TRIBUTES AND LESSONS LEARNED
The following comments have been
extracted from the book "WEST POINT
REVISITED; Reminiscences of the Class of 1946, 50
Years Later"; authored by John C. McWhorter,
Jr., MG, U.S. Army, Retired, Class of 1946.
The three years at West Point
were long and tough but very rewarding for the
Class of 1946. As with most difficult things in
life, it is an experience that involves much
pride of accomplishment; but at the same time, it
is one most would not like to repeat. From fifty
years out, sometimes some of the things
experienced seem beyond belief. Several members
of the Class provided comments concerning the
effect their West Point experience had on their
lives. These are included without attribution for
it is the opinion of the author that in the main,
they reflect the feelings of the entire Class.
"Has not the pride in
ourselves, associates, accomplishments and Duty,
Honor, and Country been the mainstay of our lives
- both in and out of the military. Could one ask
for more?"
"My time at West Point had
a very profound effect on my years later as a
man. The words Duty, Honor, Country burned
indelibly in my mind and made an impression there
like nothing else ever can. It gave me
self-discipline to control all my desires and a
feeling of duty for obligations which come to me.
It influenced greatly my broadening sense of
values as I learned to accept life's
responsibility. The Honor System taught me that
truth is always right and that honesty never
fails to pass the test."
"For all of us, the cadet
experience was probably the single most important
factor in our lives, but its impact was complex
and each of us reacted in our own way."
"Duty, Honor, Country. I
can't say that my sense of Duty was changed much
by West Point as I had been a fairly serious guy
trying to do his best. My sense of Honor was good
before West Point, but the Academy experience
certainly solidified it. Country: Patriotism was
always strong, but West Point enhanced it."
"One tremendous benefit to
me has been the increased degree of
self-confidence. The training in standing before
others, in taking charge of situations when
appropriate, and in keeping organized has been
very helpful. Also important is the knowledge
within me and the acknowledgment of others that I
came from a very special place. The West Point
image is important and each of us graduates
benefits from it."
"All of us can be thankful
for the comprehensiveness of our education at
West Point. What other institution teaches
physics and skiing, foreign language and
horsemanship, statistics and fencing, solid
geometry and marksmanship, drafting and river
crossings, law and telephone-pole climbing, how
to lead and how to follow, strength of materials
and strength of character? The list is endless.
And, perhaps most remarkable, applies to every
single graduate. Thank you West Point!"
"I have derived a lifetime
benefit from the strange USMA academic system.
Cadets essentially taught themselves by studying
and following instructions; and I believe I am
still able to do that. My three years at West
Point were hard and demanding times, but through
the blur of memory, I have a feeling of
happiness, pride, comradeship and contentment. I
am proud to be a West Pointer. Those years of
intensive training and education added to the
devoted guidance of loving parents and a close
caring family together afforded me a solid
foundation from which to launch into life. I do
believe the West Point ideals of Duty, Honor,
Country were seriously ingrained into my
character."
"West Point was my defining
experience. It focused and solidified my
character and the way I've tried to live my
life."
"Our common shared
experiences forge a Corps of Brothers, of
comrades for life, determined to add honor to
West Point and excellence in the performance of
our duties in the service to our beloved country.
Truly those experiences bonded with the history,
heritage, customs and traditions and
accomplishments of the Corps of Graduates has
instilled the 'Spirit of West Point' within each
of us."
End of '46 comments
Jasper J ("Jap")
Wilson was a math instructor while we were
cadets. He had received rapid promotion during
WWII to the grade (if I remember correctly) of
lieutenant colonel at age 26. I was to work with
him twice later in my career. He was one of those
few people gifted with the brilliance to cut
through the smoke put out by others (no matter
how senior!), and to chop off all that was
extraneous in order to arrive at the heart of the
matter. He could see what was REALLY needed and
said so in the most direct of terms. No matter
the toadies who were offended by his logic! This
was a man who influenced the outcome by his blunt
decisiveness, and let the chips fall where they
may. He was a leader whom I would have followed
to the very gates of Hell! Jap understood Vietnam
better than any American. Westmoreland must have
seen this, too. He made Jap his senior aide.
Another at West Point who
influenced me greatly was Colonel Don Blackburn
who, when our forces in the Philippines fell to
the Japanese, avoided capture, organized a
guerilla force, and -- for four long
years -- fought the Japanese until
our forces returned. His was a tremendous example
of will. He taught us never to give up!
The greatest influence upon any
of us was the Honor system. Whenever a West
Pointer says that the situation is thus and so,
look at it carefully and you will see that it is
EXACTLY thus and so. We can not have it any other
way. Lives depend upon it. Bruce
My life was changed inexorably
through the efforts a member of the West Point
English faculty. I entered West Point with
a stuttering problem that had been part of my
life since early adolescence. I was able to
get through High School because I did not need to
do much public speaking or reading. At West
Point, however, I faced significant challenges
when presenting papers, taking boards in math,
reporting to the man in the red sash, saying
Plebe poop, etc. The Upper Class cadet
response as a plebe was to increase the heat on
the flame, which caused me to stumble more.
Even after plebe year, I continued to struggle
with this speech problem.
I was assigned to his
class. He knew all about overcoming
physical issues. He lost half his foot in
Vietnam yet remained on active duty even when he
could have received a disability discharge.
In addition, he knew how important communications
skills were in the Army and how my stuttering
problem would have hampered my ability to lead
soldiers. He saw potential in me and initiated a
program to help me learn to speak without
stuttering. He volunteered to spend two to
three afternoons per week of his free time to
work with me on techniques to overcome my
impediment. We started from the basics of
speech and identified what my problems
were. We then identified ways to eliminate
or at least circumvent the problems. He
assigned me speeches, readings, and other
presentations, first in front of him, then a
small group, then the class, and finally in front
of a large number of classmates. With his
help, I was able to overcome my problem.
I was fortunate enough to work
for him when he was Squadron Commander of 3/7 CAV
in Germany. It was rewarding for me to see
his caring attitude and honor extended to his
leadership style and techniques in the "Real
Army". I also think it was rewarding
to him to see me brief the Division Commander and
staff on the status of the Squadron's
communications equipment without stuttering.
I use the techniques he taught
me to this very day. Additionally, I try to
model his leadership, values and caring attitude
every day. He truly embodies the spirit of
West Point and the Army.
Thanks for this opportunity to
share this story.
Glen Ledeboer
To me the spirit of the Long
Gray Line depends not on an atom of gold but on
the people who have gone before and who now join
together with the Line. I like it that my ring
looks like a West Point graduate's ring and that
our classmate designed it and that our class
voted to approve the design. I love The Long Gray
Line because of the deeds of service to our
country done with honor and for enjoying many of
those who served and who serve. It is similar to
the feeling that springs from my family. After I
no longer can wear it , my family, who have lived
close to the Long Gray Line for much of their
lives, will dispose of the ring thoughtfully and
as they wish.
For me it is (present tense,
still use it) this very simple statement: "I
can do anything, one step at a time." I
remember saying it over and over again heading to
classes or situations I dreaded. I used it
sometimes as my breathing rhythm for running and
swimming. It reminded me that no matter what had
to be done, it could never be done faster than
that, though granted some steps had to be pretty
fast.
Joan-Marie (Zech) Gerth, '80
I entered West Point in the
summer of 1971 as a headstrong high school jock
whose arrogance crowded an already inflated ego.
The new and strange environment in which I now
found myself would trigger a rebellion, the
consequences of which would jeopardize both my
career as a Cadet and my future.
So called "Plebe Poop"
was ridiculous, my memorization of it was shoddy.
As a result, on more than one occasion a meal
consisted of a generous helping of toothpaste
after I'd left the mess hall (detailed in my
Forum post, "All the Admirals in the Whole
Damned Navy").
Passing by a classmate's room
and hearing what I considered an untoward remark,
I took a few moments to pummel him with my fists.
In an altercation over boodle, I
crippled one of my roommates by providing the
impetus for him to go through the glass in the
latrine door
("All the Admirals...").
What better place to answer the
call of testosterone than a room at the Hotel
Thayer? Or a young lady's room at Ladycliff,
after hours, just outside the main gate? Or in an
apartment in Newburgh, after a rousing game of
eight ball and a six pack in a smokey roadhouse,
between taps and reveille.
An individual's negative
attitudes will eventually turn on their owner
like a poorly trained attack dog. My Tactical
Officer proved prolific in generating
administrative responses to my various challenges
of "The System". Through a series of
shrewd, tactical maneuvers, he was also able to
marshall my family and what conscience I
possessed as forces against my self destructive
habits.
Inevitably, through the power of
peer evaluations (poop sheets), my classmates
said "Enough!" and I found myself in a
chair opposite a stern faced panel of officers.
These were grim, scar faced men with fuel-drum
chests pressing hard against the buttons of their
medal heavy uniforms. This was the Commandant's
Aptitude Board. This was the group of men who
would decide what, if any, future remained for me
at West Point and in the military. In a strange
sense, I was proud to be in that room that day.
If anyone were to decide anything regarding my
future, let it be men such as these. They were
giants. Their mere presence commanded respect.
And their peer, in character if not in military
rank, would be my savior that day. My Tactical
Officer made the case that I had the potential to
contribute much to the military and that he would
make it his personal mission to realize that
potential.
And so, I was allowed to
continue as a Cadet.
In the summer of my Cow year,
Ranger School was made available as a training
option. This was an elite selection; only one
Cadet from each battalion would be sent. I
approached my Tactical Officer and told him I
wanted to be a Ranger. His response should not
have been unexpected - he laughed. I made it
clear I was serious, however, and he reluctantly
said he would consider my request, but, in light
of my history, I should definitely have second
and third choices prepared.
It was several days later that I
was ordered to my Tac's office.
"Darrow", he commanded, "I'm
sending you to Ranger School. But, and understand
me well, if you come back without earning The Tab
for any reason other than medical, pack your
bags. Is that clear?"
It was.
When I reemerged from the bowels
of Hell at Fort Benning, I had earned an
evaluation that apparently fulfilled my Tac's
expectations of me. He was very pleased, he said,
though not surprised and he would see to it that
the evaluation would stand me in good stead.
While never a model Cadet,
Ranger School and my Tac did much to change my
attitude toward West Point. Though full
appreciation of both experiences was still
decades away, enough sense had seeped into my
skull that I was able to make it to graduation.
The day I drove out Thayer Gate
I pulled my new, cherry red Firebird Formula 400
over next to a pay phone in Highland Falls. I
called my Tac...called him and thanked him for
what he had done for me. It had been much.
My military career was short. It
was abbreviated by a stand I took early on based
upon principles I had internalized at West Point
and in Ranger School (detailed in my Forum post
"For Lack of Discipline"). But, were it
not for my Tac, it was a career which would never
have been.
Who was this man that placed his
own career and professional reputation in
jeopardy for a "hard case" Cadet? Who
took the extra time and made the effort to
realize something he believed he saw in one of
his charges? He is a man to whom I owe a debt
that I can never repay. One whose character is
such that the notions of "owe" and
"repayment" would never enter his
thoughts.
His name is Seth F. Hudgins, Jr.
You may have heard of him.
Dempsey N. Darrow
USMA 1975
The two following entries are from Mike Maloney, Class of 1947.
General Maxwell Taylor (Superintendent for most of our stay) was the most
impressive officer that I encountered at West Point. Intelligent, Bulge
veteran, tennis player, erudite -- he epitomized everything I had hoped to become in the Army. At his home one evening, he asked a group of us if we thought the A-Bomb (both dropped about 3 months earlier) would become a major weapon in future wars!! I opined NO and that it would end up as GAS did after WWI. He said it would because so much of a country's wherewithal would be involved in producing them. Interesting interchange, eh??
The thing that stands out most about my life at West Point is the quality
and character of my classmates.
John L. Throckmorton, in 1947-48. had been an O-6 in WW II, like others
busted down to O-5, at USMA as a Tac (not mine) and coach and OIC of the
rifle team, of which I was a member. Outstanding officer, coach and example
to cadets.
Things that impressed, then and later:
I fancied myself a pretty good squash player and challenged him my first
class year---he whipped my butt!
Ten months after graduation, stationed at Langley AFB as an AF
ground-pounder, I volunteered for jump school at Benning in a two week
hurry-up program to initiate the airborne FAC program, to be tested in May 1949 at Bragg in Exercise Tarheel. J.L. Throckmorton had just gone through the normal five week program and, as a field grade officer, had been offered a somewhat reduced PT program. He refused it and laid out the PT program he had already worked up to-----it was tougher than that of the last week of jump school.
I went on to flying school and flew fighters, 13 years off jump status. In 1961, a new CG-TAC re-vitalized the FAC program and I went back on status. In 1963, my F-104 outfit was TDY from George AFB to Myrtle Beach for about six weeks, working a joint exercise in which J.L. Throckmorton was CG of either the 82nd or the 101st-I forget which. After the exercise, prior to flying back to George, I called him via land-line to ask to jump with his outfit on a planned non-tactical jump, two days away.
Here he disappointed me---he turned me down, basically because he knew
nothing about my proficiency---maybe he didn't trust the USAF to monitor our proficiency.
On later reflection, I decided he was right, although I was quite
proficient at the time.
Another point---Mrs. Throckmorton was a delightful lady, one who made a
cadet feel almost as if he were in his own home.
Final point-he was what we called "Hard but fair", a perfect example of a
leader, a credit to USMA and to the Army.
/s/ Morton C. Mumma III
Colonel, USAF (re)
USMA 1948
Colonel Thayer
Otto Meerbott, '46
When I stroll along Diagonal Walk
I seldom fail to pause
To survey the upright image of
The maker of the laws
That survive the caustic test of years
Of critical review,
And remain the basic theme that keeps
Our institution new.
In the eye-hurt white of winter time
When snow packs gild his form,
In the shaded green of summer's wealth
When sun streaks splash and warm,
I see profound integrity
In icy eyes that awe,
And fierce determination in
A bold, assertive jaw.
I see unhid by sprawling cape
The man with saint-like zeal
Who designed the fruitful pattern,
Who set the high ideal.
I see a stone grey gentleman
Whose vision, strength, and heart
Invested every vital gift
His being could impart
To provide a fitting citadel
Of soldiers, scholars, men,
Who would rise to stem the foreign threat
Then live at peace again.
To the figure then in tasseled sash,
Tight buttoned blouse of grey,
I bow my head in reverence and
Continue on my way.
Josiah Bunting made a significant impression by developing my
understanding of the intellectual side of life in three courses. I had him
for 3d class Social Science Course and on his recommendation took his
electives in Tudor-Stuart England and Historiography. He always made
difficult subjects clear in his analysis of them. I will never forget the
Final in Historiography: We had enough money to take two historians to
dinner in London. The test required us to construct their dinner
conversation in a way that showed their personal views ofd how history
should be written. When I served on the Faculty as a Major I tried to bring
some of the spark he gave me to my students in West European Politics. But
of course I'm no Bunting. I've followed his exploits as leader of VMI facing
major social changes.
John P. Rainier, '72
My education at WP was fantastic. The faculty that taught me was truly
outstanding. I'd like to give you some examples:
CPT Kenneth Privratsky: Advanced Plebe English. Vietnam veteran
transferred from Infantry to the Transportation Corps. He was a hard grader
and made no concessions to kindness. He was also deeply passionate about
literature. I only failed my first four papers (remember this is Advanced
English, you had to pass a validation exam to get in) before finally getting
a C. I got a B in that course and it was the lowest grade of my entire four
years. I managed to get an A the next semester and learned to love Faulkner
in the process. As I sat staring at the full program of courses for a
concentration in Engineering Mechanics during yearling year (about twelve
hours before the deadline for declaring a concentration) I thought back on
how stimulating and challenging that class was and opted for American
Studies, Literature Option instead.
CPT George Higgins: Infantry, younger than Privratsky but utterly
professional in every way. Had commanded a company in the 24th Infantry
Division. He taught philosophy with a reverence and respect that was
contagious. He always referred to Plato as "Mister Plato." He was so good
that I had him as a guest at Honor Instruction more than once when I was a
cow and a firstie honor rep. He received a Phi Kappa Phi teaching award
while on the faculty. That fact made my own receipt of the same award a
number of years later that much sweeter. Both he and Privratsky are Major
Generals today.
Major MacIver: Advanced Physics: Gave those of us enrolled in his class a
magnificent gift. He taught us LaGrangian mechanics, thereby opening a door
onto the world of physics beyond classical Laplacian determinism. It
planted a seed the same way that Privratsky planted the seed of Faulkner in
my mind. I learned later that MacIver was deeply disappointed at not being
selected to return to the faculty permanently. The person who bested him in
the competition was John Campbell, the Deputy Head of the Physics Department
when I arrived back there to teach. MacIver did retire as a full colonel.
Major John Calabro: (We all know where he is now) Another rising star of
the English faculty when I was a cadet. Merciless grader. By this time I
was a cow English concentrator and thought pretty highly of myself. My
first paper for him was a C-. I remember a marginal comment on about page 3
saying "Are you going to make a point soon?" I ended the painful
progression towards A work with a paper that established that Thomas Paine's
tract "The Age of Reason" amounted to an attempt at an ontological proof of
the existence of God. I never savored an A grade more than I did the grade
on that paper.
COL Jack Capps: I cannot begin to convey what a profound influence he was.
He was the epitome of a gentleman. He is a kind man with great empathy. I
remember visiting him in his office at the end of the term once and stacked
on the conference table were piles of final examinations. He read and
regraded the exam of every cadet that failed a course in the department. In
those days about 10% of the plebe class failed English Composition, so he
set a formidable task for himself. The responsibility was his, and so was
the duty. There was a lesson in that. I'll always cherish the modern
poetry course I took with him. I stayed in touch over the years. We still
exchange cards at Christmas. When I was in Maryland and New York we visited
them in Pennsylvania a couple of times. My wife invited them down to Bowie,
MD for my graduation from UM when I got my M.S. in physics. They made the
drive. I will never forget that act of kindness and warmth. He never
expressed a moments regret that I had not chosen to return to the English
faculty despite the kind invitation of his successor:
COL Peter Stromberg: I took the Hemingway Seminar from him when I was a
firstie. We didn't meet for half the term. The assignment was to read all
of Hemingway and then on the first meeting we had a mid term exam. The rest
of the class periods were given over one each to each cadet to deliver their
seminar paper. Today, it seems that no one reads anything without an
agenda, but we were allowed to explore the sheer beauty of Hemingway's
writing. He was breathtaking, and there was no better way to know that than
to read all of it comparatively.
Finally, but most importantly, LTC Tom Johnson. He graduated in 65 and went
in the Air Force. He became a plasma physicist, getting his degrees from
the UC Davis program that was run by Edward Teller out of LLNL. He returned
to WP to teach philosophy, however. Incidentally, he was a magnificent
poet. Three of my most prized possessions are three manuscript poems that
he gave me when I was a firstie. I don't think he ever knew how much they
meant to me, he just wanted criticism. I met him in a poetry course (he
co-taught the course with Capps) cow year and he befriended me soon after.
He learned that I liked science and encouraged me to keep my options open.
I used two free electives firstie year to take two courses intended for
Physics Majors. One was taught by Tom's classmate, also an Air Force
Officer, Tom Genoni. It was the team of Johnson and Genoni that told COL
Winkel he should seek me out for the Physics Faculty 7 years later. Since I
had nothing in my file that would indicate such leanings, Winkel would
probably never have asked me otherwise. And now I am in school preparing
for a return engagement on the Physics Faculty. I spent many of my weekend
leaves as a Firstie at the Johnson's home in Cornwall. The free time to sit
in his study and just browse the many books and listen to classical music
was more like heaven than anything else that you can experience within 20
miles of WP. From him I truly learned to love books, to cherish them as if
they were best friends. His graveside is one of the first places I visited
when I returned there in 1992. It is the first place I will go when I
arrive there again in 2001.
The faculty I studied with was magnificent in most respects. I can remember
just as many bad P's as good ones, but they don't count. They really can't
do much harm to a conscientious student, as far as I can tell. The good
ones, though, made my education at WP an incredibly rich intellectual
journey. Few will believe it, but I was truly sorry to leave.
Those named above a lot of difference in my life. I found them all over
the place, and I would stack them up against any professors anywhere in the
world.
Ray Nelson, '83
PART 1
My father, Frank F. Groseclose, was a ROTC graduate of Virginia Tech, a
former professor of mechanical engineering at North Carolina State
College, an officer in the Army reserves, and serving in a Field Artillery
Replacement Battalion at Ft. Bragg in 1942 when he was ordered to West Point
as an instructor in the Mechanics Department. The department head was Col.
Oscar J. Gatchell, Class of 1912.
Dad was released from has duties at West Point in July 1945 and headed to
Atlanta to take a position at Georgia Tech. I was in the Army at Ft
Benning when I was notified that I had been accepted as a cadet at West
Point. We passed each other somewhere in the night heading in the opposite
directions.
I entered West Point in 1945, Class of '48, a wartime three year class. I
endured a good bit of hazing and even wrote a letter (which I never
mailed) home indicating my desire to quit, but managed to stay until I
was "found" by the English Department. One evening before I left West
Point I got a call to report to Cadet Headquarters. When I got there I
found Col. Gatchell waiting for me.
I reported to him and he asked me to take a seat. We talked briefly. I
don't remember the details, but what he said was that I had been a good
cadet and that he wanted me to come back. If he had not taken the trouble to
talk to me, I don't know if I would have ever taken the reentrance exam. The
war was over, so there where plenty of other opportunities. He is the reason
I am a member of "The Long Gray Line".
PART 2
I have another memory of Col. Gatchell. One day I was asked to report to
his quarters. There I found two or three other cadets and a young ex-Army
officer, Cleo Buxton. He had been released from the Army after serving
during WWII in England. While in England he had become acquainted with The
Officer's Christian Union, an organization of Christian officers that
encouraged prayer and Bible study in the British armed forces. He had
recently started a similar organization in the American armed forces and was
its executive director. With Col. Gatchell's help that day, a chapter of The
American Officer's Christian Union was founded at West Point. To my
knowledge the chapter is still active, but now is called the Officer's
Christian Fellowship.
PART 3
This a bit of humor but still a faculty item.
After a re-sectioning, I found myself in last section of plebe English.
The instructor was Capt. George T. Campbell, Jr., Class of June '43. On
the first day of class in the new section, Capt. Campbell called the
roll. When he got to my name, he said, "Well, Mr. Groseclose, are you any
kin to the Col. Groseclose who used to teach mechanics?"
I said, "Yes sir, he is my father."
Capt. Campbell said, "You my be interested to know that your father had
me in last section mechanics."
To which I said, "Turn about, sir."
And he replied, "Well, I hope that there will be fair play!"
Too which I might add, there was fair play. I did well in his class. It
was the instructor of the next re-sectioning who "found" me.
Robert P. Groseclose, 1950, 17871.
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