��THE FORT SHERIDAN ASSOCIATION
���AN AIRPLANE VIEW OF THE WOODEN BARRACKS
��The morning finally came when the candidates were slated to appear before the examining board. They didn't say much. Some sat on the edges of their bunks, others walked aimlessly around. The company humorist, with his teeth chattering, tried to pull something funny, but it sounded like a laugh at a funeral. They looked at each other and then fell to musing.
Then the sergeant, as nervous as the rest appeared, and with an air about as snappy as a conscientious objector on police duty, said "Fall in."
They fell in. It was the strangest company formation in the entire Camp. Like a winding snake it watched outside the door. Sometimes w^hen we see some self-confident ex-officer striding down Michigan avenue we think of how he looked that morning as he approached the judgment place where sat Colonel Ryan, Major Stacey and his regimental battalion and company com- manders.
The door opens. A name is called. What w^ill it mean? Success or
failure a majority or nothing. The victim steps out the center of staring
eyes and burdened hearts. He starts for the door — tries to smile, but no smile will come.
He has planned every step in advance. He has dreamed about it all
night he approaches the mess hall where the board is sitting, stumbles on the
step and almost falls headlong. His plans are gone — the Red Tape is cut into smithereens. The door opens and he finds himself inside.
What is he there for? Shall he salute? What will he do w^ith his hands? Must he stand at attention or at ease? Should he smile and be natural or be stern and severe?
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