WEST POINT, N.Y. — Nearly four years later, Kenneth Brinson is still awed with the memory of his first moments at the United States Military Academy. He was herded into Eisenhower Hall along with the rest of the soon-to-be-plebes. He was welcomed briefly by a member West Point’s military command and told of his mission.

Then an upper-class cadet stepped forward. “You have 90 seconds to say goodbye,” he directed.

By the time Brinson scrambled to give his mother, Lucretia, a farewell hug, he was four minutes into 47 months of becoming — hopefully — a second lieutenant in the United States Army. By the end of that June day, Brinson had a buzz cut and a rhythm for precision marching. “They call it inculcating you with West Point values,” he said of those first hours at the academy, “and it was like — bam! — you start right now.”

By the end of the summer, Brinson knew how to handle a weapon, the importance of the chain of command and, most important, that he was where he was supposed to be. Some classmates fell out; others were run down physically and drowning in their academics.

Not Brinson. By the end of his first semester, he was at the top of his class. He was even hopeful about the prospects for Army football. He and his teammates had finished 2-10 that first season and had lost to archrival Navy for a 14th consecutive year, but Brinson saw better days ahead.