Westmoreland: The General Who Lost Vietnam on William Westmoreland

“Kitsy was widely liked and admired by the West Point community, where she involved herself in many aspects of post life. Cadet Mark Sheridan met her while he was hospitalized for repair of torn ligaments. "An incredibly beautiful and sweet woman appeared at my bedside," he recalled. She asked how he was doing and how he felt about West Point. "All my life," he said, "this is where I wanted to go and this is the school I wanted to graduate from." Then she asked, "What do you think of the Supe?" "With all due respect, ma'am, I think he's a prick." Kitsy: "That's my husband." Pause. "Pardon me, ma'am, that's my morphine talking."”

“The Military Academy during Westmoreland's superintendency was still an all-male institution, as it would remain until 1976. Soon after that Westmoreland revealed his opposition to coeducation in an oral history interview. "I was aware that there would be political pressures," he acknowledged, "but I thought they would be resisted. I think the academies, the Department of the Army, and the Department of Defense got caught napping on this one and, in my opinion, if they had mounted a countercurrent against it, it was a matter that could have been defeated." He discussed it again during a 1980 appearance on a Larry King radio program. "Are you happy about that?" asked King, referring to the presence of women at West Point. "Actually, very frankly, I am not," Westmoreland told him. "I was against this as a matter of principle, but they're there now, and I must say I admire the performance of those who have been able to endure the curriculum and the rigors of the system." These views were consistent with Westmoreland's outlook while Superintendent. West Point's ice hockey coach learned about that one time when his daughter Mary Beth said to Westmoreland, "When I grow up I'm going to come to West Point." Westmoreland's reply was blunt: "Over my dead body!"”

“An unfortunate flap marred Westmoreland's last full day as Superintendent. Apparently he had been returning from the tennis courts and two First Classmen who were sunning themselves did not see him, so they did not leap up and salute. Cadet Richard Chilcoat, soon to be appointed First Captain for the coming year, was then "King of Beasts", the senior cadet on the detail training new plebes. That night at 11:00 he got a call from Westmoreland, who said he wanted to address the detail the next morning. Chilcoat had everybody in ranks at 6:00AM, expecting a stirring departure speech. Instead Westmoreland, standing on the stoops of barracks, harangued them for fifteen minutes on their lack of discipline, lack of military courtesy, and so on. Then, remembered Chilcoat, "He stomped back to his quarters and, an hour later, drove away. This had a permanent, and negative, effect on the Class of 1964."”

“A very influential visitor, Senator "Fritz" Hollings from Westmoreland's home state of South Carolina, had warned him about relying on such ratios. Westmoreland told him, "We're killing these people at a rate of 10 to 1." To that Hollings responded, "Westy, the American people don't care about the ten. They care about the one."”

“Only a few days after the Ia Drang, the 2nd Battalion, 7th Cavalry, was back at the division base camp at An Khe on a cold and rainy Thanksgiving. Lieutenant Colonel Robert McDade, the battalion commander, met a visiting Westmoreland near the mess hall and told him that everyone was just about ready to eat their Thanksgiving dinners. But Westmoreland told him, "Get them all together and let me talk to them." The troops had been issued a hot meal, real coffee instead of the powdered stuff that came with C-Rations, turkey, and the trimmings. They were walking back to their squad tents to enjoy this special repast when the order was given to assemble. "There stood General Westmoreland himself," said Sergeant John Setelin. "He made a speech there in the rain and while he talked we watched the rain turn that hot dinner into cold Mulligan stew. Who knew what the hell the man said? Who cared?"”

“Westmoreland departed this life the evening of 18 July 2005 at the Episcopal retirement home where he and Kitsy then resided. He was ninety-one. The New York Times obituary referred to him as the officer "who failed to lead the United States forces to victory in Vietnam from 1964 to 1968 and then made himself the most prominent advocate for recognition of their sacrifices, spending the rest of his life paying tribute to his soldiers."”

“On Saturday, 23 July 2005, Westmoreland was buried at West Point at a gravesite he had chosen when he was Superintendent there. It was an idyllic summer day, with a deep blue sky dotted with puffy white clouds, and hot. The provost marshal had anticipated throngs comparable to those on a football weekend. Thus military policemen spaced at intervals ringed the cemetery grounds, prepared to deal with traffic and crowds that never came.”

“In later years Westmoreland, widely regarded as a general who lost his war, also lost his only run for political office, lost his libel suit, and lost his reputation. It was a sad ending for a man who for most of his life and career had led a charmed existence. In his final days, it could never be said that he'd been broken, for his still maintained the mien and demeanor of the glory days, much of the "look of eagles" his splendid countenance had always afforded him, the obvious expectation of being admired and courted by others. But, at least with family and, back in his native South Carolina, certain very old friends and some new admirers, elements of his youthful charm seem to have reemerged. Said his daughter Stevie, describing those last years, "every day we're seeing less and less General and more and more Daddy."”