[image ALT: Much of my site will be useless to you if you've got the images turned off!]
mail:
Bill Thayer

[image ALT: Cliccare qui per una pagina di aiuto in Italiano.]
Italiano

[Link to a series of help pages]
Help
[Link to the next level up]
Up
[Link to my homepage]
Home

[image ALT: link to previous section]
April 10

This webpage reproduces a section of
The Collected Works
of Ducrot Pepys

by
Ronan C. Grady

Newburgh, N. Y., 1943

The text is in the public domain.

This page has been carefully proofread
and I believe it to be free of errors.
If you find a mistake though,
please let me know!


[image ALT: link to next section]
May 8
This site is not affiliated with the US Military Academy.

p48 April 24, 1942 . . . .

Monday. We studied mirrors in Philosophy today. My other wife looked into a magnifying mirror and now believes that that department has laid a spell upon him. He astonished the Cadet Store by trying to buy a cap in the same size as his collar. However they sold him one, charging an exorbitant price. The Philosophy Department, I have recently found out, now calls itself the Physics department. It is about time they dropped all pretense and admitted they are attempting to teach Physics, although they use the same happy-go‑lucky methods as Socrates and his chums.

Tuesday. Of late He has been going through our wardrobes like a devouring flame. It is quite true that some cadets' garments due to the wear and tear of years and years of routine cadet activities have been reduced to such a state that moths will not spit on them. But as His method of testing any garment is to tie one arm or leg to the alcove rail and then swing on the free arm or leg and He is a solid little chap, so many serviceable bits of apparel become two bits of apparel. My other wife, who now perforce wears a sloppy sarong-like thing that he fashioned out of remnants, daily goes to His quarters and peeps in the window. My wife says that the day His wife hangs up a new set of gray curtains will be M‑day for the revolution.

Wednesday. The Drawing Department, which by the way has also changed its name to something I can neither spell nor remember, has presented us with the task of drawing a machine that resembles an atom-smasher I once knew. This is just plain nasty spite. My eyes, none too good to start with, now are wholly unreliable at ranges greater than three feet. Also if I lean too far forward they drop out on the floor and get all dirty.

Thursday. Tonight my wives are attending the drawing of Air Corps schools. A function to which I was not invited for reasons too sordid to mention. My wives have returned. It appears that my other wife has been assigned to Mammoth Cave, Kentucky, which shows that the authorities are not entirely mad. My sane wife refuses to tell where he is going.


[image ALT: A drawing of two young men: in the foreground, one is in full uniform — a uniform made distinctive by wide stripes in various places — and sits at a table, his elbows on a blotter and supporting his head; he is weeping. In the background, the other is in partial uniform, jacketless but wearing a T‑shirt, and is cavorting around with his arms outstretched as in imitation of a plane. It is a cartoon of two West Point cadets: one who has been accepted to flight school, and the other who has not.]

"My sane wife refuses to tell where he is going."

Friday. Tactics lately has concerned itself with Field Artillery. My other wife who is incapable of handling a sling shot is much taken with the study however as they have a very nice sand pile.

Saturday. The same old thing. I wager one could become accustomed to the best the devil has to offer given a little time. I know I could.

Sunday. Eat, drink, and be merry for tomorrow we begin another week.


[image ALT: Valid HTML 4.01.]

Page updated: 16 Aug 12