How a Simple Hike Went the Distance To Become One of the Corps’ Most Communal Traditions

It’s a misty spring morning. The sound of chattering cadets as they march together by unit rivals that of the early birds. Since the stars faded from the sky, they’ve been marching from the Quad through grassy Hill Country backroads. Arms swinging, occasionally belting out military jody calls or cracking a joke, the Corps of Cadets are well into the annual 18-mile March to the Brazos. Held before Final Review, the day-long hike takes cadets to the Texas A&M University Beef Center and back. For many, it’s a rite of passage they’ve looked forward to since they began the semester.

Nearly 120 years earlier, residents of College Station would have watched a similar trail of cadets on their way to the Brazos River, this time shouldering their bedroll packs and canteens for a two-day campout. Though the march has taken many forms through the years, when it comes to shaping cadets and strengthening bonds, this tradition has always gone the distance.

Marching Down Memory Lane 

In Texas A&M’s early days, when campus was still an isolated community among the Brazos Valley landscape, cadets had to find their own sources of entertainment. One opportunity presented itself in April Fools’ Day shenanigans, as cadets filled the Academic Building lawn with farm machinery, snuck beehives into section rooms and hardened classroom locks in cement.

In 1909, to busy cadets and avoid potential disruptions on the risky holiday, Commandant Andrew Moses issued General Order 27, mandating a hike out to the Brazos River for additional field training, much to students’ chagrin. And so, each year as March turned to April, the parade of cadets, flanked by the band, cooks and regiment officers, set out on their 6-mile trek to the Brazos.
 

Over the course of their stay, cadets engaged in military drills and exercises. The climax of the campout was a sham battle between different units in preparation for Final Review and actual combat they might one day face as future officers. “The boom of the artillery made us think for a while we were real ‘soldier boys,’ and the prick of a sandbur here and there was sufficient enough to enliven the illusion of bullets,” a 1911 Longhorn yearbook noted wryly. Moses set aside one afternoon for competitive games: catching a greased pig, pie-eating, back-to-back races, wrestling matches and even a beauty contest.

Although the cadets filed out to fields by the Brazos River for a few years, the campsite relocated away from the water after a student tragically drowned in 1912.

When faculty members began offering their own land for the university to use, the hike evolved into a county-wide event: Families trickled in to watch the mock skirmishes, professors shared picnic dinners on the grounds and the Aggie Band would play for an evening of dancing. Not only a chance to test military abilities and occupy time, the hike also helped the Corps form memories with one another and the wider community.

Yet nine years after the hike tradition began, leadership changes in the college and the cloud of World War I led the April Fools’ Day diversion to fizzle out.

Back on Track

But, much like an Aggie, you can’t keep a good tradition down. In 1977, Corps staff decided to revive the tradition, dubbing it “March to the Brazos.” Initially beginning as a fundraiser for the nonprofit March of Dimes, cadets raised money each year with their units to win special prizes — a diamond for their Aggie Ring, tickets to out-of-state football games and a Walkman stereo — or to have special guests like the Dallas Cowboy cheerleaders referee their annual tug-of-war.
 

The symbolism isn’t confined to the march itself. At the halfway point in front of the Texas A&M Beef Center, the units engage in unique “pass down” activities, a series of strenuous exercises with the class above them. Proudly, each class hands down their belts denoting their years to the rising class. When the handshakes have been exchanged and the buses arrive to pick up the graduating seniors, the reality of the cadets’ new roles begins to sink in.

“They start understanding how they need to work together to be successful,” said LtCol. Rob Washington ’95, assistant director for Corps Operations and the coordinator of the march’s logistics.

Forward, March

As in its former days, March to the Brazos remains a community event. Local companies donate lunches and energy drinks for cadets to share after their commemorative pass-down. Diligent crews prepare for and clean up after the event. Some residents generously allow the Corps to trek through their fields, like professors did a century earlier.
 

When they look around, cadets can’t help but see the community of peers who have encouraged them throughout their time in the Corps. “They go out there together like family,” Washington smiled.

True leaders aren’t formed overnight; over years of training and mentorship, the Corps of Cadets shapes men and women who know the weight of responsibility and the power of unity, and the march plays an important part in the journey. For Washington, the exuberance on cadets’ faces at the end of the hike is priceless. “They’ve turned the page and see all the possibility,” he said. “They realize that it’s a whole new chapter in their Corps career.”