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<em>John Michel Nash,</em> known to his classmates, family, and friends as “Mike,” was born on 21 Mar 1937 and raised on a small farm in central Indiana, about an hour north of Indianapolis. When Mike started school, World War II was the primary news of the day. He was shaped and forged by the insistent labor requirements of a farm and the economic deprivation of the war. Mike’s Uncle Joe was a West Point graduate who served with GEN Patton. I have little doubt that Mike’s ultimate choice of West Point be­gan its germination then.</p>
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Mike started flying early, though airplanes were not his first vehicle of flight. Dad cau­tioned us to stay away from the draft horses, especially their backs, where they couldn’t see us. Mike’s response to this was typical Mike. He would run at the horse’s tail, grab it, and swing on it. So, his first flight was on a mare’s tail, and, from there, he spent the rest of his life always flying higher and faster.</p>
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Mike and his three brothers, Andy, Pat and Tim, lived a little of the life of Eden, rich earth and green fields. There was much work to be done, but there were many exciting places to play, so long as one liked the outdoors. Mike loved to go hunting in the woods and sleep outside under the stars. We would lie in our sleeping bags, watch the stars, and...dream.</p>
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At that time, airplanes were growing in number faster than airports to handle them. As a result, pilots sometimes sought gasoline and maintenance on farms with nicely groomed fields which served equally well as landing strips. The pilots’ requests for fuel always were accommodated, and commonly they would stay for a meal. I’m confident that Mike’s love of airplanes started there. From then on, aviation was an ever-present factor in Mike's life.</p>
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Art was also an interest of Mike's. He was always called upon during the Army-Navy games to help make the posters for the quad. If his West Point classmates look at their Class crest on their graduation rings, they’ll see some lines and images drawn by Mike. With this creative streak and his affection for model airplanes, Mike was soon building his own models from his own designs. He once built a beautiful float plane designed to land on water. It was a free flight, gasoline-powered model. On the day of launch, it flew so well that it flew away and never came back. That’s kind of what Mike did; he flew so well that, one day, he flew away and never came back.</p>
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Mike’s desire to be a West Pointer was strong. To the best of my knowledge, he broke his ankle just prior to reporting to Beast Barracks. I say “to the best of my knowledge,” because he wouldn’t go to the doctor. If the doctor said it was, in fact, broken, he couldn’t report to West Point. So that ankle got soaked, iced, and wrapped. As far as I know, he got through Beast on that ankle because he graduated four years later.</p>
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In addition to the lasting friendships estab­lished at West Point, Mike met the woman of his dreams there also: Mary Jane Guttilla, from New York City. Mike’s <em>Howitzer</em> open­ing entry reads: <em>“Bright eyed and bushy tailed, I came to West Point from high school in Indiana. ” </em>Only West Point could take a country boy from a tiny town in Indiana and shape the officer and gentleman that could attract such a woman as Mary Jane. She was the light of his life and greatly admired by his brothers and classmates. Mary Jane was the one thing that Mike loved more than the Corps and airplanes. One of Mike’s classmates wrote:</p>
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<em>He and I spent part of one sum­mer together between cadet assign­ments and our summer leaves. I thought that I knew Mike fairly well because I had gone to his home during the previous summer, However, t</em><em>he next academic year, after he met Mary Jane, it was as if he had fallen off the end of the earth. We never saw Mike again in our area of the barracks. As far as I know, as a cadet, he spent every possible waking moment with Mary Jane.</em></p>
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Mary Jane particularly appreciated Mike’s wonderful sense of humor. She re­calls this being alluded to in the <em>Howitzer, </em>where we are reminded that Mike had an endless supply of bad jokes.</p>
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Mary Jane and Mike married after gradu­ation and eventually had a son. He was born while his father was in Viet Nam. Mike never returned from Viet Nam; Mike never saw his son. That Mary Jane found the strength, courage, and determination to shoulder the loss and build a new life reminds us: <em>Those who stay behind also “serve."</em></p>
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A full chronology of Mike’s life is impos­sible because we don’t know everything that happened on that fateful day in 1966. All we know beyond a reasonable doubt is Mike didn’t come back. “Wings” were a significant part of Mike’s youth, adult life, and last day. I know Mike was proud of his Army aviator’s wings; I know he was lifted up that last day on the wings of a very good airplane. Subse­quently anti-aircraft fire reduced his plane to a flaming, shattered hulk from which Mike was lifted on eagles’ wings. When the eagles could fly no higher, I like to think Mike was then lifted on angels’ wings and taken straightaway to his heavenly Father, from whom he could hear the wonderful words, <em>Well done, my good and faithful servant. Welcome home.</em></p>
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So, the Long Gray Line marches inexora­bly on. Although understandably saddened at his loss, Mike’s family is pleased and proud that, as a West Pointer, he is warmly, safely, and permanently woven into the fabric of such a rich and enduring tradition.</p>
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<em>—Dane P. Nash, brother</em></p>
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