His words cut like a knife, instantly deflating Autie’s enthusiasm. Custer managed with difficulty to maintain his composure. “Thank you for your time, sir,” he said, trying to hide his disappointment. He set his right foot directly behind his left and prepared to turn with military precision toward the door.
Custer paused when Mr. Bingham continued. “But…,”
That one word was enough to revive Custer immediately. “…but I’ve studied your letter, Master Custer, and I’ve looked into your situation. I understand you are a fine horseman.”
Custer answered. “I’ve worked all my life on the farm and helped my father shoe horses since I was twelve,” Custer answered. “I know my way around horses.”
“I also understand you have a good eye with a rifle,” Bingham added. “Yes, sir,” Custer answered. “That also comes from life on the farm. I shoot at vermin that would otherwise eat our wages.”
“Well, Master Custer, I know for a fact that the Academy is looking for good marksmen and horsemen.” Then his voice dropped. “In addition, as a matter of practicality, I’m looking for a few Democratic votes. While this year’s appointment has been filled, I will be glad to submit your name for next year’s class.”
Custer could not believe his fortune. The odds had been against him. Afraid to create any opportunity which might change his mind, Custer hurriedly thanked the representative and spun toward the door. “Thank you, sir. You’ll not be sorry.”
Thoughts of celebration filled his head. “Just wait ’til Tom hears this,” he thought. “Pap and Mother will be proud. And Mary! Mary Holland.”
Suddenly, Custer put two and two together. Bingham had raised the point that he had heard he had an eye for the ladies. Mary’s father was a Republican and a man of means compared to the Custer family. West Point cadets could not marry. Now he understood what had just happened. Any future with Mary was now on hold for at least five years! “I’ve been outflanked!” Custer realized.
For a brief moment, young Custer doubted himself. “Had he earned the appointment to West Point?” he asked himself in mental agony. As he stepped out of the office into the street, he saw Tom waiting across the street and his anguish dissipated. Custer saw his brother start toward him. There was no more time for thinking. At whatever price, he had achieved his goal. He was going to West Point. Just how he had reached that goal, Tom did not need to know.
As Tom reached his brother’s side, Autie was bursting to tell his news, but it would wait just a few more minutes. The boys ran together to escape the watchful eyes of the bustling business district. It was not until they reached the outskirts of town that they collapsed by the side of the road in celebratory wrestling.
George Armstrong Custer would have to leave Mary Holland behind. West Point and glory awaited.
Chapter 4
Glory Kept Waiting
Things were quiet at the U.S. Military Academy at West Point in the spring of 1861. This time of year was usually bustling with activity as a new class prepared for graduation and the acceptance of their first military commissions. But this was an unusual year. War was expected to break out any day and the oldest cadets had been fast-tracked to graduation and put on the train to Washington, D.C. without the usual pomp and ceremony. Only one cadet remained behind.
“I must hand it to you, Lieutenant Custer. It’s not every West Point graduate who manages to face court martial before accepting his first commission.” Sergeant Baxter said.
Baxter was one of the few soldiers remaining on West Point grounds. Only Custer stood between him and joining other young officers in Washington. He was resentful and did not try to hide it.
Baxter was in charge of carrying out Custer’s punishment. He had watched as the young soldier paced in full uniform and arms for four hours. Baxter thought about the exciting possibilities awaiting his fellow soldiers while he stood guard over Custer. Baxter had spent every second musing about whom was being punished, him or Custer!
But Custer was a likable enough fellow and the two could sneak in a good conversation while they munched on some lunch before Custer resumed his forced march.
“My current unfortunate circumstances are not something I’m proud of, Sergeant,” Custer replied. “But then, I cannot admit to being sorry. I thought I was doing a couple of good boys a favor, that’s all. They aren’t bad fellows. Sometimes a good fight can make a couple of spirited fellows the best of friends.”
“Four years at West Point and you didn’t get the message that soldiering is serious business.”
“Well, Baxter, ‘Serious’ and I have never quite gotten along,” Custer rambled. “Life is just too short to bother with serious details. I’m just for getting the job done. Those two cadets were well on their way to settling their own problems even if it was with a scuffle. Ten more minutes and they would have been patting each other on the back as friends. I could hardly take seriously something that wasn’t very serious.”
“All the same, you’re looking at real trouble. The Major has had it in for you since that practical joke you played a few months ago, arranging to have the entire class march out of the classroom when you asked the Spanish teacher to translate “Class is dismissed!”
“Oh that,” Custer said, trying not to break out laughing. “That was nothing. The Major was just putting up a front. I heard the officers were having a good laugh over it the next day.”
“All the same, it got you noticed and not in a good way either. You’ve been living on borrowed time, Second Lieutenant Custer. If you had been awarded all the demerits you actually deserve, you would not have survived your first year! I, for one, thought you had sunk your ship when you cooked one of the officer’s chickens,” Baxter added.
Custer thought back to the juicy feast he had cooked on the fire in the dormitory. He had captured one of the chickens kept in the yard of one of the officers.
“Thought I might be in trouble myself,” Custer added with a laugh. Must have been providence that the trail of chicken feathers led somewhere else!”
“Lucky for you! If even one chicken feather had been found in your fireplace, you’d have been out on your West Point ear. How did that happen, anyway? You have not been known for tidiness!”
Custer laughed in admission of his reputation and tried to change the subject.
“Nonsense,” Custer determined. “This will all blow over, you’ll see. There’s a war to fight and pretty soon even the brass will realize that failing to report two cadets engaged in fisticuffs won’t measure up to what Washington needs—and needs now. The Army needs me. My only regret is that this is keeping me from contributing to the cause.”
“Washington needs you? With your record?” Baxter said with a laugh and bringing the conversation back to Custer.
“My record isn’t so bad if you look close enough,” he continued. “I may have been last in my class, but my standing might have risen if half the class hadn’t left to join the South!”
“I certainly don’t want to short-change you,” Baxter said with a grin. “You would have been first in your class—Southern boys included—if you count demerits,” Baxter interjected snidely.
“Oh, enough. I got plenty good grades in the things that count. There isn’t a better horseman at West Point and every officer here knows that,” Custer defended.
The mention of the Southern boys saddened Custer. He had made best friends with the Southern cadets. In some ways, they had a lot in common. Most of them were good riders and those from the newer states were likely to be farmboys like Custer, fighting their way up the established social