for the first time, that it was true. "I will never accept defeat."
"Good," Annandale said, while the others, even Lt. Lee, smiled their satisfaction.
