• I’m the first generation in my family to attend college. And the eldest.
• Being accepted at Penn State was a big deal. Would have meant loans and trivial student jobs. After graduation, a cubicle in an engineering firm in Pittsburgh.
• Then West Point invited me to join the Class of ’69.
• I was blown away. Had I understood West Point better, I’d probably have just fainted.
• The decision to attend was not easy. There was that five-year commitment, to an Army life I knew little about. OK, I really knew nothing about it.
• Men in my life convinced me West Point was worth the risk and effort, and Penn State later would always be there.
• Seeing West Point for the first time on R Day was, HA!!, a shock. The place, the program, but especially the people.
• The staff and faculty – Where do they get these guys?
• The upperclassmen – Where do they get THESE guys?
• My classmates – Unbelievable. One gem after another, with astonishingly few clunkers. I occasionally felt like the Admissions Mistake of ‘69, but my classmates unfailingly embraced me as one of them, fully fledged.
• Duty, Honor, Country. Those three hallowed words.
• Followed closely, if unspoken, by God, care for others, confidence in self and team, and belief in the fundamental goodness of West Point, the Army, and the United States.
• Commanding American soldiers in exotic places, representing the best of America in a world filled with conflict and potential nuclear annihilation. A responsibility and privilege accorded to only a few.
• Learning from superhuman commanders, several of whom reached four stars.
• Bearing fragments of the responsibility America carries: protecting our people, as well as many others. Enabling life, liberty, and pursuit of happiness. Keeping the lamp of Western civilization from being snuffed out.
• Occasionally glimpsing the View From The Top of some Really Big Issues. Grasping them as an engineer from Penn State probably could not.
• Losing classmates, as expected, in a badly-chosen war. And now losing more to the ravages of age, which somehow surprise and confound us.
• Fifty years on, still meeting classmates I never knew. Everyone turns out to be a new friend I’m proud to have.
• Hoping my modest contributions bear some relationship to the monumental undeserved gift that West Point has been.
• And hoping to be as blessed in The Next Life as I have been in this one.
What West Point Means To Me – Bob Jannarone
West Point is home to me. I was born there and spent fifteen of my first twenty-two years there. During childhood, I thought it was idyllic. Five other Army brats from my high school were going to go to the Military Academy, and convinced me to go, too. I thought it would be extremely tough, but would make me a better person, and it did. West Point was a level playing field, where success comes through perseverance and hard work, not from status beforehand. Besides the Ten Commandments, it is also my moral compass as stated in the motto “Duty, Honor, Country”. From my work as an Academy Admissions Officer, I’ve seen firsthand the political side of getting into West Point in the first place. My father was denied a nomination three years in a row because he didn’t have political connections. On the fourth try, his congressman directed a freshman congressman to nominate my dad, which he did. Dad finished first in his class and ultimately became a general.
My brother was nominated because of dad’s status as an active-duty soldier—not political. When my turn came, dad knew the drill. I prepped for a Civil Service Exam, scored 100%, got my congressman’s principal nomination, though he wanted to shunt me off to the Air Force Academy, and was admitted with a waiver for height. There is an instant bond with any other graduate because, though we might have come from different backgrounds, we all went through a very rigorous program. I remember one Superintendent saying that West Pointers don’t just meet standards, they set the standards. I met my wife there and worked there for another eleven years as a Department of the Army Civilian. I must say that working there as a civilian is far different from being a uniformed officer. Throughout a career in the Regular Army and Reserves the knowledge that I was a West Pointer spurred me on to do the best I could for our country.
What West Point Means To Me – Suzanne Rice
I didn’t know Bill when he was a cadet. My first glimpse of West Point might have been watching the old television program,” The West Point Story” from the 1950’s. (must have been impressive for a little girl to remember) My next encounter with West Point was years later when I was in Junior College in my hometown. In my class was an impressive young man from a nearby small town; he was taking classes as he awaited admission to West Point. I didn’t understand the admission process at the time, but it was clear to all who knew him that he was an extraordinary person – way better than the rest of us, so West Point must be a special place if he wanted to go. (It was with great sadness that I learned a few years later that after his graduation in 1970, he was killed in an accident on a jump during Airborne School only a few months after his graduation from West Point.) After Bill and I were married and were returning to the U.S. from Bill’s first assignment in Germany, I asked to visit West Point since we were nearby picking up our car that had been shipped home. It was February and Bill had no desire to go back, three years later, but as a new bride, I was able to convince him to take me – it was my first glimpse of the beauty of the place even during Gloom Period.
At that time, I didn’t know that Bill would later become a professor in the USMA Math Department for four years; it was then that I began to understand not just the physical beauty of the place, but I got to know the people there and understand the important mission to which they promise to give even their lives. After Bill’s unexpected death, I witnessed the amazing love and support that was offered by Bill’s classmates and other grads that we had come to know over Bill’s 27 years on active duty. They rallied around the family, especially our son, who was himself a cadet at the time. I have found that the graduates of West Point take the values of Duty, Honor, Country with them wherever they go, hold on to them and exemplify them as long as they live.
What West Point Means To Me – Janie Taylor
My memories of West Point come in four phases. First, there were the exciting dating days where trips from the University of Kentucky to see Mike were like fairy tale stories. I’d save up all year long to fly to New York and after a bus ride from Grand Central Station my handsome cadet would meet me at Thayer Gate and we’d have a whirlwind weekend of football, dances and, oh yes, Flirtation Walk!
This exciting courtship ended in a wedding in the Cadet Chapel the day after graduation and the next 11 years working together to serve the Army and our country stateside and abroad.
My next memories are of the years Mike was on the English Dept. faculty at West Point and we made more memories with new and old classmates and spouses. It was a wonderful world to raise two children in and for four years I could absorb the history, sacrifice, tradition and camaraderie that only the military can exude.
As we entered the autumn of our lives, we found the bond of the class alums overwhelming as we enjoyed cruises to Alaska and the Baltic Sea and a trip to Ireland. As Mike’s cancer progressed, the “Best Of The Line” gave him encouragement and his last weeks were full of pride for his ’69 brothers and peace that he led a life well done.
I now have my private memories. They are full of gratitude, smiles and pride that I got to share in the brotherhood of West Point’s Class of ’69. I have been blessed beyond belief.
Janie Taylor
The “Wow” Test – 1971
What’s the “Wow Test” and why does it matter to my business? Well, let me tell you a story.
The setting is the Vietnam-jungle; hot, talcum powder dust, dirt, the entire genus of ant – you get the picture. I am an armored cavalry platoon leader1
Providing security operations for Rome Plows (huge bulldozers made in Rome, GA specifically designed to create large swatches of open land in Vietnam jungle/heavy brush. Easier to spot enemy troop movements; less places to hide.) along with the rest of my troop.
Typically, my troop, E Troop, operated by rotating two platoons on the security mission with the Rome Plows while one platoon remained with the troop Headquarters to provide additional security and to perform maintenance on weapons, vehicles and of course the soldiers. This rotation scheme would put each platoon out in the bush for 4-5 days at a time performing day time patrols and night time ambushes. The platoon serving troop Headquarters security would always conduct inspections of vehicles and weapons at the end of the first day back with the troop to be sure they were 100% ready to return to the operational missions.
One morning, a multiple-tour veteran NCO challenged me to personally inspect his track and weapons that afternoon. The gauntlet was being thrown to see how much the new ‘Lt.’ knew. I accepted the dare.
All day the level of activity on his Sheridan tank was frenetic — honor was at stake here.
The hour of decision arrived, and I walked over to his vehicle, accepted his report and salute and climbed onto the vehicle, ready to impress that I knew a thing or two that they had overlooked. I navigated my way to the rear of the vehicle to begin the inspection at the engine compartment. Alas, all of the grill doors and decks that protected the engine were already removed to open the engine for easy access and inspection.
I stopped dead – not quite sure of what I was seeing. The engine before me looked like it belonged on the cover of Hot Rod magazine.
Spotless. Gleaming. Certain components painted blue; others red; exhaust pipe polished – it looked like a stock car engine on proud display by a NASCAR pit crew.
The only word I could say was “WOW!” And I thought: “Do I insult the crew by even checking the oil? Of course, it will be correct”. But I went through the motions and, as predicted, found no faults.
Same for the turret compartment – flawless – spotless -‘eat off the floor’ trite clean. Weapons – same. In my entire Army career in and out of countless tank turrets and other armored vehicles, I never again saw such a display of pride.
Well ‘so what’ you say? Here’s the ‘so what’. The Sheridan class of vehicle I inspected that day had a terrible reputation in Vietnam for unreliable fire control-sensitive to heat, humidity, dirt – that could quit firing after a few rounds. Not a good thing in a firefight. But this NCO’s vehicle never broke down, never quit the fight; typically, he expended all his basic load and then would maneuver to the side of another Sheridan that had malfunctioning systems, offload their main gun ammo onto his vehicle, and continue the fight. This scene repeated over and over.
The moral – individuals with that much pride will never let you down. Some days I cannot remember what I had for breakfast – but I have never forgotten the lesson that young NCO taught me that day 40 years ago.
So back to the original question – how is the ‘Wow’ Test relevant to you and your business? To answer, I simply ask the question: “How do you want to be perceived by your clients?” When your clients look at your product; your company vehicles; your employees dress and manners; your store layout; your back office organization, your presentations, you – everything – are they stopped in their tracks to think or say, “Wow — I’ve never seen anything or anyone that has shown so much pride in their work?” What does the mere appearance of these indicators say about your company and its ability to perform? “Wow!” with gusto is what you want — make that happen and watch your reputation as a company “that can be counted on” grow.
