 |
MEMORIAL ARTICLE
Published Assembly Apr '89
Wilfred Everett Gassett No. 15628
Class Of 1946 Died 15 June 1947 On Hawk's Mountain,
Vermont, Aged 24 Years. Interment: Long Island National Cemetery,
Farmingdale, New York |
It has been a long while, too long, since the death of Wilfred
Gassett. After the greater and lesser degrees of shock, there
remain time-firmed memories. Because Bill reminded us of ourselves,
who wanted the future to owe us something, and who owed everything
to the future, we want to picture him for ourselves.
Those who read Time magazine's cryptic summary of a B-29 crash
on 15 June 1947, "Dead - twelve," may not have known
Bill Gassett was among the twelve. Death does not particularly
inspire writing unless the subject is a classical tragedy. All
the proclivities of Bill Gassett pointed to the contrary, a useful
existence. The plane was finishing a cross country training flight
from Davis-Monthan Army Air Field to Bedford, Massachusetts,
encountered heavy fog across upper New York and New England,
and, searching for bearings, dipped low into the Connecticut
River Valley. Discovering the river, the crew attempted a sharp
climb, but failed the attempt. Several of us were waiting nervously
after early sketchy radio news reports as authorities tried to
trace the plane's actions.
Bill crashed into the granite face of a Vermont mountain,
a scene reflecting his stern character. This was the territory
that nurtured him, emblematic of his personal qualities.
He was educated at Brockton High School and Lawrence Academy
in Massachusetts. Between times he spent three summers at the
Culver Academy summer school. The presidency of his high school
class, debate and Bible knowledge awards were an indication of
his leadership ability, but the extent of his teaching and soldierly
capacities was shown when he was asked to be a naval instructor
at the Culver Naval School after two cadet summers there. While
an odd beginning for an Army career, he first intended to go
to Annapolis. Encouraged by his father (an engineer in World
War I) since early youth to attend a service academy, he tried
twice to win a USMA appointment. After a year at Norwich University
and a third civil service examination, Representative Richard
B. Wigglesworth (MA) offered him appointment to the Military
Academy; acceptance led him to West Point 1 July 1943.
In this huge wartime class, Bill had an advantage; this was
his third plebe experience and he romped apace through exercises
of every sort. In his studying, his running, and his academic
coaching, the few persons whom a plebe had to know liked Wilfred,
and the upperclassmen rated him highly.
It was not surprising, therefore, that he was made a corporal
during yearling summer. The single stripe was forfeited by a
hairline late arrival after taps at Pine Camp in 1944. Complications
were enough to condemn him to months of "walking" and
confinement. However, Will always concentrated on qualities which
he felt were essential in a man and a soldier. Strength of character,
determination, driving himself to all manner of perfection were
his prime considerations. His reaction to punishment was exemplary;
he never rebelled against it, that was simply bad fortune to
him; he wasted no time complaining about his lot.
He turned in sterling performances on the track and football
teams, on the handball court, as an air cadet who had to work
at flying, and the administrator of his company's graduation
affairs. It is still fun to recall the "I-Co May Day Show"
which Wilfred organized and stage managed. Somehow E-2 had inherited
the tradition (is it still performed?) wherein the plebes must
write and present a review on the stoops, in 1944 before division
49. Typical of harried plebes, the preparations were chaotic,
talented, unrehearsed, a mess despite Will's efforts. Typical
of Will, the show was hilarious and warmly applauded by some
500 cadets standing in that area. We close to him marveled at
his having avoided disaster.
We've described only two ambitions, manliness and accomplishing
the ends in life which he felt were worthwhile. Bill's father
was a tempering, but not sole influence; Bill was too much an
individual for that. A third was the result of love for Jean
Nicoll, a love which grew during his three cadet years. They
had known each other for many years in Brockton, and there they
were married during graduation leave in June 1946.
It was hard work combining pilot training with marriage, but
it certainly offered recompense. Bill always loved hard work
and, given time, his driving power probably would have solved
all difficulties. In this, the largest endeavor of his life,
he was granted little time. He lived just long enough to be overjoyed
at the birth of his son (May 1947), Wilfred Everett, Jr.. Here
was to be another consuming interest, devotion, and ambition
in his life.
He was an air cadet at a time when West Pointers were inclined
to look upon pilots as "sky chauffeurs." Although many
persons scorned it as beneath the worth of an engineering intellect,
Gassett felt that so vital a wartime branch demanded the best
long-range planning and administration, and flying was essential
to an understanding of the branch. The service lost a man with
a generous portion of pioneering instinct. Although the pioneering
days seemed long past even then, the changes in air planning,
importance, and strategy testify to Bill's foresight.
The most oft-voiced sentiment about Wilfred's death was that
his classmates could not realize the death of a man with such
determination to do his best always, a prime motivation of worthwhile
living. His early death was one of many in the Air Corps training
of the wartime classes, all testimony to the price of eternal
vigilance. We look now at TV's World War II films, many that
we saw as youths, and realize suddenly that those boyish faces
and forms are the seamed faces of today - they are we. We prowl
through old records for confirmation of details and find long
overlooked memories of marathon bridge games, tobacco chewing
lessons, furious handball games, uniforms, ticket stubs, wonderful
family letters and think and think. Unnoticed ever before in
a corner article separate from the rest of the crash news, Harry
McPhee was supposed to fly with Will on that journey coincident
with Father's Day. Harry lived to fly on. What would these young
men have done in the Berlin Blockade, Korea, Vietnam and a hundred
lonely locales? No matter, Will's and their faces will never
be seamed, but remain as they were.
Having early lost the companionship of a sterling personality,
we all hope that his son has grown to be the man his father was
and wished to be. In large part, this obituary retains the words
and thoughts of the writers at the time of Wilfred's death, when
first drafts were written. The few changes have been made to
reflect proper tense these many years later.
EPILOGUE
This past week (February 1988) Will's sister and her son explored
a long unopened trunk of family heirlooms and unexpectedly found
the picture used here, the graduation sword used to cut the wedding
cake, and the USMA diploma. Should this article come to his son's
attention, we offer these mementos.
Alberta (Gassett) Dacier
Jean (Gassett) MacDonald
Howard Gassett (deceased)
Harley E. Venters
Frank W. Porter, Jr.
George J. MacDonald
|