Richard William Masson

West Point, 1955

Be Thou At Peace

Posted by Chuck Ewing on July 29, 2001:

I lived next door to those toads in F-2, and near as I could tell, none of them ever went by their real names. Their halls echoed with the likes of Rum, Hilbo, Willy, Obo, Doc, and Greaseball. Yes, Greaseball is what they called my pal, Dick Masson, but luckily it fell away. Dick was a great and beloved friend who, with his lovely Greta, lightened and brightened my early years in the Air Force. We did both primary and basic flight training together, and time has obscured the number of meals they fed me and the other bachelors. It was a glorious year, and a sad parting when we went our separate ways. Five years later, still a bachelor, I went to a school in Waco where I spent several weeks in their company, reliving old times and making new ones. Greta and Dick even dragged me into a blind date with the only woman I ever married. In the late '60s Dick came through George AFB with his C-130, and we worked a trade. I was flying F-106s, and cornered a 2-seater so I could get him out to Mach 2. He put me in the left seat of his 130 for a max performance take-off and a few other moves that taught me some respect for the Herky Bird. It was a grand day, the last time I ever saw Dick, and a perfect way to remember him. The quote under his picture in our Pilot Training Yearbook is "I signed for 30". Ever true to his promise, he did it -- with style and grace. Happy landings, Dick. Chuck

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