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

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

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

[image ALT: link to previous section]
February 26

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

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]
Femme Sandy Pepys
This site is not affiliated with the US Military Academy.

 p69  March 12, 1943

Monday. My other wife has caused more trouble than usual in Military Engineering because of his pigheaded refusal to allow the word "truss" more than one meaning. He refuses utterly to accept the fact that bridges are fashioned of trusses. There are going to be some surprised imps when I finally kill my other wife and he passes on to his inevitable warm reward. I do not know if they have a penalty box in Hell but they had best get one.

Tuesday. No more week-ends for Pepys the Poorman. The boys over in the Cadet Store have evidently been dropping more than I can afford to lose upon the horses lately. What ever became of this fellow Robin Hood?

Wednesday. I have been afraid to ask if I had an equipment fund like the other boys, but as I must buy uniforms this weekend, today I mustered up my courage and with hope shining from my seamed, unhappy face I went over to the accounting office and inquired. Mastering her girlish amusement with difficulty a sweet young thing ejected me. A process I found painful as she was wearing fiveinch heels. I know that they were five‑inch heels and I can prove it to any interested party. Anyway, I do not care. I can always have trousers, sleeves and shoulder straps built on to my sleeping bag. Neat, but not gaudy.

[image ALT: A drawing of a young man sitting on the ground with his knees up; we see him head‑on, he wears a dazed and pained expression and four stars rise from his head. Behind him a beautiful young woman stands in a doorway with her hands on her hips and a determined expression; the door is of massive wood and is wide open. It is a cartoon of a West Point cadet whose financial request has just been refused by the Accounting Office.]

"a sweet young thing ejected me."

Thursday. During my first year here when I was young and bitter and much stupider than I am now, I used to look forward to the time when I would have enough rank to have all my classes on the first floor. At that time all my classes were up on the fourth floor and my little legs would be buckling beneath my slight weight by the time I staggered into the section room. Now I am older and bitterer and have sharpened up slightly, but not enough to understand why all my classes are still on the fourth floor. Why do they hate us so over there in Cadet Headquarters? As a class we may have erred once or twice, but we mean well and we have been kind to small dogs, up to now that is, so why not let us down to the third floor?

Friday. Attended my first instruction in Unarmed Combat today. I was much amused to watch my sane wife busily breaking someone's leg until I discovered that it was mine.

Saturday. Today I went over to buy uniforms. I can afford a set of shoelaces, but beyond that I fear I cannot safely go. My other wife is not going to be allowed to keep those stars I fear.

Sunday. My uniform problem is solved. These dear, good people will give a lad all he wants and all he has to do is sign a silly, little piece of paper. This smacks of poor business procedure, but if that is the way they want it I shall not complain.

[image ALT: Valid HTML 4.01.]

Page updated: 16 Aug 12