12/4/22
11/30/22
11/5/22
Our Poets November Poem - NOVEMBER'S BREATH
10/2/22
8/23/22
8/21/22
70th Reunion
As previously announced the 70th Reunion for the GreatClass of 1954 will be held on April 24, 25, 26, and 27, 2024. We have contracted with the “Graduate Annapolis” hotel at 126 West Street to be our Reunion Headquarters. This is the same hotel that we used for our 65th Reunion.
However, the room rate has gone up to $199 per night, not including taxes. We are planning to have most of our festivities at the hotel and transportation will be provided to all other events, so that no one will need to drive their own vehicle anywhere once you check in to the hotel.
While nothing is cast in concrete yet there are a few events of interest that are tentatively on our schedule:
Welcome aboard speech by the Sup or Commandant;
Memorial Service in the USNA Chapel;
Midshipmen Dressparade;
Welcome Aboard Reception and Reunion
Banquet at the Graduate Annapolis.
So, everyone, including widows, children, other family members, and friends should mark your calendars for this Class of 1954 Reunion.
7/31/22
Death of a Classmate - David Rudolph Raunig - 5th Co.
5/29/22
Death of a Wife - Fride Egidius Philpot
Death of a Classmate - CAPT Frederick J. Kollmorgen - 9th Co
CAPT Frederick J. Kollmorgen (March 7, 1932 - May 24, 2022)
4/24/22
Our Poets April poem - THE DRUMMER AND THE GENERAL
April 2022 Pome
THE DRUMMER AND
THE GENERAL *
Pittsburg
Landing, Tenn., 5 April 1863
"Now, boy, " said the General
quietly, "You are the heart of the army.
Think of that. You're the heart of
the army. Listen now."
--
Ray Bradbury, "The Drummer Boy of Shiloh"
Young
Joby, the drummer, lay sleepless, in the cool of an April night,
Staring up through the darkness. In
the morning there'd be a fight.
He was frightened and most unready,
his eyes and his cheeks were damp,
And he wondered about the army,
stretched out in their slumbering camp.
A footstep crunched in the shadows,
the boots of a man with stars,
He smelt of brass and leather, the
smoke of his good cigars--
His sabre clinked in its scabbard as
he knelt at the drummer's side,
"Is that you, boy?" he
murmured, Joby nodded, eyes opened wide.
"I hope you're done with the
weeping, as I was, an hour ago."
"You cried?" "To be sure," said the General,
"it's a pain all soldiers know.
I order my boys into battle, knowing
well that some shall die,
But my tears are shed in
private--the troops mustn't see me cry."
"Now harken, lad, it's
important. Tomorrow, you're in
command,
For the battle hangs on the drummer,
a boy of the regiment's band.
This army of fifty thousand must
have but a single mind,
And the drummer's the one true
leader, when the General's left behind.
"If you rap out a lazy
drumbeat, the cadence a mite too slow,
The men's blood won't be warming,
going in against the foe-
They're young, all unused to battle,
untrained as a flock of lambs,
One day they're their mother's
children, the next, they are Captain Sam's.
"I dare not say to those
mothers that I wasted their precious sons,
So, boy, drum a rattling quickstep,
and we'll take those enemy guns,
Tomorrow we'll break those Rebels,
we'll win us a victory.
I've done my best for the army, will
you now do this for me?"
The General paused, and the drummer
thought hard, for a brave reply,
"Well,
sir," he managed to stammer, "I don't know, but I'll surely try!"
"That's good enough," said
the General, and his sabre jingled again,
As he rose to resume his pacing, the
facing of soul-deep pain.
His bootsteps faded in darkness, and
the boy closed a peaceful eye,
Peach-petals tapped on his drumhead,
unseen under soft spring sky,
Around him slumbered the army, fifty
thousand boys in blue,
And Joby slept well until
morning--he knew what he had to do.
4-27-97