US Army Training Center - Yearbook (Fort Benning, GA)

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CCL ping dugouts, those boiling suns of the relentless heat, those torrential rains of devastating storms, the loneli- ness and utter desolation of iungle trails, the bitterness of long separation of those they loved and cherished, the deadly pestilence of tropical disease, the horror of stricken areas of war. Their resolute and determined defense, their swift and sure attack, their indomitable purpose, their com- plete and decisive victory-always victory, always through the bloody haze of their last reverberating shot, the vision of gaunt, ghastly men, reverently following your password of duty, honor, country' . . . You now face a new world, a world of change. The thrust into outer space of the satellite spheres and missiles marks a beginning of another epoch in the long story of mankind. ln the five or more billions of years. the scientists tell us it has taken to- form the earth, in the three or more billion years of development of the human race, there has never been a more abrupt or stag- gering evolution. v We deal now, not with things of this world alone, but with the illimitable distances 'and yet unfathomed mysteries of the universe. We are reaching out for a new and boundless frontier. We' speak in strange-terms of harnessing the- cosmic energy, of making winds and tides work for us . . . of the primary target in war, no longer limited to the armed-forces of an enemy, but instead to include his civil population, of ultimate con- flicts between a united human race and -the sinister forces of some other planetary galaxy, such dreams and fantasies as to make life the most exciting of all times. And through all this welter of change and develop- ment your mission remains fixed, determined, inviolable. It is to win our wars. Everything else in your professional career is but corollary to this vital dedication. All other PU-blic purpose, all other public needs, great Ol' Small, will find others for their accomplishments, but you are the ones who are trained to fight. Yours is the profession of arms, the will to win, the sure knowledge that in war there is no substihlfe for victory, that if you lose, the nation will be destroyed, that the very obsession of your public service must be duty, honor, country. Others will debate the controversial issues, national and international, which divide men's minds. But serene, Calm, aloof, you stand as the nation's Wal' 9U-afdlansf as its lifeguards from the raging tides of international con- flid, as its gladiators in the arena of battle. For a cen- l'Ul'Y and a half you have defended, guarded, and PW' T o o oo tected its hallowed traditions of liberty and freedom, of right and justice. Let civilian voices argue the merits or demerits of our processes of government: whether our strength is being sappedf by deficit financing indulged in too long by Federal paternalism grown too mighty, by power groups grown too arrogant, by politics grown too cor rupt, by c.rime grown too rampant, by morals grown too low, by taxes grown too high, by extremists grown too -violent, whether our personal liberties are as firm and complete as they should be. These great national problems are not for our pro fessional participation or military solution. Your guide post stands out like a tenfold beacon in the night: Duty honor, country. You are the leaven which binds together the en . tire fabric of our nationfal system of defense. From your ranks come the great captains who hold the nation's destiny in their hands the moment the war tocsin sounds . . . The long, gray line has never failed us. Were you to do so, a million ghosts in olive drab, in brown khaki in blue and gray, would rise from their white crosses, thundering those magic words: Duty, honor, country. This does not me.an that you are warmongers. On the contrary, the soldier above all the other people prays for peace, for he must suffer and bear the deepest wounds and scars of war. But always in our ears ring the ominous words of Plato, that wisest of all philosophers: Only the dead have seen the' end of war. The shadows are lengthening for me. The twilight is here. My days of old have vanished-tone and tints They have gone glimmering through the dreams of things that were. Their memory is one of wonderous beauty watered by tears and coaxed and caressed by the smiles of yesterday. I listen then, but with thirsty ear, for the witching melody of faint bugles blowing reveille, of far drums beating the long roll. ln my dreams I hear again the crash of guns, the rattle of musketry, the strange, mournful mutter of the battlefield. But in the evening of my memory I come back to West Point. Always there echoes and re-echoes Duty, honor, country. Today marks my final roll call with you. But l want ou to know that when I cross the river my last con scious thoughts will be of the Corps, and the Corps, and the Corps. l bid you farewell.

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Compan D, nd Battalion LT. COLONEL ARNOLD L. AMUNDSEN COMPANY TACTICAL OFFICER Mississippi State University COMPANY D First Row: Capt P. Van Winkle lFIoridaJ, Capt T. York lTenn Techl, Lt Col A. Amundsen lMiss Statel, Major C. Tatum lBirming- ham HSJ, Capt H. Smith lSouthern Missl, Capt C. Cum-mings CN. Carolina A8.Tl. Second Row: SFC L. Durden lMemphis HSD, MfSgt J. Gilmore lNorth Georgial, MfSgt R. Russell lMemphis HSD, Sgt D. Morgan lCitadell, SFC R. Latham lGeorgia Mil Acadl, SfSgt T. Milam lAtlanta HSD, SFC J. Bowden lOIe Missl. Am , x stil 1 450' Xu W, fp H553 xl A ,V 5 A------11 f V ,1.A -,..,.li,.,,,.,, 'a..,N fr