GMS History The History of Greenbrier Military School | Page 31

Besides all the honors won and their adherence to strict rules of
deportment, the cadets were, after all, teenage boys, and stories were always told
of their antics. One of the most popular was about marbles put into the piano in
the auditorium, so that when Col. Rich started to play for chapel, the piano made
the horribly clanking noise of a hailstorm gone awry. Then there was the tale of
polishing the D Company hallway. On Sunday nights the cadets did major
cleaning chores in preparation for Monday morning’s inspection. Now it was
unfortunate that Col. Ben’s office was located at the long end of the D Company
hall, for when the cadets were ready to buff the freshly polished floor, they made
a game of it. One boy sat on a blanket as two boys each grabbed a corner and
pulled. They ran the length of the hall, the blanket buffing the floor all the way,
and let go as they approached the office doorway. Boy and blanket slammed into
Col. Ben’s door, often knocking the door off its hinges. Col. Ben always put on a
great display of anger come Monday morning (Petrie).
GMS sporting events welcomed townspeople as spectators, and local
girls might hope to be invited to dances. But the best public spectacle of all
was the formal Dress Parade, held on Sunday afternoons in the spring. The
Dress Parade was the culmination of the hours of drilling, the practice
shouldering rifles, and the precise foot movements commanded by
sword-wielding officers. Cadets in formal dress wore crisp white pants,
with shoes and brass buttons gleaming in the sun. The band played Sousa
marches while spectators watched from bleachers or stood on the small hill
next to the Activities Building, where lilacs bloomed in the soft springtime
air. Lilacs last bloomed, just as handsome marching cadets once filled
young girls’ imaginations. In their most accomplished years, the whole
cadet battalion performed the Silent Drill, in which all their precision
moves were done silently, with no voice commands. The mistakes were
usually small, unnoticeable to the undrilled eye, and the results were
thrilling. Commencement, held around Memorial Day or early June, was
supposed to be the beginning of the next stage in a cadet’s life, yet it always
was a bittersweet ending for the townspeople. The ceremonies of the two
schools, Greenbrier College and GMS, were exciting and beautiful. From
queens to cadet majors, from parades to coronations to grand balls,
Commencement held more promise than Christmas. In the 1950s the Band
gave concerts on the front lawn. Dogwood trees and yellow roses bloomed
in the yards across Lee Street. Miss Willie made gallons of fruit punch,
which was served politely from crystal punchbowls on linen-covered tables
by administration and faculty wives. All the pomp and ceremony were
delicate vestiges of the Old South, and on fragrant sunny days they swelled
the heart. When evening came, the cadet battalion marched through town to
the Old Stone Church; there they sang throbbing old hymns: “Come, come,
come to the church in the wildwood, to the little brown church in the vale.”
For God and country, those were the glory days of GMS.