BILL PAULL? Sure, I knew him. At least, I knew him a little. Bill wasn't the kind of man you got to know right off the bat. But Bill was the kind of fellow people just felt was going places, and he was one you just always felt you'd like to keep track of. Every time I saw him I felt a little more deeply that there was a man whose depth of perception-an almost intuitive insight into things human-would rank him in years to come as a real leader of men.

You see, Bill married one of my dearest friends-so that's the side of him I knew best. The only things I knew about his military life were the ways he talked about the "Point" and the way his shoes always were polished, and the way his brass shone, and the uninterrupted creases in his trousers. And I knew, too, that glamorous sounding careers in civilian life never even caused him to so much as turn his head in their offered directions, so much did he live -and die-for the military.

Bill Paull was the only person I've ever known who really seemed to live his own philosophy of life.

Bill believed in God. Not in a dogmatically vocal sort of way, but in a sense that made you know here was a boyhood ideal in the omnipresent forces of natural laws, planted by wisely sympathetic parents whose understanding of a boy's needs and questions about continuing life made the necessity of belief in a supernatural power a real thing-to be nourished and cherished until physical being ceased.

Another thing that always made me eager to see Bill was the way you could always talk with him about absolutely anything, whether it be the racial problems of southern Africa, international politics, the cultural background of the near east, or the strategic position of New Zealand. There seldom seemed to be a subject about which Bill hadn't a font of facts and interesting sidelines. And the beauty of that side of him was that if he did run out of information he quietly said so. Bill wasn't a speculator in things factual. His quietly assured manner in conversation made every-one stop and listen attentively, for Bill didn't talk unless he had something real to add to a conversation.

Not that he was shy! Bill Paull always seemed more than ready for any social situation. Young girls, small boys, doting "in-laws" and just general friends came to say, "Willie can do anything!" and the facetiousness of the first remark disappeared until everyone really believed Bill could do anything.

One of my fondest memories of Bill is his role as stepfather, for here showed the true mettle of the man. Even before he could claim him as his own, Bill Paull seemed dedicated to quickly crowding into the life of a vivacious, tow-headed seven-year-old boy's life all the wonderful ideals a father can give a son, all the comradeship and love and little things like a first bike, and a nod to climb the neighbor's tree, and permission to ride a city bus alone. Things and ideas that to a boy who hadn't known his father, meant the difference between being a boy and half a boy, things like understanding the problems of keeping his collection of live worms away from mother's watchful eye, and having a pure-bred puppy of his own.

Then there was the look of him as Bill Paull held his own newborn son. You saw a lifetime of tenderness and pride and love overflow in Bill for that helpless little crying bundle of a boy, and you felt that here was something you shouldn't witness. So you got up and left the room, and pretty soon the crying stopped as the father remained to stand his guard.

There was an air of calm serenity about Bill Paull which was contagious to all who knew him. You sensed his own peace with himself and his world, and the feeling rubbed off. You felt that whenever you were around him the best in you would come forward, and felt a better person for having been with him.

So ... these are a few of the things we remember in Bill Paull. God rest his soul. We all loved him.

-Mary V. Mabry.
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Personal Eulogy