Well, that had been three years ago. Now again it was early June, before the always impressive graduation exercises and review. End-term exams would be followed by a traditional day in which the cadets let off steam. It was a time for the nearby townspeople of Fickingston to lock their stores and keep their pets indoor. Tales of cadet capers were fondly passed from class to class down through the years. The time old Brewster's cows were abducted to be ushered in as guests of honor at the milk-fund bazaar. The famous mad-dog hoax: total panic created by ten screaming Enterprisers, Mrs. Holt's amiable basset hound and a pressurized can of whipped cream.
One might ask why the locals put up with mischief like that, and the answer would be expedient. Though almost a mile away, Enterprise was what made the town of Fickingston a true American town. Enterprise parents were upper-middle-class. They brought to tradesmen and innkeepers a dependable economy. Besides, the Academy had always been there. History was imbedded in its mossy stones. Of the eighteen thousand three hundred and five men furnished by the State of New Jersey for the Union cause against the Confederate Army, Enterprise supplied thirty-eight officers, including two generals, and a hundred and fifty-four authenticated heroes.
Through all our wars, the record was more than impressive. It was a roll call of heroism and leadership wherein Enterprise's proudest boast was, of course, the Flame-Eather himself, General Vinnie Quentin Hardison, Supreme Allied Commander Europe.ns126.96.36.199da2