Robert Lloyd Johnson

West Point, 1951

Be Thou At Peace

Posted by Col Walter Klein on September 23, 2008:

As I thumb through our yearbook pictures I am drawn back to more youthful days. I can almost hear the roll of Hellcat drums as we filed out to reveille before dawn, feel the anticipation of seeing grades posted in the nearby sally port, hear the Chapel bells as we prepared for evening meal. Then there were hours of study and time for parades and sports that knitted us as the Class of '51 being readied for its place on the battlefield. Among these grey-clad ranks was Bob Johnson. He being in Company H-2 and I in Company D-2 did not know each other well except through the brotherhood of being classmates and the bonds of being "area birds." Cadet life passed quickly and soon we were in Korea. Both of us served in the Second Infantry Division. In Korea, Bob lost a leg. So, too, did classmate Henry Otten. Never did I believe that years later, Bob, Henry and I would spend three years together carpooling to our Pentagon assignments. During those three years, our brotherly bonds were reactivated and strengthened as we shared our innermost feelings and set of values. It was on those daily trips between Mt. Vernon and the Pentagon that we become lifelong friends. I do recall writing to Henry a heartfelt letter in Koreas, urging him to stay in the Army despite his amputation. On reuniting, Henry was quick to remind me taht I was "to blame" for his being a "careerist." Of course, I was pleased to believe this could be true. On our many carpool trips, we never told dirty jokes and refrained from using curse words. It was evident that we carried an unspoken respect for the meaning of the Cadet Prayer. Many times we would look back to Academy days, classmates, and plebe year experiences. We carried an inherent love of the Army and regarded patriotism as a good word. Usually, Bob would lead us to the newspaper headlines of the day, whereupon we would each contribute input. Bob was indeed geopolitical in nature and relished these discussions. Human interest stories also drew his attention, especially those amplifying stupidity. We would simply laugh the miles away. At other times we attempted to solve world problems, regretting our inability to prevail. Patriotism abounded with Bob leading the way. An arch conservative, Bob despised the course of liberalism, contaminating our nation and its youth. Culture, respect for law and order were high on our list of topics. Not once did Bob or Henry ever voice their physical sacrifices. They were truly heroes, living the code of the Corps where our flag was always honored and where civil conduct prevailed. I remember Bob as a sincere, dedicated soldier, a paragon of stability, and a gentleman with a kind heart, passionately living a religious life encompassing his family. Bob never compromised high standards. Often we would reflect on our wives and children. There were no family secrets, and we would roar with laughter at anecdotes of home events. It was as if we all lived under one roof. This camaraderie was especially present as we came home from a day's activity. When it was my turn in the carpool, I would drive my little narrow Opel station wagon down the "No Parking" lane in Alexandria, passing the lines of backed up traffic and at a good rate of speed, something that Henry's enormous Checker cab was simply too wide to do. One time we picked up a rider at the Pentagon, sharing the room of Henry's Checker cab. While traveling through Alexandria in the backed up traffic, the rider suddenly confessed that his "pet peeve" was the "little white Opel" that used the parking lane to race past the lanes of existing stalled traffic. Of course, that was the faux pas of the day, bringing on the uncontrolled laughter of Bob, Henry and me. So passed our many days together, three years of carpooling and a thousand laughs. Each in turn left these events behind us for new pastures, taking old memories. Henry was first to take his place in the Long Grey Line. Bob was next. My eyes well up as I write. For me, it is best said by Oliver Wendell Holmes in "The Last Leaf": And if I should live to be The last leaf upon the tree In the spring Let them smile as I do now At the old forsaken bough Where I cling. For Bob Johnson and Henry Otten I offer as an epitaph an ancient creed that captures the spirit of their journeys through life: WE WILL NEVER BRING DISGRACE TO THIS OUR CITY BY ANY ACT OF DISHONESTY OR COWARDICE. WE WILL FIGHT FOR THE IDEALS AND SACRED THINGS OF THE CITY BOTH ALONE AND WITH MANY. WE WILL REVERE AND OBEY THE CITY LAWS AND DO OUR BEST TO INCITE A LIKE RESPECT AND REVERENCE IN THOSE ABOVE US WHO ARE PRONE TO ANNUL OR TO SET THEM AT NAUGHT: WE WILL STRIVE UNCEASINGLY TO QUICKEN THE PUBLIC'S SENSE OF CIVIC DUTY THUS IN ALL THESE WAYS WE WILL TRANSMIT THIS CITY NOT ONLY, NOT LESS BUT GREATER, BETTER AND MORE BEAUTIFUL THAN WAS TRANSMITTED TO US. Pledge of the Youth of Athens, Greece at the time of Greece's Golden Years.

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