by Jonathan A. Ward

I visited the United States Military Academy at West Point, New York as part of a family history research trip. My mother’s family, the Weyants, settled in that area in the early 1700’s, and I was visiting to learn more. My father, from Georgia, obtained a PhD in History, and during World War II he ended up teaching at West Point. And that’s where he met my mother, Susan-Jane Weyant of Highland Falls.  

I wanted especially to see the chapel where my parents were married at the military academy.  My cousin David warned me that the grounds were generally closed to visitors, and that my best chance of seeing the academy was to sign on to a daily bus tour. Well the morning of my planned visit dawned, and for some reason I felt like seeing the sites by myself. Thus, I decided to go to the Visitors Center at the entrance and explain my reasons for wanting to visit. I told the receptionists about my parents being married there, etc., and they graciously gave me a pass to see the chapel and grounds. At the main gate soldiers thoroughly searched my rental car. Thankfully no weapons were found, and I was in. It was a dazzling autumn day by the Hudson River. I was in a pensive mood as I entered the historic fort  — important both for our country and my family.

First I visited the newer chapel and was amazed by its size and beauty — colorful light came streaming through stained-glass windows; many flags lined the walls. I then went to the smaller, older chapel where my parents were married in 1946. I wandered through, looking at the memorabilia on the walls, and then I sat for a while in peaceful solitude. Outside I spent some time walking in the surrounding cemetery and reading the headstones – the names, ranks, dates, and where those interred had served our country.

Then I drove past some athletic fields, parked, got out of my car again, and took a stroll by the beautiful Hudson River. It was a very quiet Sunday. There was hardly anyone around. Next I drove up to “The Plain,” a very large parade field bordered by stone gray buildings and statues of famous warriors, most notably Generals Washington, Eisenhower, and Patton. The statue of General Patton faces the school library. Never known as an academic, it’s joked that Patton, sculpted holding binoculars, is hoping to find the library that he seldom visited as a cadet. 

I’m the youngest of four children — two older brothers and one older sister. I grew up during the Vietnam War. My eldest brother was in favor of our involvement in Vietnam, and my second-older brother was completely anti-war. They were both exempt from the draft because of  surgeries. I was a year or two too young to be drafted into the war, but it was a hot topic. Many young men and women were being drafted— many fighting and dying; ultimately 58,220 Americans lost their lives in Vietnam. It was a challenging time for our country with many diverse opinions, different lifestyles, and anti-war protests everywhere — even at my high school. Because of the turmoil, during my college years and after I never considered enlisting in the armed forces myself.

As I strolled around the parade field, I was wearing shorts, an aloha shirt, sandals, and sunglasses. Approaching me in athletic attire was a very young cadet of perhaps 19 or 20. I gave him a big smile and said, “GOOD MORNING SOLDIER!” He lit up and replied “GOOD MORNING SIR;” he said it with happiness I suppose at being addressed as “soldier,” and he greeted me with respect. I stopped and sat down on a nearby bench, in awe at this young soldier’s commitment and selflessness —completely willing to give his life for my life, his life to defend our country. Needless to say, the respect was due him. God bless the soldiers!