DRUMMED OUT OF THE CORPS

by Phil Rowe
I awoke slowly, not quite believing what I heard. The bugler was loudly blowing Assembly .... before Reveille, and it was barely 3 AM. What in the world was going on? We NEVER get up at this ungodly hour.

We cadets rolled out of the sack, blearily struggled into our uniforms, donned our great-coats and staggered out into the morning darkness. It was foggy and wet, the street lights casting pitifully little illumination on the before-dawn assembly at Virginia Polytechnic Institute (VPI).

The formations of grey-clad military school cadets slowly responded to the barked commands of upper classmen. We marched out onto the parade ground and formed up into a square surrounding a small group of seniors on the reviewing stand. Hundreds of us ringed the platform, ten deep, precisely arranged by units. Still we knew nothing of the reason for this unusual formation.

Winds blew the morning mists and swirled the dampness about. It was fortunate that we had on our heavy woolen greatcoats. Most of us were still only half awake, but that was soon to change. We were called to stand at attention as the roll of drums began.

Three soon marched across the field, from one corner of the gathered assembly, and stopped in front of the reviewing stand. One saluted, turned and stood in front of a microphone. From the loudspeakers we soon learned. We knew why we were there and it was surprising.

A senior cadet read the charges and specifications against one of the juniors standing before us. As each charge was read, the drums rolled in emphasis. A young man was found guilty of stealing from his classmates, tried by the cadet honor council and judged to be guilty. He was being publicly disgraced for several thefts in his barracks, caught in the act by a number of his peers, and forced to endure this public humiliation, as well as dismissal from the cadet corps and the school.

The cadet colonel declared the sentence would be carried out immediately. The culprit was called to stand before the assemblage. His sentence was read aloud, and again the drums rolled. The chairman of the cadet honor council stood facing the now-trembling young man.

One-by-one, the brass buttons of his greatcoat were plucked off, as the loudspeaker intoned the message that VPI cadets will not tolerate a thief, that the guilty man was not entitled to wear the symbols of the corps' proud heritage. Drums rolled as each button was torn from the coat. This was the process of a 'drumming-out'.

When all of the miscreant's buttons were removed, the chairman announced that the council had determined that the guilty ex-cadet was to remove himself from the campus before the sun arose. Every sign that he had ever been a part of the corps was to be erased, including his listing on the rosters, the label on his locker and the name from his dormitory room door. As far as the corps was concerned, he no longer existed.

I'm sure most of the cadets, like me, still see the disciplined ranks around the outcast, still hear the drums, still feel the pride and the pain involved. The ceremony was intended that we do.