Class of 1950 Story

For, our 65th reunion, our classmate John Vanston has written a wonderful tribute to the Class of 1950. 

 

We arrived in Nineteen Forty-Six

          On the first Tuesday in July.

We didn’t know what lay ahead,

            But we decided to give the trip a try.

                                   

We emptied all our wallets.

            We weren’t allowed to carry cash.

We got our instructions from the Cadets

            Who wore a Scarlet Sash.

 

First, we marched to Trophy Point

            With its gorgeous Hudson view.

We then swore firm allegiance to

            The Red, the White, the Blue.

 

We all were counseled on the Honor Code .

            Cadets don’t lie or cheat or steal

Or tolerate those who don’t accept

            The essence of this deal.

 

We were assigned rooms and roommates,        

            Who became our lifelong friends.

We faced Plebe troubles together;

            Shared grimaces and grins.

 

Tailors who had sewn for decades

            Made our uniforms fit just right.

Barbers trimmed our tresses short.

            We were really quite a sight.

 

The first two months are called Beast Barracks -

            A name that fits them well,

But were the Beasts the ones who suffered,

            Or the ones who made their lives a Hell.

 

Upperclassmen generously gave us

            Great loads of good advice.

Their suggestions were straightforward,  

            Simple, sensible, concise.

 

“Pull your shoulders way back!”

           “Suck that pudgy stomach in!

“Pop your puny chest up!” and

            “Wipe off that silly grin!”

 

The Detail knew our real names

           But used pet names instead,

Like Dumbsmack, Birdbrain,

            Ducrot, and Dunderhead.

 

 An upperclassman would graciously

            Invite you to a visit in his room.

Once there you were requested

            A bracing posture to assume.

 

We soon learned the answers

            That for questions we could use.

“Yes, Sir!”, “No Sir!”

            And, “Sir, There’s No Excuse!”

 

The Academy’s rules on hazing

            Forbade physical beating,

But there were no rules that prevented

            Hazing while you were eating.

 

Plebes were allowed to only use

            The first three inches of their chair,

Knock, Knock and a coffee cup

            Would come flying through the air.

 

On the Plebe Hike we walked countless miles

            With field packs upon our backs.

We slept each night in Pup Tents

            With little involvement by the TACs.

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 When, we moved back into barracks,

            Our Plebe Year had begun.

Life was far from easy then,

            But there was, at least, some time for fun

 

In the Academic Building

           For tenths we daily fought.

Staying “Pro” in all our subjects

            Was the objective we all sought.

 

We were graded on all subjects,

           Each and every day.

When the Instructor signaled “Take Boards,”

            We knew a test was on the way.

 

For parades, we lined up on the Plain

            In tightly ordered ranks.

The short Cadets were in the middle.

            The tall ones on the flanks.

  

Our Reviews were enlivened

          By the music of the Band.

We all smartly executed “Eyes Right.”

          As we marched past the Reviewing Stand.

 

(The Flankers were comedians

            They razed the “Runts” in fun.

“Moma, aren’t those cuddly Cadets cute?

            Please, can you buy me one?”

 

But we wee ones had an observation

           About  a soldier’s size.

A bullet that went just over our helmets

            Would hit tall ones between the eyes.)

 

MacArthur had made strong comments about the

            “Fields of friendly strife,”

But in our IntraMurder conflicts          

           We often had to fight for life.

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The Army football team was awesome.

           They were on top of all the charts.

Earl Blake was unsurpassed

            At the classic pigskin arts.

 

Doc Blanchard was Mr. Inside

            Glenn Davis was Mr. Out,

And when special toughness was needed,

           “Unchain Otto!” we all would shout.

 

One year Alan Ladd came for the filming

            Of the movie Beyond Glory.

There were many beautiful shots of West Point,

            But it really was a pretty stupid story.

 

At the end, came Recognition Day.

            We gave upperclassmen’s hands a shake.

It truly is remarkable what differences

            A press of flesh can make.

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In the Summer we went to Camp Buckner

            To polish up our Army skills.

We fired rifles, rockets, cannons,        

           And drove tanks around the hills.

 

There was time for recreation too,

           For our spirits, a renewing -

Swimming, hiking, sailing,

            Tennis, and canoeing.

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On romantic strolls on Flirtie,

       Holding hands might sometimes be allowed,

But nothing ever went further,

        There was always such a crowd.

 

On Sundays we marched off to church,

            Regardless of the weather.

It gave us a chance to think things through,

            And get our acts together.

 

One hundred days ‘til graduation

            Was a very special date.

Cadets wrote, acted, and directed         

           Shows that were always truly great.

 

Because there were no female Cadets,

            Males played all the ladies’ parts.

Now, female cadets can play girl-friends,

           Wives, or even tarts.

 

Saturday hops in Cullum Hall,

            Did our social lives enhance.

Hop Cards held between brass buttons

            Determined with whom we’d dance.

 

In CAMID we mixed with Middies.

         They were, really much like the Corp.

The sea-landing we practiced was valuable,

         When we assaulted Inchon’s muddy shore.

 

In Firsty Summer, we visited posts

           Throughout the entire nation.

These trips helped us to decide

           What would be our first Duty Station.

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Thompson, deGraf, and Eshelman

           Were all outstanding scholars.

In their battle to be Number One,

           Tenths were dearer to them than dollars.

 

Likewise, Wheaton, Begley, and McFarland

            Fought hard to be the bottom.

They sought barely passing grades,

            And, in most cases, they surely got ’em.

 

When the two contests ended,

            Bill deGraf was the leader of the pack

McFarland became the Class Goat,      

           But, luckily, was not turned back.

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We selected branches and assignments

            Based on our academic ranks.

This determined if we would serve in airplanes,

            In trenches, or in tanks.

 

When Frank Pace finished his address,

           Six hundred-seventy hats were tossed.

Our West Point journey now was over.

            The finish line had been crossed.

 

On graduation, we each received          

            A pair of golden bars,

In time, these simple symbols

            Became a constellation of shiny stars.

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Three weeks after graduation,

         Many classmates were recalled from leave.

North Korea had invaded South Korea

         A land-grab to achieve.

 

The U.S., as an ally,

            Sent troops in to assist.

U.S. soldiers and the KATUSA

           Were able the Commies to resist.

 

When they drove up to the Yalu,

            China sent its Army in.

Although they pushed the Allies back,

            It cost a million men.

 

Since Korea, our classmates have engaged

            In battles throughout the world.

In Viet Nam, Lebanon, and Grenada

           The American flag has been unfurled

 

The fighting in these engagements

            On our classmates took a toll,

But fighting our country’s enemies,

            Is a soldier’s basic role

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Although service time was varied,

            Most served twenty years or more.

Then, we all considered

            What paths now lay before.

 

Some turned to academia

            To earn advanced degrees.

Some joined Corporate America.

            Shareholders they had to please.

 

Some started their own businesses

            To satisfy an entrepreneurial bent.

Some went into law, church, or medicine.

            One became a nation’s president.

 

But regardless of our pathways,

            Or what fate did us impel,

Our experiences at West Point

            Have served us all quite well.

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In the matter of Distinguished Graduates,

      The Class has gotten more than its fair share.

Each of the eight recipients

       Followed a different pathway getting there.

 

Frank Borman circled round the moon,

            A thrill beyond compare.

Later, he left the Air Force to become

            The CEO of Eastern Air.

 

Fidel Ramos returned to the Philippines

            To serve his island nation.

Later, the role of President would be

           His primary occupation.

 

Wally Nutting had a great career

           Over two Commands, he’d reign.

When he retired from the U.S Army, he became

            The Mayor of Biddeford, Maine.

 

Dick Trefry was the first recipient

            Of the award that bears his name.

David Hughes was a true pioneer

            In the Wireless Communications game.

 

Charles Gabriel and John Wickham

            Were their service’s Chief of Staff.

The last one to receive the DG honor was

           Class Champion, Bill DeGraf.

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In the up-coming Class Reunion

            We will revisit West Point Glories.

We’ll meet up with our classmates,

            To share sixty-five years of stories.

 

In the years since the last Reunion,

           Many’ve heard the Ghostly Assemblage’s call.

We grip hands with them in the shadows.

            We will miss them one and all.

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We thank Bill deGraf and Win Skelton

            For the great Reunion they have planned

We’ll end with a dance on Tuesday Evening,

            Though the music will be canned.

 

In five years we’ll meet again,

            And, in ranks, pass in review.

We’ll be a few years older then,

           And, perhaps, a wee bit wiser too.

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Since that faithful day in Forty-Six, Duty, Honor,

           Country’s been our lifelong guide.             

As we review our Class’s accomplishments

             We all can pop-up our chests with pride.


John H. Vanston
Class of 1950