Final Review

In all fairness, I was a party in four final reviews. But the one I remember as the best was when I was a junior. It is a sad day as a senior in that it is a very final final review. That's it. You are done. But not so your junior year. Pretty much everyone knows how final review works if they know anything about the Corps of Cadets. There is a review in early afternoon that has everyone marching as themselves. The seniors, juniors, sophomores, and freshman all march together. Then the corps breaks, and the seniors take off their shirts to wear outfit t-shirts underneath, and the underclassmen go back to the dorm to change into their new uniforms. The freshman don sophomore attire, the sophomore put on the white belts for the first official time, and the juniors put on their boots, and are acknowledged as first classmen.

That is what happens. And when they come back, they assemble the Corps without freshman, and the reviewing officers are the line of booted seniors who are departing. As a senior I fought to suppress tears that day, and failed. But as a junior, I can't think of a greater thrill. To wear the senior boots and know you made it. That is what you feel. Final Review is a day of strong emotion. As a freshman you think it is a day that will never come. When it does you sigh, wipe your brow, and thank God that you made it through the ordeals of being a fish. As a sophomore, you can't wait, then are delighted at the prospect of being a white belt. You too will soon have carpeted rooms, junior privileges, and true freedom over your daily activities. But it is the juniors that get the greatest lift. They are crowned kings that day. It is a coronation for them. To be a senior in the Aggie Band is no small thing. It requires hard work and dedication. And on that day in May of 1992, I knew it was all worth it. I would forever be one of the men who line up on the goal line with leather legs. A true noble man of Kyle Field. As I marched that day, with my parents and brother in the stands, and surrounded by my friends who felt the same things as I. And here I list the names of my fellow streetfighters who shared that exuberance of youth with me that day. It was a passage into authority. They were all members of the Class of '93. Here's the list in no particular order:

Nader Baha
David Feuerbacher (Yes I am)
Kirk Feuerbacher (No I'm not)
Javier Zuniga
Holmes Gwin (Cro Magnon)
Chris Patterson (The Weasel)
Jeremy Schubert (White Chocolate)
Mike Scott
David Boles (Unauthorized)
Ricky Trotter (Re-Re)
Chris Hightower (Yardstick)
Richard Hay
Bradley Millican
Marc Brooks
Marc Varvil
Scott Pool
James Taylor
Jerry Keating

Back to the Junior Delights
I am reachable at
Copyright © Richard Hay 1998