Norwich: My First Year
Prologue
The Corps of Cadets Explained
Founded by Alden Partridge in Norwich, Vermont, in
1819, Norwich University currently lies
in Northfield, directly in the center of the state of Vermont. Norwich is the oldest
private military college in the country. The only military academy older than
Norwich is West Point, founded in 1802. Captain Alden Partridge was a former Superintendent and a graduate of the U.S. Military Academy. He believed in a more citizen-soldiery and was relieved from his duties in West Point
because of his ideas, considered radical at the time. The Norwich Corps of Cadets
is arranged into a single regiment.
The regiment is organized into 4 battalions, 1st Battalion, 2nd Battalion, 3rd Battalion,
and Provisional Battalion. The battalions are then broken down into companies. In all there are 15 companies, Alpha through Kilo (or A through K with the exception
of J), Cavalry Troop, Band Company, Artillery and Battery, Drill Team, and Headquarters Company. From the companies, there are two platoons, 1st Platoon and 2nd
Platoon. The platoons are broken down into three squads, with two fire teams
in each squad.
All cadet officers
in the Corps are seniors, all sergeants are juniors, all corporals are sophomores, and freshmen are recruits and privates. The regimental commander is the highest ranking cadet in the Corps. He or she is given the rank of CDT/COLONEL (COL). Each Battalion
Commander, the Regimental Executive Officer (XO), the Regimental Inspector General (IG), and the Corps Honor Committee Chairman
are each given the rank of CDT/LT. COLONEL (LT COL). The highest non-commissioned officer in the Corps is the Regimental Command Sergeant
Major (RCSM). It was the year I was a freshman that they made that position a
senior position. Each battalion has a command sergeant major as well. The role of the battalion CSM is basically to take charge of all the other non-commissioned officers (NCOs)
in the battalion, and to oversee the recruit training. The CSM is the person
the recruit is most afraid of. Every recruit is required to greet every CSM by
name and rank every time they pass one. The Corps of Cadets basically picks the
most intimidating cadets to be a CSM because they want the freshmen to be afraid of them.
Nobody wants to screw up in front of a CSM, hence being yelled at by someone that could be mistaken for a tank.
Each company commander is given the rank of CDT/CAPTAIN (CPT). He or she
is in charge of their respective company. Each company has a CDT/1ST
SERGEANT (1SGT) who has the noncommissioned officers in the company under their charge.
A platoon commander is a CDT/LIEUTENANT (LT) and oversees their platoon with a CDT/ SERGEANT FIRST CLASS (SFC), or
Platoon Sergeant. The squad leaders are CDT/ STAFF SERGEANTS (SSGT), and fire
team leaders are the sophomores. Every sophomore, no matter what duty they have,
is a CDT/CORPORAL (CPL).
As mentioned, each company has two platoons. 1st Platoon is
an upperclassmen platoon. An “upperclassman” would be a sophomore
or above. No recruits or freshmen would be in 1st Platoon. The freshmen platoon is 2nd Platoon. An average
of 26 recruits would be in a platoon to start. The NCOs in the platoon are referred
to as cadre. They are the ones who train the freshmen. In layman’s terms they are Drill Instructors, with the Platoon Sergeant as the Drill Sergeant.
You may have noticed that throughout the preface I have referred to a rank as “CDT/RANK,” putting “CDT”
in front of the rank. I have done this because a rank in the Norwich Corps of
Cadets is not the same as the rank in the U.S. Military. I assure you that a
real Command Sergeant Major in the U.S. Army is a rank that is much more difficult and takes many more years to get. As far as officers go, in Norwich they would be saluted
and greeted like a real officer, but outside of Norwich they
are nothing but Cadets and should not be saluted by an enlisted soldier. However,
Norwich does have cadets who are members of the Army National
Guard, Air National Guard, and in the Marine Corps. Therefore, someone may be
a Private or a Private First Class in the Army National Guard, but in the Norwich Corps of Cadets they are a Corporal like
any other sophomore.
“You Are About to Embark on a Great Journey”
21 August 2004
As we drove from the hotel to Norwich, I kept reminding
myself how long I’ve been waiting to be a part of a great military tradition.
With the amount of books I’ve read, war movies I’ve seen, and the stories I’ve heard from family
who had gone through West Point or had been in the military, I knew this is what I wanted
to do. I spent all summer doing the best I can to prepare physically for Norwich, running and lifting weights daily. I still couldn’t help wondering if it was enough, though. The
people who go to these kinds of schools are football captains and track and field stars.
I played football in high school but I was no captain or All-State player, and I sure was no track star, even though
I ran on the team for a year. Looking out through my window, I saw the mountains
of Vermont, noting how much steeper and taller they were compared to the mountains in the
Hudson Valley
that I’ve been running through all summer.
As much as I was unsure about my physical fitness state, I was sure that I wouldn’t let anything bother me. I read enough books about military schools to know that failure, at least on a small
level, was inevitable. It’s not ok to fail, but if you do, learn from your
mistakes.
In general, I
was really confident going into Norwich. I knew I did the best I could to prepare. Going in with a
sense of humor and a sense of confidence is the best thing you can do for preparing something like this. If you go in all serious, saying to yourself, “What was I thinking?” there is no way you can
do well in a high-stress, fast-paced learning environment like Norwich. You might as well turn the car around and go back home, like some did on the first
day.
We pulled the car onto the UP (Upper Parade Ground) and got out in front of Ransom Hall. I walked through the center doors, something I would never do again at least for eight months, and saw
two cadets, one female and one male sitting at a table filled with white name tags and little brown envelopes which held room
keys, in perfect order. The male Cadet was tall and skinny, with ribbons and
all sorts of decorations on his uniform. He gave me a look like he was about
to slit my throat. The female Cadet had regalia and a sword, and started giving
me directions: “These are your keys to your room and to the outside of the barracks.
Following this you will go to your room where you will find a maroon-colored “Rook Book” and a pen and
notebook. You will put them in your rear right pocket. Your white name tag you will put on to your right chest. After
you have put your personal equipment in your room you will move down to Shapiro Field House where you will be issued uniforms. Do you understand, recruit?”
I don’t think I heard half the stuff she said but hesitantly I replied, “Yes, ma’am.”
Quickly she corrected me saying, “I am not a ma’am, you will address me as 1st Sergeant Cogan.”
The 1st Sergeant handed me my keys in a little yellow envelope labeled, “Cav.” My mom looked at me and said, “Hey! Cav! That’s the company you wanted with the horses.”
“Oh yeah…look at that,” I replied.
We proceeded to my room, where I dropped off my computer and my one small duffel bag.
I put the “Rook Book” in my rear right pocket as directed, and proceeded to get my uniform issue.
As we were going around the field house, getting my issues, we came to this one point in the line where a cadet was
handing out these large yellow bags. As all the new recruits were passing him
he would hand each of them a bag. As I got close to him, he looked at me, giving
me a look similar to that of the first cadet I saw sitting at the table with the 1st Sergeant, and shouted “Hey
recruit!”
“Oh Christ,” I thought, “I wasn’t even here an hour and I already have two cadets that want
me dead.” He then proceeded to toss at full force this giant yellow bag
right at my face. Somehow, by some act of God, I caught it but I stumbled and
tripped over my own two feet, falling backwards. Not only did I look like a fool,
but I looked weak. This was definitely not the initial impression I wanted to
leave.
After I got all
my initial issues such as boots, Battle Dress Uniforms (BDUs), sheets, Physical Training (PT) gear, and other various uniform
items, the entire class and their families were assembled in Kreitzberg Arena.
The seats were divided up by which company you were going to be in.
Since I knew I was in Cav, the people I sat around were also going to be in Cav.
I was just sitting there waiting for it all to start, making casual conversation with my family. After a little while, this gigantic kid sat right in front of me.
He turned around and asked me, “Hey, I’m Dallas,
are you in Cav too?”
“Yeah, whats
up? I’m Pat.” Looking
at this kid, I was guessing he had to weigh around 400 pounds. Since I applied
for, and received, an Air Force ROTC scholarship, I had to pass a PAE, or Physical Aptitude Exam. This consisted of pull-ups, push-ups, a standing long jump, a basketball throw from your knees, and a 300-yard
shuttle run. I figured going into a military school that anyone admitted would
have to pass the same test I did. Once I laid eyes on Dallas, however, I realized there were no physical requirements to get in.
“Well my parents
just dropped me off. So do we ride horses or something?”
“Yeah I guess so, I have no clue,” I replied.
“Well I hope they got a Clydesdale for me.”
We had a little over
400 recruits in my class the first day. In Kreitzberg, the University President,
Rear Admiral Schneider; Commandant of Cadets, Brigadier General Kelly; and the Regimental Commander, C/COL Knoebel, each gave
speeches basically saying the same thing, that we were about to start Rookdom, and it will be hard. “You are about to embark upon a great journey,” were the words of Brigadier General Kelly,
Commandant of Cadets. Although I was hearing what they were saying, I really
did not fully appreciate the meaning behind it. I read every book I could about
the military, heard every story from my relatives who were in the military, and grew up watching war movies. However, I can honestly say that I had no clue what I was getting myself into.
Right after their speeches, COL Knoebel informed us that we had five minutes to say goodbye to our family and friends. Not once in my life have I seen my father cry except for that day.
“Don’t worry, it’ll be fun,” I confidently replied. “I’ll
see you in a couple months.”
Cav, thankfully, was one of the first companies called to leave, knowing that I’m not really good at good-byes
and I just wanted to get started. Walking out, I looked at all the people that
were going to be with me in my company. Some of them looked nervous and scared. I though to myself, “Should I be as scared as they look? I guess I’m about to find out.”
When we went outside I got a first glance at my cadre (cadet drill instructors).
Some of them looked tall and built, others were short and intimidating. There
was one man, however, that dominated them all by the way he stood, walked, and talked.
His voice was so commanding and so intense it would break anyone down.
I fruitlessly tried to get in step with the person in front of me. One
of the Corporals, CPL Marino, looked at me, shook her head, and said “Hey you!
Don’t worry about getting in step right now just go where we tell you to!”
I didn’t even bother to respond which was probably the right thing to do at this point.
We went up all the steps from Kreitzberg Arena to the UP (Upper Parade Ground) and formed up in as good as a formation
as it could be on the first day, waiting for the other companies to arrive. We
stood at a certain area on the UP directly across from our barracks, Ransom Hall. This
was later known as the “Company Area.” It would be where we stood
for formations for the next four years. All the while, our cadre were giving
us a hundred different directions at once: how to stand, where to stand, slightly bend your knees, hands are placed at a certain
area on your side, etc. All you could hear were different cadre staffs from all
the companies yelling at their recruits. The place seemed to be in chaos. Then, a small, single line of cadets formed in the center of the parade ground. In the front and center of this small formation was a small cadet, the same one who
gave the speech in Kreitzberg, the Regimental Commander.
Out of nowhere, a single shot was fired from a cannon and the whole place went silent almost instantaneously. Our cadre staff then lined up in front of us, facing us. Each one of them stepped forward, introducing their ranks, names, positions, and how we should address
them. Among them was that first cadet sitting with the First Sergeant giving
me the death stare. At the end of the line, that dominating cadet stepped forward,
saying, “I am Sergeant First Class Swan, your platoon sergeant and senior drill instructor, you will address me as ‘Platoon
Sergeant.’”
“Holy God, what did I get myself into” was the only thought crossing my mind. We walked back to the barracks, taking the road all the way around the UP while the cadre staff took the
direct path cutting straight through right to the barracks. “This is stupid,
why are we wasting time going around the entire parade ground when we can just cut right across.” Little did I know that recruits were not allowed to use the paths cutting through the UP. In fact, I really didn’t know anything about the life of a Norwich
recruit before I actually came here. I found out everything the hard way. Eventually, we got back to the barracks.
“Get on the wall!” were the simple directions of SSGT Ingles, the 3rd Squad leader.
“What the hell am I supposed to do? What’s ‘the wall’?”
I was pondering. I started to see the other recruits form up in a straight line
along the wall. So I just went with the flow.
With that, the cadre started ripping into us, correcting every minute detail, screaming at us to blouse, or tuck in,
our shoelaces, tuck in our shirts, pull up our socks, look straight ahead, stand properly, etc. All you could hear were their voices. Then suddenly, the platoon
sergeant makes a fist in the air and the whole hallway goes silent. He walked
up and down the hallway a couple times, looking at each and every one of us. I
was trying my hardest not to look back at him. He then says, “I am your
platoon sergeant. I am not your friend. None of us are. These next months will
be some of the toughest in your life. The people standing on your left and right
are your rook buddies. They are your brothers and sisters. You will become like a family and support each other. There
are no individuals here. You are not in high school anymore. With that, you will change into your PT gear and be out here in the hallway in two minutes. Go!”
We all charged into our rooms, the cadre screaming at us the whole way. I
waited for my roommate, Curtis Chase, and closed the door. Afraid to lock it,
I just started changing. As much as I didn’t want to, I slammed the door
in CPL Bennett’s face. A second later, he opened the door and started yelling
at me about the importance of locking the door. While he was talking, I slammed
the door in his face again, this time locking it. SLAM! CLICK. A horrible choice of actions but I was only concerned about meeting the deadline that this very large man
has set for us. Ripping off my clothes, I changed into the PT gear and opened
the door. There he was standing there, the cadet whose nose I almost broke while
closing a door.
“Where is you nametag?!” he hollered.
“ Platoon sergeant, um…on my other shirt, platoon sergeant” I responded.
“WHAT!?! Oh it’s
the platoon sergeant you want.” Looking over at the platoon sergeant, “Hey
platoon sergeant, RCT Noname requests you.”
SFC Swan, in a most intimidating way, walks over and says in a loud manner, “Get in your room, lock your door,
and don’t come out until you have a white nametag on. How are we supposed
to know who you are?”
I get my nametag and get back on the wall, with this platoon sergeant giving me dirty looks. He says, “We’re going to take a little accountability of your gear now. Get your Rook Book, your notebook, and your pen and get back on the wall.”
Again, I run back to my room with the same cadet as before yelling at me the whole way, grab my stuff, and get back
on the wall. That same cadet, CPL Bennett, started shouting at me yet again,
“Hold your gear in one hand directly out in front of you. Keep your arm
straight.”
It didn’t seem all that hard at first, but this continued on for the next 2 hours. Each item we brought out we had to hold out in front of us. As
we went along, the items we had to hold out got bigger and bigger. The sweat
was pouring down us, and the hallway was soaked with it.
“Go get your middle wall locker drawer.” As I’m in my
room trying to get it, I see one of my so-called “rook buddies” just collapse in front of my door. At first I thought he slipped on the sweat on the floor. Then
he was wincing in pain. This recruit was one of the first people I noticed when
I first arrived. He looked well-built and seemed like he was in good shape.
“My back…I strained a muscle um…lifting weights…the other week and I thought nothing of it”
he claimed.
A stretcher was brought in and he was taken away. That was the last time
I ever saw him. He never came back. “Great…”
I thought. “If that guy only lasted two hours how long will I?”
While he was being treated, they needed something to do with us. So they
made us stay in our rooms and write down on a piece of paper why we came to Norwich
and what the Cavalry means to me. Briefly, I wrote down how I grew up around
the military and how I wanted to be part of a great tradition so I came to Norwich
and joined Cav. What I didn’t write down is that my first choice was West
Point but I got rejected, and I came to Norwich because I
got a couple scholarships from them. It would be like saying how you are an Army
fan going to the Naval Academy,
which I have done when I was at the Naval Academy Summer Seminar. I learned from
that mistake.
Soon later, we were off to bed. “Foot of your racks! Lights out!” was the order from the platoon sergeant. There
I was standing at parade rest at the foot of my rack, my room completely destroyed, crap all over the place, drenched with
sweat. “Prepare to mount…mount!
You are lying down at the position of attention, not moving, one per rack and only one per rack!” After lying down for a solid five minutes the platoon sergeant came in, kicked my trashcan (which was holding
my door open) across the room and the door slammed.
“Prepare to lock!” shouted Swan. “LOCK!”
I was guessing he mean the lock on the door. He wanted all the doors locked
simultaneously so there would be one loud “click”, and he wouldn’t let us go to sleep until that happened.
Each member of the cadre staff screamed “Goodnight!” from the hallway.
We had to guess their names based on their voices, and say goodnight back. I
couldn’t even recognize some of their names even if I was staring at their nametags, nevertheless from their voices. To top it all off, they played in the hallway, very loudly, “One Thing,”
by Finger Eleven to try to make us homesick.
Maybe it worked for other people, but I was looking forward to going to a military school my entire high school career. I couldn’t stand the people in my high school and I was more than ready to go
to an environment where discipline was a way of life. I wanted more than anything
to be part of a real team where everyone depends on the support of each other. Sure,
I was on a couple sports teams in high school, but anyone who was ever on a high school football team knows it’s not
like that. Even though the first day was probably one of the worst days, it was
by far better than my best day in high school.
