We tend to eulogize those who have left us, and that is as it should be. But this is not a eulogy. Bill Ericson will never leave us.
Perhaps that can be defined as a trite phrase when used in the context that the man will live in the hearts of those who loved him—and so very many people loved Bill. Yes, Bill will live in a host of hearts, but, more important, he will live in the minds of everybody who ever knew him because of the profound effect his mere presence exerted on them. He will live in the professional consciousness of his classmates and of all those who had the privilege of serving with him. To some he was an inspiration; to all he was the epitome of the complete soldier.
“I am a soldier." That was Bill’s creed, his belief, his ambition, his all-consuming passion. He loved the Army, he believed in it, and he knew it better than any of us. Bill's wife Clare can testify to that. He loved his wife, he loved his family, he loved life itself—but the Army came first!
No man who knew Bill will ever hear the word "soldier" without thinking of him. He lives each time the word is spoken or written. Bill was an enlisted man, a Noncommissioned Officer, a cadet, an officer, a rifleman, a senior paratrooper, a pathfinder, a jungle expert, and a Combat Infantryman. He did not want to be “known” as any of these—just as a “soldier." Bill had professional respect for rank, be it Specialist Fourth Class or Five Star General, but he had true respect for a military man only if he believed the man deserved the appellation “soldier."
One illustration of his sincereness occurred in July 1967, on the first day of New Cadet Barracks when Bill was serving as “King of Beasts.” He was conversing with Sergeant Major Dobel of the Big Red One in a sally port off Central Area (both now retired), and a Columbia Broadcasting System television crew was waiting for him. A member of his cadre came over to remind him of that fact. Bill chewed him out saying, “Tell them to wait! Can’t you see I’m talking to a soldier?!?”
Bill will never leave West Point either, and this is not in reference to the fact that his physical remains are buried there, nor that his class ring has been installed in the library collection as the representative one for the Class of 1968. He has left, as Colonel Charles Simpson so aptly expressed it, a number of “legacies."
Tradition, to Bill Ericson, was a sacred thing, but that did not foreclose the possibility for innovation. He was instrumental in establishing new traditions. He was one of the founders of the Military Affairs Club and served as its Vice President.
During his second year at the Academy, Bill recognized that his fellow classmates were distributed throughout the Corps, making it difficult to know them. He also learned that virtually all who made it through the first two years would graduate and be his contemporaries throughout his career. He wanted to know more about them. So, almost singlehandedly, as a project of his Ring and Crest Committee, he put together the "MUSTER" which can best be described as an interim yearbook. An immediate success, all copies were “gobbled up" by his classmates, the faculty, and others at the Academy.
Bill Ericson will never leave the 4th Regiment of the Corps. The regiment came into existence during Bill’s Plebe Year. By the time he became a “Firstie” and its Cadet Commander, it was “pure.” All transferees from other regiments were gone. With the guidance of his Army counterpart, Colonel Simpson, Bill somehow managed to shape the regiment into an overall cohesive unit which seemed to have a knack for excelling in everything from sports to academics. He gave them a motto “Strict, Tough, Military, Proud.” He designed a patch which every member of the regiment bought, and most wore on their bathrobes and other informal wear. Members of the 4th had a large rendering made of the patch and erected it on the exterior of a building in the regimental area. It stands there today. Bill Ericson stands there. The very first patch received from the manufacturer was presented to Command Sergeant Major Alfred Kaczmarek, and today it is displayed, framed with a golden plaque, on the wall of his office, just outside that of the Superintendent.
Colonel William Webb, currently commanding the 4th, said, “I heard about Bill before coming to the Academy. I wish I had known him. The 4th will always be Bill Ericson’s regiment.”
When it was learned that Bill was to be buried at West Point, the cadets of the 4th Regiment on duty at New Cadet Barracks asked if they might form an honor guard. They did, and a large contingent of them, on their own time, led the procession from the Catholic Chapel to the cemetery. They placed a wreath on the grave. Bill had not left them.
Bill Ericson will live through future editions of the HOWITZER. As Editor-in-Chief, his skill of coordination, understanding of others’ talents, and his own very substantial imagination and creativity resulted in the 1968 HOWITZER being one of the finest ever to come to print. Here again, Bill enhanced tradition. To my knowledge, ours was the first yearbook to take the Class from Beast Barracks through graduation, even to weddings.
Bill Ericson will live through the annals of West Point’s athletic records. He fought in the finals for the open boxing championship four times, and won it twice. Upon entering the Academy, Bill devoured Bugle Notes and set himself the goal of winning the Colonel David Marcus Memorial Award given at graduation to the outstanding boxer in the class. It was presented to Bill at the Awards Ceremony in 1968 by Major General Charles Stevenson (Ret.) with whom Bill became close friends.
It is not too difficult to do statistical research on Bill Ericson. He had the mark of greatness upon him even before he entered West Point. Wherever he went, whatever he did, he left an indelible stamp. We can determine to some degree, what he was. We can approximate what he did. Only future generations can supply the complete answer to that. But it is vital to us in the military to attempt to leam what makes a man a “soldier” of Bill Ericson’s caliber, to learn to recognize such a man in the embryo stage. Possibly there will never be another “Bill Ericson—"probably” is a better word—but we must try.
I was, I think, close to Bill through the Belvoir Preparatory School and at West Point. I was inspired. I marveled. Sometimes I wondered. But I did not make a serious attempt to analyze this unique man until the day I knew I would never see him again. I feel I have a good idea as to what he was—but not the “why.” Maybe the answer lies in his background, or at least a clue to it.
Bill, although he was not an Army brat, did hear “Army talk” in his formative years. The first house he lived in was on post at Fort Totten, New York, where his father was stationed following service with the 10th Mountain Division; but the family returned to civilian life when he was two years old. They lived on Staten Island, New York, and Long Island until Bill was twelve. They then moved to a lakeside home in Connecticut where they stayed for a year prior to buying the property in semi-rural Roxbury, Connecticut, where his parents still live.
Bill became an expert fisherman when he wasn’t much older than a toddler; and shortly after he was big enough to hold a rifle he had few peers as a hunter. His passion for these sports, and passion it was, continued throughout his abbreviated life.
In high school he lettered in baseball, basketball, and soccer. If the school had had a football team, there can be little doubt the sport would have gained one of its greatest players.
Shortly before his graduation, while he and his parents were trying to decide which college he would attend, Bill announced that he was going to defer his college education and enlist in the Airborne. Those who knew Bill will appreciate that he did a lot of “asking,” but more often he would reach a decision by himself and “announce.” It was learned only much later that he was considering a career in the military and wanted to explore it from the ground up. He did just that.
Immediately after graduating from high school in 1961, Bill reported to Fort Dix, New Jersey, for his basic and advanced infantry training. He completed the last Jump School Course given at Fort Bragg, getting his wings on 8 December 1961. Bill then joined the 504th Infantry of the 82d Airborne Division where he stayed until he entered the U.S. Military Academy Preparatory School at Fort Belvoir.
It was with the 504th, “Devils in Baggy Pants,” that Bill received his first experience with soldiering. He participated in several major maneuvers in the South. He logged more than a score of jumps, only two or three were “administrative” or “pay jumps.” All the rest were tactical.
At the time of the Cuban missile crisis, Bill was chuted up and combat equipped, standing at the door of an aircraft with its engines running. He later learned their mission was to drop on the Soviet missile sites and secure them.
Bill was with the troops sent to Oxford, Mississippi, during the school crisis. He experienced Army duty in virtually all its varied forms. His outfit went to Puerto Rico where they staged an airborne “attack” on the 10th Infantry in Panama. The DZ was just off the shores of shark-infested waters. Two planes led the formation. Standing in the door of one was the Commanding General of the 82d. Standing in the door of the other was Bill Ericson who volunteered for the spot. Why? “It was scary.”
Bill had decided on a career in the Army—a career, not a “job.” He knew he could influence the Army only by becoming one of its leaders. To him, that meant going to the Academy. Despite the limited time available to a paratrooper in the 82d, Bill, in the typical Ericson style we came to regard as routine, managed to climb the mountain of red tape involved, excel in the competitive examinations, and secure for himself an appointment to the US Military Academy Preparatory School at Fort Belvoir, Virginia. That was where I first met Bill. Looking back, it is no surprise that Bill “wound up” with the top slot, commandwise. Of course, he left his now traditional mark on the school, and they called on him for advice many times during his four years at the Academy.
Bill won one of twenty-four, I believe it was, Regular Army appointments to the Academy. Frequently during our four years at the Military Academy we were asked, “Where are you from?” Some would answer Florida, or California, or Idaho, or Tennessee. Bill Ericson would say, “I’m from the United States Army.” He considered himself to be a representative of the Army at West Point, and felt that everything he did, or didn’t do, reflected on the Army he loved so much. He was right.
All of us entered the Academy with intrepidity. Bill, too. But his was unique. While many of us were suffering the miseries of Beast Barracks, Bill was writing home with delight over how “military” he found the Academy to be. He literally loathed the prospect of going “to school” and leaving his beloved Army. And, frankly, it took him some time to get over it. But, when it got to him, and it did, he became more "West Point” than few of us will ever be.
Yet, at least twice during his years at the Point he seriously considered resigning to volunteer for duty in Vietnam. Only the wisdom of top Noncommissioned Officers, whom he respected, prevented that action. All of us benefitted from their counsel.
As if a guiding hand was steering his illustrious career, in his Yearling Year Bill met Clare Conlan, a lovely blonde from Long Island. She was representing the Balfour Company, and Bill was Chairman of the Ring and Crest Committee. Clare managed to penetrate his rough, military exterior and provide just the contrast he needed to help him through some very difficult cadet days. They were made for each other, these two people, man and woman, both of whom loved West Point, and soon they were engaged. Few couples have shared the West Point experience in as much depth, and with as much satisfaction on both sides, as did Bill and Clare.
“I am a soldier.” I have digressed, or have I? During his summer leave in 1966, Bill Ericson spent his time at the Army’s School of the Americas at Fort Gulick in the Canal Zone earning his Jungle Expert Badge. In his Plebe Year Bill enrolled in the Special Warfare School to take the Special Forces Extension Course. Somehow he completed it. In January of 1967, he was summoned to Colonel Schroeder’s office and presented with his graduate diploma—the first cadet ever to apply for or complete the course.
It would be impossible to tell the story of Bill Ericson without leaving something out. Maybe little things, but significant. For example, Bill was “establishment” at West Point—his “white sidewall” hairdo, “Strict, Tough, Military, Proud,” Army all the way—and only his classmates can know the rest. Yet, in our 100th Night Show, Bill played himself, six-striper and all. He put on a wig and grass skirt and did his best to wiggle his hips to hard rock. He was a man.
On 9 June 1968, Second Lieutenant William F. Ericson II and Clare Conlan were married in the Chapel of the Most Holy Trinity at West Point. They posed for pictures at Trophy Point after passing through the arch of crossed sabers. They held hands while cutting the cake with Bill’s saber at their reception in the Officer’s Club. Then they departed for a honeymoon in the Bahamas where they angled for bonefish, lost and won money in the casinos, and just plain honeymooned.
Returning from the islands, Bill and Clare moved into his family home in Connecticut. (His parents were living in their New York apartment.) While in Connecticut, they invited me, my wife, and a few other classmates plus Taylor Publishing representatives, and en masse, we put the finishing touches on the 1968 HOWITZER.
Bill resumed his around-the-clock way of life—up at dawn, on the go until bedtime. He made a fisherman, or fisherwoman, of Clare; and, as you might expect, set himself still another herculean task—that of completely rebuilding a 1930 Model A Ford four-door sedan. Not finished when his leave was over, Bill took the car to Bragg, worked on it during his “spare” time, and had the satisfaction of seeing it become a veritable jewel before he left for Vietnam.
Bill Ericson did not believe in “waiting to live.” Wherever he went, he took with him his wife Clare and their Siberian Huskie, Velvet. They lugged all their substantial possessions and set up their home—at Benning during branch school, and during Ranger School (which even Bill described as challenging) though he did not get home very often. They moved back and forth from Fort Benning to Fort Bragg where Bill successfully completed Jumpmaster School, earning his Senior Paratrooper Wings.
Bill was determined to complete every school open to an Airborne soldier, and he made it. On 17 April 1969, he was presented with his diploma certifying completion of the Pathfinder Course at Fort Benning.
His pre-Vietnam assignment, which he secured for himself through persistent and diligent efforts, was that of Pathfinder Officer of the 82d Airborne Division. Again, he showed the way. Even the camp newspaper reported the innovations he made in the training and use of his detachment.
Originally scheduled to leave for Vietnam on 15 July 1969, the day he was killed, Bill volunteered to leave early, and departed on 15 May 1969. Immediately upon arrival, he set out to get the assignment he wanted. He was offered a Pathfinder slot with the 101st, but turned it down saying, “I don’t give a damn for the extra pay! This is my one opportunity to command an Infantry Platoon, and I don’t want to miss it. I want that job with the 173d or the Big Red One.” He was assigned as Platoon Leader with Company A, 503d Infantry, 173d Airborne Brigade.
Like all combat-oriented soldiers, Bill felt frustrated with pacification missions. But he did his job, and did it well. On 14 July 1969, the day before his death, Bill wrote, “Our old AO is pacified. As I left the valley it was memorable to look across those beautiful rice paddies with their quaint unique farmers and characteristic water buffalo and note the development of the area in the few short months that we were operating in it. There is little or no fear that the VC will steal the rice and use the farmers for forced labor or recruitment into the VC force. The Vietnamese Army is now in force and can provide the security we won for them.
“Now—it’s combat assault time. The entire company is back at LZ Uplift preparing for an aerial combat assault into an area known as the Crescent Valley.”
As if under compulsion, Bill wrote several letters in the three or four days preceding his death on 15 July 1969. They detailed his comprehension of the necessity of his unit’s action to support a mechanized infantry outfit unable to defend itself because of immobility in terrain requiring aggressive action by foot-soldiers to combat the enemy.
The following citation which accompanied one of his awards describes how he died; “ERICSON, WILLIAM F. II 041-36-6274 FIRST LIEUTENANT INFANTRY United States Army, Company A, 1st Battalion (Airborne), 503d Infantry, 173d Airborne Brigade (Separate)
Awarded: Silver Star (Posthumous)
Date Action: 15 July 1969 Theatre: Republic of Vietnam Reason: Gallantry in Action: First Lieutenant Ericson distinguished himself by gallantry in action while engaged in military operations against an armed hostile force in the Republic of Vietnam on 15 July 1969, while serving as platoon leader with the 1st Platoon, Company A, 1st Battalion (Airborne) 503d Infantry, 173d Airborne Brigade (Separate.) On that day at approximately 2035 hours, the platoon’s night position was attacked by a Viet Cong force of unknown size. Lieutenant Ericson, the first to detect the enemy movement, gave the alarm causing the enemy to prematurely initiate the assault. His quick thinking and actions saved members of his platoon from being seriously wounded. Immediately after the assault, Lieutenant Ericson personally led a patrol out to locate the elusive enemy force. After traveling approximately one hundred meters, his patrol came under attack. This time Lieutenant Ericson charged the enemy position alone. While performing this courageous act, he was fatally wounded. Lieutenant Ericson’s extraordinary heroism in close combat against a numerically superior force was in keeping with the highest traditions of the military service and reflects great credit upon himself, his unit and the United States Army. Authority: By direction of the President under the provisions of USARV Regulation 672-1 and AR 672-5-1.”
Bill’s other decorations included the Bronze Star Medal, Air Medal, Purple Heart, Combat Infantryman Badge, Senior Parachutist Wings, Pathfinder Badge, Good Conduct Medal, Vietnam Campaign Medal, Vietnam Service Medal, National Defense Service Medal, and the New York State Conspicuous Service Cross. They were presented to Clare during a ceremony at West Point arranged by the 4th Regiment. It was attended by a large group of Academy personnel of all ranks, and by many friends and relatives.
Bill’s classmate, Bob Stroud, acted as Clare’s official escort at Bill’s funeral. He arrived at Long Island wearing the uniform of the 82d. It must be more than coincidence that he was assigned to Bill’s old outfit, the 504th, which was stationed at West Point for summer training. When the funeral procession reached the Academy, Bob phoned his unit, and during the interment ceremony the colors of the 504th were posted at the graveside.
Yes, Bill Ericson will never leave West Point. His 4th Regiment was the last to leave the Plain during reviews. Bill instituted the practice of moving, with his staff, to the grass between the sidewalk and the curb in front of the Superintendent’s quarters and reviewing his regiment as they marched to the “lost fifties.” Bill was always the last Cadet to leave the parade area. At a review in May of 1970, Bill’s family saw the current Cadet Commander of the 4th Regiment move his staff to the side and review the regiment as it left the Plain. Only this time the reviewing party placed itself opposite the new statue of General MacArthur who, like Bill, lived by the motto, "I am a soldier.”
May there be other men like them.
—Horst G. Sperber