3 min read ·
Memorial Day ·
Eulogy
A note on tense
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I deny that I died for anything.
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An officer killed in Vietnam wrote his own eulogy before he died. It ran in the New York Times in 1971.
“I deny that I died for anything — not my country, not my Army, not my fellow man, none of these things. I LIVED for these things.”
“If there is nothing worth dying for — in this sense — there is nothing worth living for.”
— John Alexander Hottell, West Point Class of 1964
I heard his story told in the old chapel at West Point this April, not for the first time.
Then I walked outside to the cemetery.
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A friend of my daughter is buried there, her classmate. My daughter describes her as one of the finest people you would ever meet. She believed God is love. She died in a convoy accident in Germany.
Her family was there. Her parents. Her brother. Her sister stood quietly nearby. They spoke about her — what she meant, who she was, what she left behind.
They were one of several families who came to meet with the entire class — the class about to affirm their decision to serve. At West Point, cadets may resign without obligation until that moment. After it, they belong to the Army.
Her family came so those cadets would know the weight of that decision.
At the end, they handed out gratitude journals with her photo on the inside cover and a prayer card.
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To all who gave the final measure of devotion, and to all who grieve them — thank you.
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FOOTNOTES
* A note on tense: The subject line gives careful readers pause — I deny is present tense, died is past. Hottel wrote his own eulogy before he was killed in Vietnam. He wrote it in the present tense, as if still alive, still speaking. Which, in a way, he is.
*Hailey Hodsden, USMA 2021, July 5, 1999 to August 1, 2023, was honored by her family at the April cemetery tour. Read her full obiturary here.
Hailey Elizabeth Hodsden, 24 of Dripping Springs, Texas died on 1 August 2023 in a training accident in Grafenwoehr, Germany while serving as a Scout Platoon Leader in the 2nd US Cavalry Regiment. Hailey was born on July 5th, 1999, in Austin Texas.
**Read Hottell’s full eulogy USMA here.
Hottell, John A.
December 24, 1942 – July 7, 1970
Among the many extraordinary accomplishments of Alex Hottell was the premonitory letter (mentioned above) to his beloved Linda, written in the event of his death in Vietnam, which became part of his obituary and was published in the New York Times.
He wrote:
I am writing my own obituary for several reasons, and I hope none of them are too trite. First, I would like to spare my friends, who may happen to read this, the usual cliches about being a good soldier. They were all kind enough to me and I not enough to them. Second, I would not want to be a party to perpetuation of an image that is harmful and inaccurate: “glory” is the most meaningless of concepts, and I feel that in some cases it is doubly damaging. And thirdly, I am quite simply the last authority on my own death.
I loved the Army: it reared me, it nurtured me, and it gave me the most satisfying years of my life. Thanks to it I have lived an entire lifetime in 26 years. It is only fitting that I should die in its service. We all have but one death to spend, and insofar as it can have any meaning it finds it in the service of comrades-in-arms.
And yet, I deny that I died FOR anything — not my Country, not my Army, not my fellow man, none of these things. I LIVED for these things, and the manner in which I chose to do it involved the very real chance that I would die in the execution of my duties. I knew this, and accepted it, but my love for West Point and the Army was great enough — and the promise that I would someday be able to serve all the ideals that meant anything to me through it was great enough — for me to accept this possibility as a part of a price which must be paid for all things of great value. If there is nothing worth dying for –in this sense– there is nothing worth living for.
The Army let me live in Japan, Germany, and England with experiences in all of these places that others only dream about. I have skied in the Alps, killed a scorpion in my tent camping in Turkey, climbed Mount Fuji, visited the ruins of Athens, Ephesus, and Rome, seen the town of Gordium where another Alexander challenged his destiny, gone to the Opera in Munich, plays in the West End of London, seen the Oxford- Cambridge rugby match, gone for pub crawls through the Cotswolds, seen the night-life in Hamburg, danced to the Rolling Stones, and earned a master’s degree in a foreign university.
I have known what it is like to be married to a fine and wonderful woman and to love her beyond bearing with the sure knowledge that she loves me; I have commanded a company and been a father, priest, income-tax advisor, confessor, and judge for 200 men at one time; I have played college football and rugby, won the British National Diving Championship two years in a row, boxed for Oxford against Cambridge only to be knocked out in the first round and played handball to distraction — and all of these sports I loved, I learned at West Point. They gave me hours of intense happiness.
I have been an exchange student at the German Military Academy, and gone to the German Jumpmaster School, I have made thirty parachute jumps from everything from a balloon in England to a jet at Fort Bragg. I have written an article that was published in Army magazine, and I have studied philosophy.
I have experienced all these things because I was in the Army and because I was an Army brat. The Army is my life, it is such a part of what I was that what happened is the logical outcome of the life I lived. I never knew what it is to fail, I never knew what it is to be too old or too tired to do anything. I lived a full life in the Army, and it has exacted the price. It is only just.
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