Free North and South Trilogy by John Jakes Page B

that occupied most of the day. The evening parades, watched by visitors from the hotel, were splendid martial demonstrations that made all the travails worthwhile.
    A cadet hop was held each week. To make sure there were enough partners for the ladies who attended, the Academy offered its students the services of a German dancing master. George brushed up on the jig and double shuffle and attended every hop if he wasn’t on duty. Plebes were permitted to mingle with the female guests, but of course had to defer to upperclassmen at all times. In spite of this, George enjoyed himself immensely and on several occasions strolled down Flirtation Walk with a girl—a deliberate defiance of the rules that placed certain sections of the post off limits to members of his class.
    One night after a hop, George crawled into the tent with the smell of cigars on him. He found Orry still awake and urged his friend to join him at next week’s dance.
    “I’m a terrible dancer.” Orry yawned. “I never have enough nerve to hold a girl firmly. I reckon my trouble is that I think of a woman as an object to be admired from a distance, like a statue.”
    “Stuff and nonsense,” George whispered. “Women are meant to be touched and used—like a nice old winter glove. They like it.”
    “George, I can’t believe that. Women don’t think the same thoughts as men. They’re delicate creatures. Refined.”
    “They only pretend to be delicate and refined because it sometimes suits their purposes. Believe me, Orry, a woman wants exactly what a man wants. She just isn’t allowed to admit it, that’s all. You’d better get over that romantic view of the fair sex. If you don’t, one of these days some woman will break your heart.”
    Orry suspected George was right. But he still couldn’t bring himself to attend a hop that summer.
    At the end of August the furloughed class returned and the corps of cadets moved back to barracks. On that day upperclassmen took advantage of the plebes as beasts of burden, ordering them to carry their gear. Corporal Bent sought out George, who made four trips with staggering loads in ninety-eight-degree heat. At the start of the fifth trip Bent ordered him to run. George got halfway up the stairs in North Barracks, gasped, and passed out.
    He bloodied his forehead as he crashed to the landing below. Bent didn’t apologize or express sympathy. He placed George on report for damaging an upperclassman’s belongings through carelessness. Orry urged that his roommate write an excuse.
    George said no. “I’d have to admit I swooned like a girl. I don’t want that on my record. But don’t worry, I’ll get that bastard. If not next week, then next month or next year.”
    Orry was starting to feel the same way.
    The morning gun, the evening gun, the fifes and the drum soon became familiar sounds, even friendly ones. It was the drum Orry liked best. It not only served as a kind of clock; it reminded him of why he was here. It cheered him up whenever he felt the classroom work was too hard—which was almost every time he went to the board.
    Plebes received instruction in mathematics during the morning and in French during the afternoon. For the first week sections were organized on a random basis. Then at week’s end new cadets were ranked. Orry found himself in the mathematics section second from the bottom. In French he was in the lowest section—among the immortals, as the cadets called them.
    Orry’s French section recited to Lieutenant Théophile d’Orémieulx, born in France and Gallic from his shrug to his peg-top trousers. He was highly critical of the accents and abilities of his pupils, and his grading showed it.
    Class standings were announced once a week at parade. Some cadets rotated in or out of the lowest French section, but Orry remained. This led d’Orémieulx to question him about his background. Orry was prodded to admit that the founder of the Main family had been a Frenchman.
    “Then