Remarks by Stu Sherard
Class of 1962, 45th Reunion, Memorial Service
Cadet Chapel, West Point, New York
September 28, 2007
Yesterday we buried Wayne Downing, a valued classmate, loving husband and father, friend, outstanding soldier and patriot and our hearts go out to his dear wife and family; they need our prayers as they grieve their loss. Wayne is the latest of our ranks to cross the river; there have been many who preceded him and alas, all of us here today one day will follow.
As we look down this list of classmates printed in the bulletin and pause at each name, we remember wonderful stories about each one and call to mind their dedicated service in defense of freedom. We remember their faces; we are struck at once that each one of these dear men had a unique personality. None of them was what you would call “flashy.” They all thought before they spoke and when they did speak, people listened. None of them were from an aristocratic line. Life didn’t hand them success because of a family name or wealth. They worked hard to graduate from West Point and to gain promotion in the service, and they always helped friends along the way. They always carried themselves with a steadfastness and dependability that was admirable. Their attributes in life were precisely those that Americans are entitled to expect of West Pointers who commit themselves to the service of this republic.
A deep sense of Duty was the bedrock of their character. Robert E. Lee once said that duty is “the sublimest word in the English language.” Those four letters embody a breathtaking sweep of self-abnegation and require an almost holy commitment to the non-negotiable demands of the mission and welfare of solders. Today, we remember and honor a band of brothers who fully understood and practiced these sacred ideals.
This past week I reread Brian McEnany and Mary Elizabeth Sergent’s history of the West Point class of 1862 written on the occasion of the class of 1962’s 40th reunion some five years ago. They wrote the history of the class of 1862 through the eyes of Tully McCrae who graduated 11th in the class and was commissioned in the Artillery. He served in the Civil War, was wounded when a mini-ball smashed through both his legs leaving him lame for the rest of his life. He retired from the Army as a Brigadier General.
McCrae briefly summarized the 1862 class history then laid that aside and began to list each member of the class as they came to mind. After a brief memoir of each classmate Brian and Mary Elizabeth record this and I quote:
“Tully’s pen finally stopped writing and dropped from his cramped fingers onto the desktop. His hand relaxed as he picked up the sheets of papers and started to read through them slowly. As he read their names, their faces and voices came back to him clearly through the years. The friendships made during those years still held firm, even though they had fought on opposite sides…. Tulley turned down the gas lamps, snuffed out the candle on the desk, and limped slowly over to his bed. Thoughts of the Long Gray Line and strains of Benny Havens ran through his head as he fell into a deep and restful sleep.”
How appropriate “Benny Havens” is on this solemn occasion:
“Come fill your glasses, fellows, and stand up in a row,
To singing sentimentally, we’re going for to go,
In the Army there’s sobriety, promotions very slow,
So we’ll sing our reminiscences of Benny Havens, oh!
May the Army be augmented, promotions be less slow;
May our country in the hour of need be ready for the foe;
May we find a soldier’s resting place beneath a soldier’ blow,
With space enough beside our graves for Benny Havens, oh!
To our kind old Alma Mater, our rock-bound Highland home,
We’ll cast back many a fond regret, as o’er life’s sea we roam,
Until on our last battle field the lights of Heaven shall glow,
We’ll never fail to drink to her and Benny Havens, oh!
Oh Benny Havens, oh! Oh, Benny Havens, oh!
So we’ll sing our reminiscences of Benny Havens, oh!”
If you recall, at our 40th reunion, the Memorial Service was held on the beach at Camp Buckner. Following that service, our classmate Terry McCarthy wrote down his thoughts about our fallen classmates. Terry wrote, and I’ll close with this:
“How could this ever happen, that forty years have passed,
marching by at double time, so furiously, so fast.
The Popolopen hills looked taller, the sandy beach much smaller, the skies of May were bluer as we gathered by the shore.
They were standing there beside us as Stu and Art inspired us.
Their hands reached out and touched us as we bowed our heads in prayer.
We heard their names read slowly, the warrior tears flowed freely,
Taps was played most sweetly for the fallen of 62.
Then their voices rose like thunder, as we sang the Alma Mater;
Our love for them grew stronger, good men straight and true.
And when our work is done, our course on earth is run,
May it be said “well done”, be thou at peace.”
Five years later, the voices of these men still rise like thunder. Their message to us doesn’t change. It continues to be a message of duty and courage and commitment to the things that are really important in life. Their memory and their message reminds us that we’re to be honorable and considerate and decent men and women interested in, concerned about, and committed to God, to each other, to West Point and to real freedom. They continue to inspire us even today. Peace then to their dust, and honor to their memory forever.