eutral ground, or in New York, Army and Navy Day has become by tacit
consent the nearest thing to a real gridiron holiday. For the civilian
who has been starved for thrilling action and the chance to cheer
through the autumn days, the jam at the hotels used as headquarters by
the followers of the two elevens satisfies a yearning that he has
hitherto been unable to define. There too, is found a host of old-time
college football men and coaches who hold reunion and sometimes even
bury hatchets. Making his way through the crowds and jogging elbows with
the heroes of a sport that he understands only as organized combat he
becomes obsessed with the spirit of the two fighting institutions.

Once in possession of the coveted ticket he hies himself to the field as
early as possible, if he is wise, in order to enjoy the preliminaries
which are unlike those at any other game. Soon his heart beats faster,
attuned to the sound of tramping feet without the gates. The measured
cadence swells, draws nearer, and the thousands rise as one, when first
the long gray column and then the solid ranks of blue swing out upon the
field. The precision of the thing, the realization that order and system
can go so far as to hold in check to the last moment the enthusiasms of
these youngsters thrills him to the core. Then suddenly gray ranks and
blue alike break for the stands, there to cut loose such a volume of now
orderly, now merely frenzied noise as never before smote his ears.

It is inspiration and it is novelty. The time, the place and the men
that wake the loyalty dormant in every man which, sad to say, so seldom
has a chance of expression.

Around the field are ranged diplomat, dignitary of whatsoever rank, both
native and foreign. In common with those who came to see, as well as to
be seen--and who does not boast of having been to the Army-Navy
game--they rise uncovered as the only official non-partisan of football
history enters the gates--the President of the United States. Throughout
one half of the game he lends his support to one Academy and in the
intermission makes triumphal progress across the field, welcomed on his
arrival by a din of shouting surpassing all previous effort, there to
support their side.

[Illustration: CADETS AND MIDDIES ENTERING THE FIELD]

It is perhaps one of those blessed hours in the life of a man upon whom
the white light so pitilessly beats, when he can indulge in the popular
sport, to him so long den