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Updated: May 20, 2025
In the dark this material for bonfires that never were lighted looked like so many spectral reminders of their recent defeat. It hurt! It always hurts either the cadets or the midshipmen to lose the Army-Navy game. Once back at quarters in Bancroft Hall, it seemed to many of the midshipmen as though it would have been a relief to have to go to study tables to work.
"Are we?" demanded Dave. "Belle, don't you know what the Army-Navy game on the Saturday after Thanksgiving Day is like? The entire brigade of midshipmen and the whole corps of cadets travel over to Philadelphia. There, on Franklin Field, before an average of thirty thousand yelling spectators, the great annual game of the two great national academies is fought out."
Dave is on the Navy football team. So is Dan Dalzell! Both have gone in at the eleventh hour." "Great Scott!" breathed Greg, rising to his feet. "I wonder if we're going to be placed on the line where we'll have to bump 'em in the Army-Navy game?" "We may be, if we get on the line," uttered Prescott, as he finished the epistle. "Here, Greg, read it for yourself.
There was always something doing over at the Academy, and as Mrs. Harold's guest, Peggy was naturally included. At present football practice was absorbing the interest of the Academic world and its friends, for in a few weeks the big Army-Navy game would take place up in Philadelphia and Mrs. Harold had already invited Peggy to go to it with her party.
"In connection with Army-Navy games," writes Crolius of Dartmouth, "I'll never forget Mike Murphy's wonderful ability to read men's condition by their 'mental attitude. He was nearly infallible in his diagnosis." Once we questioned Mike. He said, "Go get last year's money back, you're going to lick them!" And true to his uncanny understanding he was right.
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