Greg Barras
(13 OCT 1932, 17 APR 1979)
Greg Barras Eulogies
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Eulogy
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Barras Plaque
(45th Reunion, 2000)
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B - 1
1st Row: Pirkey, Craven, Follett, Reb Young, Andrews, Hagedorn
2nd Row: Finley, Sutton, Barras, McCloskey
3rd Row: Ordway, Cosca, Regnier (CO), Walton
4th Row: Chance, Sechrist, Bossert, Dinwiddie, Jack Campbell
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Ordway, Barras, Chance, Follett, Instructor (JUL 1953)
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At West Point, Greg was a class-mate, a company-mate and a friend. After graduation, he went Air Force, I went Army and our paths never crossed again. But I know he continued to be a gentleman and serve our country with pride. There is no question he was a true hero. So Greg, Thank you and be thou at peace. Jack Campbell April 30 (1999) Well done, Greg. Be thou at peace. Tom Auger 55 April 30 (1999) HIGH FLIGHT John Gillespie Magee,Jr Oh, I have slipped the surley bonds of earth And danced the skys on laughter-silvered wings; Sunward I've climbed, and joined the tumbling mirth Of sun-split clouds, and done a hundred things You have not dreamed of, wheeled and soard and swung High in the sunlit silence, Hov'ring there, I have chased the shouting wind along, and flung My eager craft through footless halls of air. Up, up the long, delirious burning blue I've topped the windswept heights with easy grace Where never lark, or even eagle flew. And, while with silent, lifting mind I've trod The high untrespassed sanctity of space, Put out my hand, and touched the face of God. God's speed Greg, Bob Russell (MAY 1 (1999) Greg was a consummate pilot and an outstanding officer. As a new arrival at NKP, our base in Thailand, I was personally greeted by Greg on arrival and made welcome. He was in a different Squadron from mine, but he did everything possible to make my tour comfortable and memorable. He was revered by his squadron mates, and his loss was felt by all who knew him. It is a blessing to know that after all this time and uncertainty, this very fine officer and gentleman is finally laid to rest at USMA, a place he loved. Be Thou at peace, Greg; Well done! Charles W. Roades (MAY 3 (1999) Greg Barras was the last person on earth who would have claimed to be a hero, but a hero he most surely was. I knew him all too briefly as we went through the rigors of West Point as classmates in Company B-1 from 1951) to 1955). For part of one semester of our plebe year, we were roommates. A true son of the Deep South, bom and raised in Mississippi, he never did get used to the icy West Point winters. Plebe year began rather awkwardly for Greg, in that he spent a few weeks in the hospital (he broke his leg in wrestling class), and shortly after he returned to the Company he had. to go home for his father's funeral. Soon after that Greg and I became roommates when our original company clerk, another classmate, ran afoul of the Honor Code. When we were all asked who could type I said I could, and immediately was appointed as the new company clerk. We became roommates at that time, perhaps because he had a typewriter and I did not. He was the first person I knew who had been through Rat Year at VMI before entering West Point. I thought that showed a marked degree of courage on his part. He was basically a no-nonsense person, but he had a keen sense of humor. Just thinking of the Roadrunner and Coyote of the movie cartoons made him chuckle. His accounts of the TV antics of Sid Caesar and Imogene Coca, which he had seen while in the hospital, made us all chuckle. Plebes had little or no chance to watch TV in those days. We often sat together at football games, cheering for the Army Team. Never one to toot his own horn, he just went about the business of being a good cadet. He was rewarded by being named Company First Sergeant First Class year. He (MAY have growled at the underclassman who tacked a 'First Sergeant's Office" sign on the latrine door, but he had to have been a little bit tickled by their prank. He and I lived in rooms across the hall from one another that year and we managed many a bull session when we weren't struggling with our studies. I am proud to have known him and wish I had known him longer and better. We never saw each other after graduation, since he went into the Air Force and I joined the Army. Our career paths never again crossed. I have thought of him often, especially since hearing that he was missing in action. His name has always come up at our class reunions. When I read the announcement that his remains were being returned for burial, I resolved to be there if at all possible. It was a genuine honor for me to be present at his burial at West Point for a final salute, along with five other classmates. Three of us were from Company B-1: Don Andrews, Zach Hagedorn and myself. Rest in Peace, Greg. Jack McCloskey (MAY 17 (1999) Denny Cosca, Greg and I were roommates and close friends from Yearling year through graduation. From the time we first met, Greg was determined to fly in the Air Force. He never wavered. The venerable Senator John Stennis, Chairman of the Armed Services Committee, had appointed Greg to West Point after a military high school and, I believe, a year at VMI. I remember Greg each year writing a careful progress report to the Senator. A loyal son of Mississippi and the South, Greg complained darkly about Hudson Valley winters. A characteristic memory is Greg bundled in both b-robe and red-boy, poring over a recalcitrant German language text across our big three-way study desk in the evening. One snapshot in my album shows him puffing at one end of our room thermometer, convinced he was beset by the flu in this hostile Yankee climate. Greg was fond of the mild but explosive sounding German epithets he brought back from class. He applied them at minimal provocation, often striking terror into Plebes who missed the twinkle-eyed chuckle that always followed. I remember him as austere and private but also warm and good-humored. At a serious level, Greg was totally devoted to West Point and a future career as officer and pilot. Unlike his roommates, he never doubted his professional vocation. He had made those choices confidently quite early in life. Military bearing, discipline and decisiveness seemed second nature. During First Class year he was a stem, efficient, competent Company First Sergeant, who dispatched his considerable responsibilities with common sense and fairness. Greg always seemed to know his own mind with independent assurance, never dithered. That included choosing a car First Class spring. When most of us followed the lemmings toward Chevies and Fords, Greg held out for a dignified two-tone Olds 88. Another snapshot shows him grinning with pride in his new acquisition when the two of us drove over to Providence on weekend leave to visit a friend at Brown. I had the pleasure of escorting Greg's lovely young sister Joanne to a June Week hop. Sadly for me, after that relaxed week of family friendship and exuberant transition I never saw Greg again. After the joyous pinning on of our new gold bars, we suddenly scattered off to graduation leave with just a smile and a wave. Then it was Sill, Benning and three years in Germany for me, while Greg followed his great dream and destiny to Flight School. We exchanged Christmas cards each year, with just a few words about our different paths. Nor did I meet Mary Lu or their children except by Christmas snapshots. In the depth of our national convulsion in Vietnam, I knew vaguely that Greg was flying out of Thailand. Then came the grim news he was MIA, in ominous circumstances; and slowly my hope faded despite Mary Lu's brave optimism. Remembering Greg Barras as an earnest cadet and dedicated soldier, I think first of his uncompromising loyalty: to family, friends and colleagues; to Duty, Honor and Country. His Alma Mater had no more devoted or courageous son. He lived her motto to his core. His country, and all of us who shared some of his days, are enriched by his example and his sacrifice. Well done, old friend. Be thou at peace. Dave Finley September 3 (1999) Greg died a warrior's death. He is one of the our class's heros. (MAY his soul rest in peace. Bill Welter August 6, 2000) I didn't know you. I wrapped a POW-MIA bracelet around my right wrist in 1972) and removed it only after your remains were declared returned. YOU ARE NOT FORGOTTEN Vicky Stephens MMS, PA-C April 8, 2004) |
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