 Stillwell said the last word on the campaign. I claim we got a hell of a beating. We got Ronald Abramov and it's humiliating as hell. I think we ought to find out what caused it, go back and retake the place. Ladies and gentlemen, Mr. Walter Matthow. Joseph W. Stillwell had spent many years in the service of his country and was already an old man when he was called to greatness. His ordeal was both physical and mental, but he carried on where younger and stronger men fell by the wayside. He was a colorful commander, an inspiring leader and one of our great military statesmen. His basic mission was to keep the Chinese an effective fighting ally in the Second World War. He carried it out with honor and distinction. He was familiar-figured that the speckled old man in the World War I campaign had marching briskly at the head of his men as they fought their way through the jungles and across the mountains of Burma. Although his bluntness of speech earned him the nickname of Vinegar Joe, to the millions of men who served under him he was the kindest and most modest man who ever lived. To all of them he was and in memory still remains Uncle Joe. I doubt if we will see his like again. Joseph W. Stillwell was born in March of 1883, the place Palatka, Florida. His childhood and early youth, however, were to be spent in Yonkers, New York. Even in earliest years he bore the stamp in appearance and in character of much we consider typically American. There was a love for sports and in these he excelled. There were also mischievous high spirits, perhaps too high, discipline was indicated. And so the family decision to send Joseph Stillwell to the military academy at West Point. The year was 1900 and the decision a fortunate one. Few men could know as we know through hindsight that young men with qualities of courage and leadership would be needed to serve the nation through ensuing years of crisis. Between the lines of a yellowed class yearbook we can read hints of those qualities. For the young quarterback they were already winning a permanent niche among West Points for poor immortals. They were destined to serve him on fields broader than the gridiron. Graduation from the academy did not end Joseph Stillwell's association with West Point. The newly commissioned second lieutenant of infantry was to spend 11 of the next 14 years teaching a succession of classes. His field of instruction, foreign languages. A natural aptitude in these subjects was to prove as fortunate for the nation as was the decision to make the military his profession. In the crowded years not spent at the academy there would be assignment to service schools and tours of duty in the Philippines and at home. Meanwhile history was setting the stage for the first of our centuries major crises. Worldwide conflagration. In its flames untried American leadership would be tested and tempered. Joseph Stillwell would be among those to receive their baptism of fire. Over there was the patriotic song of the hour. Over there sailed young American manhood to fight in the first international conflict of our history. With the temporary rank of major Joseph Stillwell disembarked in France during the bleak disheartening December of 1917. There followed a brief period of service with the British division. Then with his fluency in French he became liaison officer with the French 17th Corps. For the young major there was now action at Verdun, Lafayre, Toulon, Saint-Mierre. For service in this last engagement Stillwell now assistant chief of staff for Army Corps received the distinguished service medal. For military attainments of a high order read the citation. With the war's end it was now Colonel Stillwell who went on to serve with the Army of Occupation within Germany. There he remained until July of 1919. By now the enthusiastic scenes welcoming American troops back to civilian life were past history. Nor for the returned professional soldier would there be any termination of service. In full recognition of his talent for language Joseph Stillwell's next assignment of duty was to take him to Peking. There to study and attain fluency in the many Chinese dialects. With him went his wife and their three children. Two more would be born during the years in China. The comfortable Stillwell home came to reflect his growing appreciation of Oriental art. It was to earn him recognition as a connoisseur. To the Chinese people around him the perceptive Stillwell brought his own humane understanding. Out of it came mutual respect and warm regard. One day in the future these would help forge military victory but before that day there were to be years of service for Joseph Stillwell. Now he must return to the United States. Beside him at Fort Benning's infantry training school fellow future general officers taught and studied. George C. Marshall or more Bradley. Names that were to become household words in a nation at war. At Fort Leavenworth's command and general staff school there were additional years of study. Then once again it was back to China. This time as military attache to the United States Embassy in Peking. Here he remained as the clash of conflicting interests between Japan and the awakening giant China led inevitably to incident and incident to all out war. The incident was Manchuria. The military machine of the Mikado required no organizing. For the military clique which then held power had long anticipated this day. The overall plan was to decimate China and reduce her province by province. Japan's modern air force would meanwhile be destroying China's sources of power to resist. Chinese courage proved no defense against the perfected military efficiency of the enemy. On hand as American observer was Colonel Joseph Stillwell. It became his grolling and unshakable conviction that the Chinese soldier was a first class fighting man. He needed only first class equipment, first class leadership. Chiang Kai-shek the one leader able to preserve Chinese unity was by now forced to withdraw to the interior city of Chongqing. From here he sought endlessly to enlist the aid of other nations. There had already occurred the Panai incident in which an American ship and Chinese waters had been sunk by Japanese bombers. This had crystallized the American sentiment that had long inclined to sympathy for China. Aid had come as young Americans volunteered their services. Acting unofficially as private citizens, one such group, the Flying Tigers, were winning fame as they took impressive toll of Japanese planes. For China's armies engaged in their unequal struggle, arms and equipment were now made available. To cut off these sources of material aid, Japan systematically occupied or blockaded one after another of China's port cities. In effect, she built a wall around China. Deprived of needed supply from without, a weakened China would be vulnerable to the heavy blows of the invading forces. Once shattered, she could be conquered piecemeal. The former American observer was now back home again, serving at California's Presidium. A major general, he commanded the Third Army Corps. Step by step, history was setting the stage for its climactic tragedy. Out of that tragedy, Joseph Stillwell would emerge to play a heroic role. From a country stunned by disaster, General Stillwell was sent to China, there to serve as Chief of General Lissomuchang Kai-shek's allied staff, and with the small American staff to take nominal command of China's Fifth and Sixth Armies. The new responsibility brought in his third star. In the absence of clear-cut allied command lines, General Stillwell's first job was to help in the defense of Burma. Burma offered the only route by which material aid could be fed into China. China must be built up, made stronger and stronger, until her allies could join her in going over to the offensive. That would be a far-off day, for her allies were preoccupied with other theaters of war. The Burma, which was to no Stillwell's exploits, had ceased to be a modern Eden of song and romantic fiction. It had become a battle field. General Stillwell and his Chinese, together without numbered British, French and Dutch, fought on, but the effort was doomed. The Japanese steamroller pushed on. It had administered humiliating defeats to the allies in the Pacific and elsewhere in Southeast Asia. It had taken over thousands of square miles, together with peoples and resources. Now it rolled across Burma. India's borders lay open to attack. Worst of all, that last vital land route the Burma rode lay useless. Once again, the old lesson must be learned. Courage alone is not enough. For the allies, withdrawal became retreat. Retreat a nightmare route. In the ordeal, Joseph Stillwell's full stature revealed itself. Refusing the comforts his age and rank might have claimed, he personally conducted one group of 400 battered troops, Burmese nurses and civilians to the safety of India. There at New Delhi, he was to utter the now classic admission of defeat and announce his determination to go back and wipe it out. Here was the honesty, the directness, the tough moral fiber that characterized the man. The battered campaign hat and shirt sleeves now became a familiar sight as the job of regrouping and training began. Supply for besieged China, cut off from her allies, must now depend on a limited number of transport planes. The few that the Allied command could make available. Forced into a round-the-clock system, these were also bringing out of China the manpower that would be needed for that return to Burma. In one such operation, 14,000 troops were carried without loss or mishap. Limited two in number were the planes needed for the thousands of Chinese fliers in training and even for those units which must continue aerial warfare against the enemy within China. American flying tigers were now a part of regular fighting forces and these still flew for their old leader, General Chennault. And now another of Joseph Stillwell's goals must be pressed. Nothing less than a new road to bypass the severed link of the old Burma road. Modern machinery and trained manpower could clear at the Indian end of the projected loop. At the China end, it was a far different story. Here it must be back-breaking manual labor with primitive tools. Men, women and even children threw themselves into the Herculean tasks. China knew what was at stake and China responded. Then from Quebec, Canada came heartening news. Allied leadership in conference authorized greater aid and a newly organized Southeast Asia command. Supreme Commander was to be Admiral Lord Louis Mountbatten, his deputy, Lieutenant General Joseph Stillwell. The increase in material aid was making greater demands upon air transport. Suddenly the hitherto ignored operation captured the imagination of the outside world. Flying over the hump became a familiar phrase. Behind the phrase lay the reality of every type of plane available. Many lacking modern instruments. Flying back and forth in unpredictable weather. Their route over uncharted and treacherous mountains. The stockpile for this, the stepchild of the war effort, was mounting. The tools of battle were now ready and waiting to help settle an old score. The sideshow war had been remembered. Air power opened the prelude to attack. And to sustain it, fighters and bombers of the newest types arrived in increasing numbers. Soon the prelude to attack was no longer a curtain raiser, but the first stage of fiery assault. The day had come. Men from China. From all parts of the British Commonwealth. From India and Burma. And from far off Africa. Men of many races, many tons, were on the march. And with General Stillwell's polyglot army, a growing number of American units. Among them were General Merrill's troops experienced fighters from the Pacific Theater. Merrill's marauders was to be their popular name as they helped make history. In the two years of preparation, General Stillwell had molded a machine to beat the enemy at his own game. Mountain and jungle warfare. Man-made weapons would exact casualties. But losses even heavier were inflicted by malaria, dysentery, hepatitis, and a wide range of tropical diseases. For the men who fought, enemy metal could hit as hard, sickness could be as crippling as in any other theater. For them, Burma was no sideshow. Supply for the men in their isolated pockets of warfare often had to come by airdrop. In twisting mile-deep canyons and jungle-covered terrain, a miss by a few yards could be as bad as missing by a few hundred miles. Seemingly everywhere was lean, raw-boned Uncle Joe as he was referred to generally. Bluntness had also earned him the title Vinegar Joe. Doubtless there were saltier names coined in the ranks. Doubtless too, Joseph Stillwell chuckled over them in private. The overworked term, soldier's soldier, has lost much luster. But Joseph Stillwell sharing the hardships and dangers of his men gave the phrase real meaning. His was the unique capacity for commanding respect and obedience while evoking a genuine affection. Perhaps no group regarded the general and the man with warmer feelings than did the Chinese troops in his command. It was no secret that General Sir, as he was called, had consistently extolled their courage and promoted their welfare, often in the face of averse opinion from above. Repaying that faith now were unbroken Chinese victories in the field. Elsewhere in southern Burma, names like the Salween and Irrawaddy rivers were back in the news. But now these were scenes of successes. It was the enemy who yielded as British-led Allied forces reclaimed more and more of Burma's soil. North and south it was the same story. An old humiliation was being erased. It was now two years since the retreat from Burma, and the 61-year-old general could see his timetable for victory working out on schedule. In the circumstances, a birthday celebration was a pleasant and well-earned respite. The presence of a son, Colonel Joseph Stillwell Jr., marked it a family occasion as well. But however welcome, such respites must be few and far between. The forgotten war in both south and north had reached its climax. The enemy knew well that each mile of ground lost in northern Burma meant another mile added to the link between India and China. The Lido Road was growing. On the heels of combat troops, often under enemy harassment, came the men who must hack out that road. The land itself fought back. Jungle growth would completely reclaim and obliterate in two weeks time. The work that neither the enemy nor disease nor climate could hold. Against the enemy, there was the rifle always close by. To fight the soil, every weapon from the axe to explosive charge was employed. The work went on. General Joseph Stillwell was almost literally dragging his road behind him. Yet as he pushed on and the enemy grudgingly yielded, the mule trail became a road. In relative safety, engineering could expand the road into a solid truck route. As at near completion, the derisive phrase, impossible road, was heard less often. Across jungle covered plateaus it stretched. Across rivers untamed since the creation. Yet now there had been harness and bridge. Across mountain ranges it traveled to narrow the gap between India and China. Then inevitably came the Great Dead, the day when a first convoy could move along its 1,044 mile length. The enemy had been pushed out of northeast Burma and the way lay clear. Considering the difficulties and the hardships that had been born in shaping its tortuous route, there seemed merit in the words of an American colonel who at the outset had said, you don't have to be crazy to do this job, but it helps. Yet the Lido Road was now a reality. The first convoy rolled into Ku-ming, a token of the supply flow to follow. Honoring the man who had weathered all opposition to build the road, it was renamed the Stillwell Road. Four months later Allied command could announce victory in Burma. What of the man who had built the road and forged that victory? The tides and cross currents of events had taken him far from what would have been his hour of triumph. Receiving his fourth star, General Stillwell came home to serve as commander of ground forces. Then off to the Pacific for a tour of battle fronts and installations. In the course of those next months, he became commander of the 10th Army. Later he was to serve as commanding general at Okinawa. But wherever the assignment, the Stillwell story remained unchanged. He was still blunt, unassuming Uncle Joe, the general with no patience for pomposity and pretence. He was still the gaunt typical American who somehow reminded of the symbolic figure Uncle Sam. More important, he was still the Joseph Stillwell with an understanding of the men in the ranks and a talent for winning their affection. It was of course his own feelings being reflected as warm feelings always are. Summer of 1945 was ending, and so too history's most devastating war. Like another great military leader who had vowed to return to the scenes of earlier defeat and erase its humiliation, General Stillwell would welcome the date September the 2nd. Aboard the battleship Missouri on that day, General of the Army Douglas MacArthur submitted the formal surrender terms to a defeated enemy. An end had come to the agonies of a tortured world. Peace had come in victory and with honor. Once again for General Stillwell, there was assignment to the Presidio, but now as a prelude to well-earned retirement. At nearby Carmel was his family and the home he loved. Here he had planned to pass the rich remaining years that lay ahead. But now a new enemy struck. This was the enemy within, one who would not be defeated. On October 12, 1946, after a short illness, Stout-hearted Joseph Stillwell died. By his own instructions, ceremony was omitted. His ashes strewn out on the Pacific, whose waters play against the shores of beautiful Carmel. Today at West Point, the general's old campaign hat and combat boots are treasured mementos. There hangs to a portrait to recall Joseph Stillwell's career of service to his country. To the men he led, an example and an inspiration to greatness.