Chapter Two

 

12 September 1840, West Point, New York

 

They came in the middle of the night while Cord’s roommate, Fred Dent, was on guard duty. An obviously timed frontal assault for cadets skilled in the art of the attack. However, the odds, six to one, were in their favor, so surprise was not high on their tactical agenda.

Elijah Cord was waiting, seated on the edge of his bunk, stripped to the waist and wearing a pair of cast-off pants he’d scavenged from the laundress for just this occasion. The bottle of rum he’d been fortifying himself with was tucked up in the fireplace flue, out of sight.

The six wore their full dress grey uniforms, giving the impression they were on Academy sanctioned business. As they crowded into the room they were taken aback by Cord’s informal attire and his readiness for their visit.

Nathaniel Lyon, a First Class Cadet in the class of ’41, stepped to the forefront, flanked by the plebe representative of the Vigilance Committee, Simon Bolivar Buckner. The other four stood in the background, arms folded across their chests.

“As the representatives of the Vigilance Committee of the Corps of Cadets,” Lyon began, “we demand that you resign from the Academy for actions bringing discredit upon the Corps and conduct unbecoming a gentleman. We demand you tender your resignation immediately.”

Buckner placed a piece of parchment down on Cord’s desk and pointed at the pen resting in its inkwell. “We’ve done you the courtesy of already writing it,” he said. “Just sign, sir.”

Cord slowly got to his feet. It was early September and warm in the room. The academic year was getting into full swing. The barracks was still as death as the members of his company were in their bunks, awake, waiting to hear what would happen. Cord did not move toward the desk.

The seconds ticked by. Lyon glanced over at Buckner. A couple of the second rank figures fidgeted. This was not playing out the way they had anticipated.

“You will not comply?” Lyon asked.

“What exactly have I done that requires your visit?” Cord asked.

“You were absent from your room without permission,” Lyon said. “You failed to take responsibility for bringing dishonor on a young woman, and your actions caused Mister King to be discharged from the Academy just a week before his graduation.”

“Is it not true that Lucius Rumble, now a private in the Army, resigned to take responsibility for the very event which you now lay at my doorstep?” Cord asked. “Is it not true that Mister King’s own action brought about his dismissal?”

“Everyone knows—” Lyon began, but Cord cut him off.

“Everyone knows nothing. Has Lucius Rumble made a claim against me that you’re acting on? Has Mister King? I wish to know my accuser.”

“Your accuser is the Corps,” Lyon said. He took a step closer. “Your options are limited, Mister Cord. Resign.”

“I’m afraid I must disappoint you gentlemen,” Cord said. “Although I am indeed guilty of several mistakes, I will never resign.”

Lyon and Buckner exchanged a glance. Lyon took a few steps forward until he was right next to Cord. He lowered his voice to a harsh whisper. “You bring disgrace on all of us with your lack of honor. Do the right thing.”

“You equate right with honor?” Cord asked. He shook his head. “Never.”

Lyon stepped back and raised his voice. “Then you must face the wrath of the Corps and experience the ‘Silence’. No one will speak to you or acknowledge you. You will not exist.”

Cord stood fast as the four cadets in the back row began to remove their full dress coats. Lyon and Buckner stayed back as the four approached, spreading out. Still, Cord made no move to defend himself. When they charged, he stood still, arms down.

The beating was quick and vicious. For half a minute they pummeled, but then the attackers slowed their fists, disconcerted by the lack of defense offered. A blow to the side of the head dropped Cord to his knees, blood pouring from cuts on his face. His lip was split, his nose broken anew. One of the attackers swung his boot, catching Cord in the chest and a rib cracked, causing him to double over in pain.

The four cadets stepped back, fists bruised and covered in Cord’s blood, but otherwise unmarked.

Cord slowly straightened, then staggered to his feet. He attempted his trademark smile, causing more blood to flow from his lip. “Is that all you have to offer me?”

“You must resign,” Buckner said. “That is unconditional.”

“Is it now, Gentlemen?” Everyone turned to the door where Sam Grant stood, wearing dress gray and the white sash of the cadet in charge of quarters. Grant made a show of checking his pocket watch. “Unconditional, Mister Buckner? I do believe there are cadets in this room who are absent quarters after evening reveille.”

“Grant,” Lyon said, “mind your business. We’re the Vigilance Committee.”

“This is my business,” Grant said. “But I am a lenient man. If you depart now, I won’t have to write this up or summon the cadet officer of the day, Cadet Dent. Whose room, I believe, this is.”

Lyon pointed at Cord. “He’s been ‘Silenced’.”

“Time’s passing,” Grant said.

“We should go,” Buckner said to Lyon.

“Stand your ground,” Lyon ordered the plebe.

“Buckner’s giving good advice,” Grant said. “I will do my duty if you do not retreat.”

The six departed with many a glare at both Grant and especially Cord. When it was just the two of them, Cord finally lowered himself onto his bunk with a groan of pain.

“You need to go to the surgeon,” Grant said.

Cord shook his head “No. Then the Supe will find out. It’s just pain.”

“They didn’t seem much the worse for the affair,” Grant noted. “Except for their fists.”

“I didn’t fight.” Cord was running his fingers over his bloody nose.

“Why not?”

“Because I was wrong,” Cord said. “But I will not resign.”

“Being ‘Silenced’ by the Corps will be most difficult to bear,” Grant said. “No one has survived it for more than six months.”

Cord squeezed his fingers on the side of his nose and with a sickening crack it settled back into it’s previously offset position. He closed his eyes from the pain and tears rolled down his face. “You won’t ‘Silence’ me, will you, Sam?”

Grant shook his head. “The Vigilance Committee holds no official sway. Most of the Corps, though, will follow their dictum and ignore you for the rest of your tenure here. Three years like that will be a long time.”

“I did two years before the mast,” Cord said.

“This’ll be different, besides longer,” Grant said.

“I won’t get seasick at least.” Cord lay back on his bed with a groan. “Why won’t you honor the Silence?”

“It’s a false honor they enforce,” Grant said. “I was there that morning at Benny Havens. Rumble is content with his new place with Lidia. Happier than I’ve ever seen him. I don’t think you were dishonorable, just drunk and confused.”

“And now I’ll pay for it,” Cord acknowledged. “But I will not resign.”

“That kind of spirit is what the Corps needs more of,” Grant said.

Cord held out his red-stained hand. “But you will talk to me, won’t you, Sam?”

Grant shook the hand. “I don’t shed classmates so easily. I don’t think that is honorable.”