I rode up with Pete ("Go Army") Webb, Tim McCauley, and Tim's roommate Dan to see the Black Knights of Army ultimately maintain chivalrous honor against the Scarlet (?) Knights of New Brunswick. I drove the stretch of road, 282 miles through VA, MD, DE, NJ, and NY, in the truck; total time 5 hr 45 min. I had the feeling I get after flying transcontinentally, with how tired I was when we finally got to our rather decent quarters in Highland Falls, the West Point Motel, where we shared two rooms. But I was glad someone had removed me from my ordinary rut for 4 days, and Pete is an exemplary roommate.
I let Pete drive us in to see various parts of the USMA, in an interpretive tour you'd only get from a man who's lived there. I enjoyed the sights of its unique stonemasonry-intensive architecture. I was impressed, too, by the incredible view up the Hudson from the Point, and the overwhelming calm of the place, such a contrast to one's view of war. When they played Taps at 1800, it was a most solemn event. I wanted to stand at attention.
18 October 1997 -- Such fun to see, Army win!
After Pete sold me an "Army Football" shirt from the stock he had already acquired from the Gift Shop, we got out bright and early to see the Corps on parade. Those uniforms looked pretty warm, compared to our insufficient garments in the reviewing stand. I later bought a pair of "Go Army" mittens at the Gift Shop. We then made our inexorable way to the stadium, climbing one particularly rough set of stairs from the Barracks area. We saw more sights of West Point than the casual visitor would, with Pete as a guide, since he spent such a memorable part of his life there. It is as if I could re-create my life from the early 1970's in Northwestern Detroit, which cannot be done because of change, which is carefully controlled at the Academy. We had free coffee and munchies, plus a decent rest in some very good furniture at the Alumni Center, courtesy of Pete's Dad, Col. Webb ('46), whose family and guests were made welcome as part of the great USMA Alums. organization.
The sun finally came out and it was a decent football day, at game time. We had 50-yard-line tickets, again with the COL.'s name on them. Such largesse! Army came storming out in the first quarter and worked up what looked like an unbeatable score...until they started weakening a bit in the thick of battle to some dogged Rutgers offense. It came down to a 35-34, Rutgers end game position, only to be upset by a decisive 4th quarter field goal from Army, with too little clock time left for a renewed scoring effort from the Scarlet Knights. Their idea of a Knight-mascot, outfitted in some form of foam rubber, paled in comparison to the Army Black Knight mascot, who wandered the stands in something resembling real armor. In the end, the Brave Old Army Team, as I believe the song goes, stood and took the spoils, 37 - 35, while their worthwhile adversaries silently walked away, to board their bus for New Jersey. I was about as rabid an Army fan-atic as you could want with that show-stopping 4th quarter. "Heart Attack Football" is what Pete termed it. I began shouting, not as the calm, reserved, shy person you see avoiding people so often. No, this was the way of an animal. A primal, proto-human. Live sports. Nothing like it, still. We're doing this trip again, in November 1998, to see Air Force ("Zoomies") at Army.
All thereafter tended to be anti-climax and epilogue. We wandered some more around the campus, spending a brief moment at one of the high old forts overlooking the Hudson, where Pete began living out one of the confrontations with the Frenchmen in Monty Python and the Holy Grail. That evening we went to Vigil Mass at the Chapel of the Most Holy Trinity, where we saw not a few full-uniform Cadets joining in the celebration (of the Liturgy, of course...). Being as tired as I was from romping all over campus and spending what was left of myself at the Game, I was glad to be able to get some rest in one of the Motel rooms, while the rest of the Guys assembled in the other to watch still more sports, in the form of Marlins - Indians in the World Series.
19 October 1997 -- West Point Museum, Hyde Park
On Sunday, we toured the concise-yet-informative West Point Museum.
It is a worthwhile complement to the displays I enjoy so much at the Smithsonian's
American History Museum downtown. I would leave it to my historian
friend from Virginia Tech, Mike Evans, to determine which point of view
the Civil War exhibits are framed within. My favorite artifact had
to be the restored WWII Jeep, since I have become an SUV fan. The
Museum was conveniently next to the Visitors Center and Gift Shop, which
Pete sounded dead serious about cleaning out and taking home with us in
a trailer (sigh...more tolls on the NJ turnpikes...I'm glad he had SOME
restraint...).
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For the rest of the day, we drove up the river, past Poughkeepsie, to the FDR Hyde Park estate, run by the NPS, which we visited from 1500 - 1715. It is a first rate tribute to this most controversial of presidents, and a bit poignant, since there are so many today who would call the innovations of his New Deal out-of-date and no longer relevant. It is also a good glimpse into the life of his equally-controversial wife, Eleanor, and a place I can imagine Hillary has enjoyed visiting. The mansion itself was impressive. I'm not sure how many model homes you'll see these days with dressing rooms, sitting rooms, and servants' quarters. I took a walk down the steep hill from the house, towards the lowlands and the Hudson, and through the marvellous fall scenery, with leaves all about (left). This was your ideal Fall Color tour, especially in the more mountainous stretches of the Hudson Valley just north of West Point. On our way back to the Motel that evening, we decided to stop at an Italian restaurant in Highland Hills and eat our fill of made-to-order pizza. We had stopped many other times at the adjacent McDonald's. I am used to paying a fair bit more for my rations on vacation, since I charge a lot to my hotel room if I can, so this was an easy-to-afford trip. |