<p>
On Saint Valentine’s Day, 1948, a very gallant gentleman, <em>George Horace Morgan</em>, Colonel, United States Army (Retired), died. Statistically, he was an old man; he was ninety-three years and six weeks, more or less; by statistics his death wasn’t unexpected. But figures, like the weatherman, are not always infallible, and Colonel Morgan, while never arguing with Benjamin Franklin’s famous remark to M. Leroy concerning taxes, by his continual good health, his ever-fresh and continuing youthfulness, his sly but good-natured amusement at the present-day pickles of a bumptious world was for those who knew him (and therefore loved him) a refutation of Poor Richard’s certainty. He still is. An irreverent but adoring granddaughter once said: “Gramps, I know now why that horse, renowned for its stamina, is called Morgan”. The colonel chuckled; being a cavalryman he was flattered.</p>
<p>
George H. Morgan was a cavalryman of the United States Army. The two went together. It was his profound belief that the latter would always be dependent on the former (“You know,” he said, when he heard that the Army was selling its horses, “the Emperor Trajan thought that horses had passed their usefulness. We may not see it, but horses will be back, stronger and as useful as ever ...’’). His creed, however, was the latter: the United States Army. He was her most loyal and devoted son. To him, service to his country was the highest ideal that any man could have. That he succeeded in his ideal was readily apparent in the starred, light blue rosette he wore in his lapel. It was more apparent if you knew him and if you could read his record, which is an important segment of American history ...</p>
<p>
When George H. Morgan was born in 1855, a naval commodore had just concluded a treaty with a mysterious country in the Far East; three years still had to pass before a message could be cabled to Europe; Florence Nightingale was ministering to the sick and wounded in the bloody war between Britain, France and Russia; and our own civil war was six years away.</p>
<p>
He was a year old when his family moved to St. Anthony, Minnesota. It was a small town, whose falls were to attract first a milling industry and then a change of name—Minneapolis. He was twenty-one years of age and a school teacher when he passed a competitive examination and was appointed to the United States Military Academy at West Point.</p>
<p>
It was natural he would be attracted to army life; his father had relinquished a thriving business to organize the 1st Minnesota Volunteers; a regiment that history will always remember as the keystone of a Union victory at a place called Gettysburg.</p>
<p>
For an appointee to the Academy, class of 1880, from distant Minnesota the journey to the Hudson Highlands was long and hard: horseback to the river, boat to Chicago, and then rail to New York. The incoming class had to report early that year; there was to be intensive drilling for the whole corps of cadets—the United States would be one hundred years old on July 4th, and there was to be a parade in Philadelphia; the plebes had to have some polish! (“I had the darndest time getting to the Point,” he said. “I knew it was east, so I headed east. From where I started, east put me in Canada, and I spent so much time in the purlieus of Canada, I nearly was late reporting ...”)</p>
<p>
Four years later, though, in 1880, there was a new second lieutenant in the United States Army, and the 3rd Cavalry at Fort Washakie, Wyoming, had a new officer. He was a popular officer; he had a way with animals, human and otherwise. He knew horses, which was well for a cavalryman, and he also had a pet bear. (“Best pet I ever had.” he said. “It terrified a young lady alighting from a stage to visit friends at the Post. I rescued her gallantly and she later became my wife.”)</p>
<p>
These were the days of the Indian Wars, and young Lieutenant Morgan learned about the Utes and the Apaches. They learned about Lieutenant Morgan too, especially the latter at Big Dry Wash in Arizona on July 17, 1882. The citation accompanying his Medal of Honor reads simply: “For distinguished conduct in action against hostile Apache Indians at the Big Dry Wash, Arizona, July 17, 1882, by gallantly holding his ground at a critical moment and firing upon the advancing enemy until himself disabled by a shot; while 2nd Lieutenant, 3rd Cavalry, and serving as a volunteer with Lieutenant West’s command of Indian scouts and Troop I, 6th Cavalry” The lead that disabled him was a dumdum; he carried it for the rest of his life. (The Indian? “When he got me,” Morgan said, “he was so pleased he started to jump around and do a sort of victory dance. He was an easy target. I guess he was the last one, for we weren’t bothered any more.”)</p>
<p>
His marksmanship, that had proved so valuable that day, distinguished many a rifle competition from Arizona to Texas, for after he had recovered from his severe wounds—a convalescence that enabled him to continue his courtship and wed Molly Brownson of Omaha, Nebraska,—Lieutenant Morgan’s duty with the Third Cavalry took him to most of the frontier posts of an expanding United States.</p>
<p>
From October 10, 1891, to October 1, 1895, he was Professor of Military Science and Tactics at the University of Minnesota. He was student as well as teacher; during this time he studied law, and was admitted to the Minnesota bar in 1895. (“What we need today,” he said in 1947, “are lawyers with a basic idea of justice. I think maybe I’ll start practicing.”) The following year he was promoted to Captain, commanding Troup H of the Third Cavalry, which he led up San Juan Hill in the Spanish War on July 1. 1898, to win a Silver Star for gallantry and a promotion to Brevet Major.</p>
<p>
After the war, In January 1899, he rejoined his troop and regiment at Augusta, Georgia, where he was instrumental in quelling a mutiny of volunteers. Then followed a few months of comparative quiet in assignment to Fort Myer, Virginia.</p>
<p>
Morgan, however, was a soldier, and although the United States had won a war. it was not yet at peace. Half a world away the insurrectos in the Philippines were putting serious obstacles in the way of their liberators from Spanish rule. Therefore, on November 23. 1899, Morgan arrived in Manila in command of the 1st Battalion, 28th U.S. Volunteer Infantry, and for the next two years was in almost continual action. The new century was only a week old when at Putol Bridge, Luzon, Morgan again distinguished himself and won his second Silver Star. By January 20 he had marched his battalion to, and taken possession of, Taal District, Batangas Province, and after acting as Inspector General of Southern Luzon, he sailed in December with his regiment to Caygayan de Misimis and participated in the campaign that resulted in General Capistrano’s capture and the establishment of civil government in that section.</p>
<p>
After he had been mustered out of the volunteer service with his regiment, Morgan rejoined the Third Cavalry. He was aide to General Bell and Chief Commissary of the brigade in the Malavar campaign, December 1901 to April 1902, and while in command of the Taal District, participated in the first important surrender of the insurrectos on January 12, 1902. In April, he returned home and was assigned a year later as Major, 9th Cavalry, to Fort Assinniboine, Montana.</p>
<p>
For the next two years, Major Morgan was again Professor of Military Science and Tactics at the University of Minnesota, rejoining his squadron of the 9th Cavalry at Fort Riley, Kansas, on October 3, 1905. While on duty there, he was member and President of the Cavalry Board, President of the Cavalry Examining Board, and at times director of the school.</p>
<p>
On December 6, 1906, he was appointed Adjutant General. From the following June until August 1909 he performed a tour of duty in the Philippines as Adjutant General of the Department of Visayas, of the brigade at Fort William McKinley, Rizal, and as Justice of the Peace. Back in the United States, he received his lieutenant colonelcy in the 11th Cavalry on 3 March 1911, and after a tour of duty at Fort Oglethorpe. Georgia, he was assigned to Fort Leavenworth to take the Field Officer’s Course, then to Winchester, Virginia, at the Camp of Instruction, and then in August 1913 to the Army War College.</p>
<p>
Promoted to colonel on April 26, 1914, he commanded the 15th Cavalry and Post at Fort Bliss, Texas, until August, when he was assigned first to the 7th Cavalry and then, in October, to the 8th Cavalry. He was chief of staff of the 13th Militia District from December 1915 until August 1916, and when the United States entered the First World War. He was in command of a provisional cavalry regiment of the 10th Provisional Division. Although he was greatly disappointed that he was unable to take a regiment overseas, Colonel Morgan’s experience in past wars made him invaluable in training the rapidly mobilized troops. Training and selecting cantonment sites occupied his energies, and in 1917 he again assumed command of a regiment, the 17th Cavalry at Douglas, Arizona: a command he held until his retirement on New Year’s Day of 1919, five short years before the death of his beloved wife.</p>
<p>
Those who knew Colonel Morgan will always remember his energy, his wit and his infinite good humor. His love for tile service he handed on to his children and their children—of five daughters, three married into the Army and one into the Navy; of five grandsons, four are Academy graduates, to the fifth (a civilian and Naval Reservist) he bequeathed his precious class ring. (“He’s the only one without one,” he explained before he died. “He ought to have it.” I think he knows I will treasure it.)</p>
<p>
West Point was foremost among his loyalties. Absence at the annual graduation ceremonies at the Military Academy was as unthinkable to him as his death was to his friends. For many years he was the Academy’s oldest living graduate and the week’s festivity was the high point of each of his later years. His health was remarkable for one of his age; on the twelfth of January, having a bad cold he was admitted to Walter Reed Hospital. He was recovering from that when, as usual never allowing anyone to be bothered on his account, he got out of bed without assistance, slipped and broke his shoulder. Even then his general recovery did not seem retarded. It was therefore a complete surprise when on the 14th of February his remarkably strong constitution weakened and, quietly and without pain. Colonel Morgan joined his classmates. His life had been active and of service. He asked no more; he gave all that was in his capacity to give. And that was considerable. His pride was the Army; never has the Army had a prouder possession.</p>
<p>
<em>—E.N.P.</em></p>
<p>
</p>