Last Updated: 12/10/98
THE MOLE
The article begins with "To some, I am a fabulous character. To others, I am legendary. But actually I'm just The Mole."
Later in the article, he says:
"It was in the next semester that I was gifted with the appellation of The Mole. It was a direct result of my going underground, so to speak. This came about as a result of some quite innocent observations. One day during a light snow fall, I noted that there was a definite path on the sidewalk by Washington Hall where the snow melted as soon as it hit. I knew there were steam pipes running under the walk, but the path of melted snow was much wider than one that an ordinary steam pipe would have made. I decided to investigate. To my amazement, I found that there were tunnels under the area that could be entered from the moats. I made a thorough exploration of them in my off hours and then, just to be sure that I hadn't missed any cutoff, I obtained the tunnel plan from the Post Engineer. It took quite a bit of cajoling, but he finally relented. I was careful not to tell him of my class standing. In a short time I found myself being referred to as The Mole, and I can't say that I didn't like the nomer. At least it was distinctive. I had never heard of anyone else being termed The Mole.
I recall one day that I stationed myself in the tunnel under the manhole cover by the Mess Hall steps. I raised the cover a bit and halted a lone Plebe as he passed by. I ordered him to turn around and, keeping the cover up just slightly, I was able to observe his utter consternation. After correcting him for improperly shined shoes I posted him; I doubt if he ever recovered.
I continued to have great times in the tunnels until one day they locked them while I was inside. The only way out was one of the man-holes. While struggling out of one I was trapped by the Officer in Charge, -- eight months.
It was while I was inspecting the steam tunnels one day that I discovered many telephone wires that were not in use. This started a train of thought that ended in my deciding that it was too much trouble to run to the Orderly Room to make a phone call, and that it would be great to have a phone in my room. I proceeded to run a wire out of the tunnels, up onto the stoops of barracks and thence through the transom into my division -- all in plainsight. Inside the division, I channeled the wire through the hollow wall moulding to my room. Through a chiseled hole in the door frame I brought the wire into the room. Then I cut a channel in the moulding to the gunrack and countersunk a plug-in connection in the wall of the rack. After filling in over the wire with plastic wood and repainting, the job was complete. The Tactical Department never did discover the wire. After obtaining a telephone from a source that shall be nameless, I was ready to operate first-class. [Ed. Note. Wiring and plug was still intact in room 2712 when this article was published.]
It wasn't long however, before my Tactical Officer got wind of my illegal apparatus. Being a "Prince", he decided to accept the challenge to his ingenuity and try to catch me using it instead of taking unfair advantage of me. It was another case of coffee pot, coffee pot -- where 'ja hide the coffee pot. Somehow or other he discovered the number that I was using, (the TD had devious ways of obtaining information) and attempted to trap me. He went to the nearest phone, which happened to be in the next division and called my number. The conversation went something like this:
"Mole speaking."
"Hello Mr. Lovett, this is Captain Blank. Oh, pardon me just a minute --someone just came in."
Sensing a Tactical Department trick, I immediately unplugged my phone and hid it in the portion of the alcove rail I had hollowed out for that purpose. I had no sooner got back to my desk and picked up a book to fake studying, than in burst the good Captain. We exchanged felicitations and he left. He made several more abortive attempts to confiscate my phone, but never realized success. [Ed. Note. In his obituary it states when the barracks were demolished circa 1973, a phone was found which was cleaned and sent to The Mole.]
The rest of my cadet career was rather uneventful. Other than serving a total of fourteen more months of confinement for various and sundry escapades, nothing of any particular import happened until I graduated in January of 1943. I went to flying training after that, and strange as it may seem, I got through without a mishap.
In 1943 I went to the ETO with the 362 Fighter Group (P-47s). I had amazing success until the spring of 1944 when I got knocked down. I managed to return to a strip and crash landed with six one hundred pound bombs under my wings. Received a broken back and ribs plus the Purple Heart. All the bombs went off but one. No ordinary man could have survived. Invalided home, I soon recovered and got back on flying status. On my first flight after that my engine failed and I was forced to crash land on the Vanderbilt Estate in Rhode Island. It only costs a few more cents to go first class.
That about brings this record up to date. What am I doing now? Well, now what am I best suited for? Being the Provost Marshal at MacDill Field I now catch people who break regulations. You can't win." [Ed. Note. The Mole retired as a LTC in 1961 and died from cancer on 28 July 1991 at age 72. His obituary on page 188 in the September 1993 ASSEMBLY magazine states in part: "He made a great contribution to Air Corps flight but an even greater contribution to West Point legend. They will speak of The Mole and his escapades long after most of us have been forgotten."]
The Mole Lives On
I had the pleasure of heading the Moles in the Fall of 1958. We actually started during Beast in the Summer of '58. I was Supply Sgt. of one of the New Cadet Companies and had to go to the Post Engineers' office for something. There I found a map of the Steam Tunnels, took it back to my room and a couple of us started exploring them at night. (You could travel from the Powerhouse all the way up to the Protestant Chapel which we did one night and Joe played a few bars of "Hail, hail, the gang's all here" on the Chapel organ at midnight. Did we ever run after that! You could also go to the Lost 50's without coming above ground.)
Dan Schrader was part of the group, since he could disassemble the breechblock of a 105 in the dark (the reveille cannon). Reb Bearce, Larry Shuck, Ottie Tibbets, Joe Spivac (ex'60), Dewitt Monroe, and a few others were all part of the group. We started one night by rolling the wheeled cannons off Trophy Point chaining them to the rail around Washington Hall - that's why they are bolted down now - Then went for the breechblock.
We initially tried to replicate MacArthur's feat of putting the entire reveille cannon up on the clock tower, but the cannon frame was bolted down- we actually used to carry tools with us -, and the nuts were welded to the bolts. We had to settle for the breecblock. In turn, we used it to chock the wheels of the Com's car in his driveway, put it in the refrigerator of the 1st Regimental Commander's office in Bldg. 720. Made it part of an ordnance display on the 3rd floor of Thayer Hall.
The piece'd'resistance was hanging it from the Northeast gargoyle on the Clock tower. We used two way radios for that one - I was on the Plain -prone - watching for patrolling MP's, the rest of the crew was up on top of the tower holding onto Spivac's legs while he pushed the wire (we had looped field wire through the block to suspend it) out to the edge of the gargoyle with a broom handle. If you can remember, the thing swung about 20' off the ground until 2pm the following day. (By way of comparison, it took a company of engineers to get the cannon down when MacArthur put it up there).
We also removed all of the furniture from the Mess Hall Poop deck and set it up again just inside the front door.
We were NOT the ones who painted Daddy Thayer's legs. ($.14 from everyone's Regular Account to pay for cleaning him up.)
Tom Leo,'59
Back in 64, there was a steel grating running the length of old Central Area, over which snow would be piled to melt from the steam heat supplied by an underground tunnel. It was possible to walk through this chamber, somewhat stooped, if one were motivated. At the time, 1960-62, I lived in Company B-2, in the 3rd or 4th division barracks, on the north side of old Central. In the sinks (basement) of this barracks was a manhole cover which could be pried open to allow access to a feeder tunnel to the main one. VERY claustrophobic! I think there was also a door under the west sally port, leading to Washington Hall. Any way, once in the system, I went towards South Area and then down towards the power plant under Thayer Hall. The closer one got to the power plant,the larger the steam pipe became and eventually, a light at the end of the tunnel! Every time I heard this phrase during the VN war, this image came to mind! We crept forward until we saw a night supervisor, tilted back in his chair, reading a magazine. We milled around and tried to talk over the noise of the steam plant, but decided to declare victory and crawl back up the tunnel.
I wonder what the world view of the night watchman must have been... sitting there in front of that tunnel going up into the cadet area, hearing the muffled scratchings of unknown cadets clambering among his pipes, with an occasional flash of red retinas reflecting from his reading lamp. I wonder who he was? Did anyone ever get to meet him? What did he think during those lonely nights feeding the steam plant?I know there were many of you who crawled this path, because you left graffiti along your passage. But I don't remember who. And now, the asbestos guys have probably torn this asunder. Damn! Why didn't someone write it all down! Gone....
The steam tunnels were still being utilized in the late '80s. As a plebe I was drafted for a "Spirit Mission" during Army-Navy week. The fearless leader of this operation (who I have no doubt will be a general some day) had a map of the steam tunnels which he had obtained from a former grad. About 5 of us negotiated the tunnels and "borrowed" the '82d's Wall hanging (of the patch) in Eisenhower Hall and brought it back to our TACs office.(The next morning's UN-spirit mission to return it in the light of day between classes, was, well, not as fun.)
It was also possible to go around the central area barracks in the attic or whatever you would call it. I cannot remember how we got up there but you could traverse all of the divisions or at least many of them. There was a lot of graffiti from way, way back. It's not that we had too much free time...just stuck on post on Saturday night without a date caused one to find something different to do.
Click above to sign our Guest Book.