<p>On another forum I came across a guy who went through Beast about two years ago but eventually dropped out. He told me two stories which I thought you all would probably get a kick out of. He uses his username, Scraps, to refer to himself, and most of the profanity has been censored by this forum, but you can use your imagination. Enjoy:</p>
<p>Two and a half years ago, I was a USMA new cadet.</p>
<p>Before your first year at West Point, you're expected to report for your 'boot camp', lovingly entitled Beast Barracks. Supposedly, this differs from real boot camp by being more mentally intensive and less physically intensive.</p>
<p>It also differs from enlisted boot because there are no real drill instructors. True, there are some real hardasses at the school working as teachers and making sure everything goes ok. There are also some enlisted guys that take the academy route to officer- my battle buddy at the time, Corporal Groves, was a 22-year-old ranger veteran from Iraq.</p>
<p>And we're both getting told what to do by 20 and 21-year-old academy students. The Juniors and Seniors are your NCOs and COs. These are not the rough and tough drill sergeants, eat nails and **** rust NCOs from real basic.</p>
<p>But what they don't have in skills they make up for in number. You'll have a sergeant assigned to every ten new cadets and a lieutenant to every forty. They watch you like a ****ing hawk.</p>
<p>One day in formation, about three weeks into Beast, we were in formation. Funny enough, we still hadn't mastered the rigors of standing still. In order to test us, the sergeant from the squad next to us started jumping around and dancing a bit to catch our eyes.</p>
<p>He caught me. He half-strutted, half-stomped over to my position and immediately sized me up. "New Cadet Scraps, why did you look at me? Do you think I'm cute, new cadet?"</p>
<p>Well, ****. I knew I couldn't talk in formation and I didn't want to dig myself deeper by doing so, but I had to answer somehow.</p>
<p>I winked at him.</p>
<p>Ever see a building fall down? The man behaved just like one. First his lips started curling around the edges into a full-blown smile and then into hysterical laughter. He tried his hardest to chew me out but couldn't, he was laughing so ****ing hard. As our cadet CO marches out, he rushes back into formation biting his lip.</p>
<p>But I wasn't about to escape punishment so easily.</p>
<p>Later that night, my squad is on the wall reciting the knowledge for that week. That sergeant's resides nextdoor to our current location and he stomps over with a gleam in his eye. He barges past my drill sergeant and looks me straight in the eye.</p>
<p>"New Cadet Scraps, you still think I'm cute?"</p>
<p>Well hell, now I can give him an answer.</p>
<p>"No sergeant!"</p>
<p>His face hardens as much as he could make it. "Were you lying to me, New Cadet?"</p>
<p>"I thought the sergeant could use a self esteem boost, sergeant!"</p>
<p>This time his laughter was a waterfall. He busted up so hard he couldn't say anything else. He made a few furious hand motions in between and stomped off to his room just a few feet away, making sure to slam the door. Later, I learned that I had narrowly escaped having to write "I will not wink at Sergeant _______" five hundred times.</p>
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<p>The academies have a pretty goddamned strict religious view. While USMA isn't as bad as the Air Force when it comes to proselytizing, I got a lot of **** for going to Jewish services on Friday nights. While everyone else was working or doing some mindless, repetitive task, I was talking with retired Jewish colonels who had literally punched nazis in the face.</p>
<p>That wasn't all I was doing. You see, West Point has (had?) a bit of a Jewish conspiracy. The Jewish kids stick together. For those two hours a week, I wasn't new cadet Scraps. I was Mark (or Moishe, the self-deprecating Jew. Oy!) and the Jewish cadre was on my side.</p>
<p>Being in the Jewish services also had some benefits. You see, a good part of being Jewish is eating. Two thirds of our major holidays are "They tried to kill us, they didn't, let's eat food." There's also a tradition of bringing food to synagogue and the old Jewish wives didn't disappoint, even at USMA.</p>
<p>They brought out a whole ****ing smorgasbord. Cold cuts, pickles, potato chips, candy, soda, turkey, tomatoes, ham (I kid) and everything you had forgotten existed in the few short days you've been there. It's heaven, simply heaven.</p>
<p>So I'm sitting there and enjoying my turkey sandwich when an upperclassman looks at me and starts chatting me up. He's asking the obvious questions- where are you from, what company are you in, etc. Then he asks something that makes me break out in an ear to ear grin.</p>
<p>"I've got a cell phone. Want to call home?"</p>
<p>**** yeah, I want to call home. Five minutes of my mother yelling at me not to quit. Ok, not such a good idea.</p>
<p>Shortly thereafter, we all march back. I'm talking in the few minutes before bedtime (the official term for it is tattoo) to my buddies Stone and Lopez (names changed). They're good guys and I'd like to share my good fortune with them. I tell them to come with me next time, as well as most of my squad. Why should I get benefits they shouldn't?</p>
<p>Outside of the entire squad refusing to eat the pork chops at the mess hall and picking up any spare change to see, what could be the consequences?</p>
<p>Lopez and Stone came with me. They partook of the bounty of food and even made a phone call home.</p>
<p>Next day, my cadet company commander storms up to me in formation and confronts me. An inch away from my face, he yells, "Did you eat nonregulation food last night?"</p>
<p>"Yes sir."</p>
<p>"Did you telephone home, New Cadet?"</p>
<p>"Yes sir."</p>
<p>He softens.</p>
<p>"Don't let it happen again. You shouldn't be getting privileges your squad members aren't getting. You wanna screw your buddies?"</p>
<p>"No sir!"</p>
<p>Lopez and Stone get the same speech, albeit a less intense one. They both nod and appear to understand.</p>
<p>I'm still going to Jewish services even if I can't eat the food or call home anymore. The next week, I'm marching up and talking to our guide, a female corporal and I tell her what happened.</p>
<p>"Ah **** him, eat the food and call home, that's what the rabbi would tell you to do."</p>
<p>Well hell, all right!</p>
<p>I eat the food, I make the call home. So does Lopez. Stone doesn't come.</p>
<p>Next day: Cadet company commander stamps over to me and gives me a death glare and a sneer.</p>
<p>"You eat the food last night, new cadet?"</p>
<p><strong><em>. *</em></strong> *** **** **** **** **** **** **** <strong><em>. *</em></strong>. ***.</p>
<p>"Yes, sir!"</p>
<p>The sneer gets bigger. His lip's halfway up his face now.</p>
<p>"You make a phone call home LAST NIGHT NEW CADET?"</p>
<p>Well, I'm ****ed. Might as well go down like a man.</p>
<p>"Yes sir."</p>
<p>I'm amazed the guy didn't punch me in the face right there. The man's teeth were clenched so hard that I'm surprised he had any left.</p>
<p>"WHY DID YOU DO SO NEW CADET?"</p>
<p>This is fight or flight time. There's a tiny reptilian part in your brain that tells you what to do in ****house situations. It's shaped like a miniature football and sits right atop the base of your spine. When it talks you're going to listen.</p>
<p>It's also got **** for brains.</p>
<p>"I was ordered to, sir!"</p>
<p>Ohhhhh *<strong><em>. I immediately recant that, say it was a pop-off answer and quickly backtrack, clarifying myself. There's a reason reptiles haven't created civilizations or gone to the moon: they're *</em></strong>ing stupid.</p>
<p>Fury, rage, anger, just a touch of madness. Let's just say a red-faced captain screaming and stamping in the middle of a huge formation. Then he'll tell me he'll see me later.</p>
<p>Stomps down to Lopez, inquires the same things. Lopez takes a different strategy than I did. "No sir!" "No sir!" "NO SIR!"</p>
<p>...as much trouble as I'm in, I KNOW Lopez is ****ed. I wagered that he wouldn't be asking these questions if he didn't already know the answer.</p>
<p>Then the cadet captain did something that scared me even more than the hot anger. He got icy. "Upstairs, tonight. With Scraps."</p>
<p>I'm ****ting myself, he thinks he's getting off scott free.</p>
<p>We're standing outside the cadet captain's office at parade rest for two hours. Two hours, no moving save for when they bring you in to interrogate you. Several other cadre members walking by, badmouthing you, doing their best to make your life hell.</p>
<p>I get taken in, they have everyone in my chain of command (that was still a student) there. Everyone. They grill my ass and I do nothing but tell the truth. Classic interrogation scene- they even ask me how long the phone call was (2 minutes, 37 seconds). As soon as they say that, they go and they ****ing find out how long that phone call was. Turns out I was right.</p>
<p>Then they grill me about Lopez. I didn't see Lopez make the call and I say so accordingly. He was in the room but I physically didn't see him make the call. I tell them that.</p>
<p>Everyone calms down. They all nod at once, including my sergeant. My company commander tells me that they're not going to bring me up on honor charges and they're not going to dick me. They're not going to restrict me from Jewish services and they're not going to completely ream me. They believed my answer was a pop-off answer and that I wasn't trying to deceive anyone. Then they tossed my plebe knowledge book at me and told me to learn my chain of command- "They're the only people you take orders from."</p>
<p>I was escorted back to my room at 11:00 and lay awake the rest of the night.</p>
<p>Lopez didn't come back.</p>