The Making of a Soldier

I did not expect to go to West Point. As a third alternate appointee in 1943, there were three other applicants ahead of me-- a principal appointee and two alternates-- and the principal had already qualified and been accepted. Furthermore, I had failed the physical exam on three separate counts: a heart murmur, red-green color blindness, and I had had the cartilage removed from my left knee. In any event, time had run out; the last day was over. Clearly, there was no possibility remaining. But at 10 o'clock on the night before the new class was to report in, I received a telephone call saying that the principal had broken his arm that morning, that the other two alternates had both failed the academic exams, and that if I could get to West Point by Noon the next day, they would give me a waiver on my physical. Isn't that an amazing miracle?

Due to the war, the four-year curriculum was accelerated to three years, but not at all abbreviated, which meant that, although I lived only one and a half hours away, I never got home once until after my plebe year, and then for a total of only five short visits before I graduated in 1946. It was tough and demanding, both academically and physically, and of the more than 1200 select cadets who entered with me, making our class by far the largest up to that time, only 875-- fewer than three out of every four-- graduated three years later. Incredible as it sounds to me, that was 55 years ago, making me the oldest graduate to be going on this wonderful trip to China; and the question that Wayne Richardson '83, the youngest among us, has asked me to address is: "During that time, what has West Point meant in your life? What difference has it made?" The answer to that is three-fold.

Because of West Point, during the course of my life I have come to know that, regardless of the circumstances, there is nothing that is impossible. Whatever might be my desire, my dream, my desperate need, it may or may not be granted, but anything is possible. Just my being at West Point was adequate proof of that, and there were a good many other times as a cadet that I was pushed beyond what I thought were my limits, and was required to do what to me seemed utterly impossible. I have come to know that in life, as in battle, the willingness to dive in and tackle the impossible, and the ability to hope in the face of hopelessness, often spell the difference between victory and defeat, between success and failure, between life and deadness.

Because of West Point, I also have come to know that, more than any other single quality, the real measure of a man lies in his integrity and honesty-- that is, in his honor. For if a man is not honorable; if he is not true to his word and true to himself; and if he cannot be trusted to stand for what is right and good and honest, against all that is wrong and evil and false, even at the cost of his life; then he is a liar, and a coward, and a hypocrite. He lacks character and is of little worth.

Finally, and most importantly, because of West Point, during the course of my life I have come to know that, in and of myself, I am not strong enough to undertake the impossible with abandonment and trust, and without fear, and so to win the day against impossible odds. I have come to know that, in and of myself, I am not strong enough, or brave enough, or unselfish enough, to stand against the onslaught of the enemy for what is right, at the cost of denigration, pain, and even of my very life. But I also have come to know Someone who is strong enough; who is omnipotent, ever-present, and ever true; and who alone deserves all honor; and with Him by my side, I am able to stand without fear.

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Contributed by Stephen Elmer
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