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<em>“Sunset and evening start,</em></div>
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<em>And one clear call for me!...”</em></div>
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From his youth to the untimely sunset of his life, <em>John A. Ryan</em> harkened to a call as clear at the end as in the beginning: military service to his country, and devotion to the ideals of West Point.</div>
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Superbly educated in secondary schools in New York and New Jersey, John, known as “Jack” to his classmates, eagerly sought an appointment to the Military Academy. It was not forthcoming for three years, during which he studied Naval Engineering and Architecture at the prestigious Massachusetts Institute of Technology. When his appointment finally materialized, John heard the call loud and clear and joined the ranks of 1942.</div>
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After World War II, family imperatives obliged John to resign his commission. Within less than a year he stalked the Pentagon seeking extended active duty and eventually a new regular commission at the bottom of the promotion ladder. Within a decade, his aircraft design and engineering talents were coveted by the aerospace industry; he steadfastly spurned enticing offers in favor of his chosen calling.</div>
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At West Point Jack coped easily with academics and busied himself in a variety of activites. Many recall his flying fists in the boxing ring and between-rounds pugnacious glare at his Army opponent. Outside the ring his gentle Irish whimsy and willingness to help others over the tough spots were reciprocated by the friendship of all who knew him well. An excerpt from his <em>HOWITZER </em>biography sums it up: “In this jolly roly-poly little figure lurks the ambition of a Caesar, the horse sense of a Lincoln, and the fastidiousness of a Dutch housewife.”</div>
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Jack successfully completed flight training after graduation, despite occasional bouts of airborne absentmindedness. These stemmed from his idea that each instructional flight was not only for masters of stick and rudder, but a chance to analyze the arcane aspects of aerodynamics. Typically, after making a short landing approach to an auxiliary field and clearing out some brush with his landing gear, he drove back to the scene to check out the flight path. He also triumphantly returned with a shattered mesquite log as a souvenir of his near miss. Posted to a fighter group in Europe in 1944, Jack, on an early mission became separated from his wingmates, and true to character tackled a covey of German fighters. He was shot down and spent the remainder of the war in Musberg Prison Camp, Germany.</div>
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After the war John entered Massachusetts Institute of Technology to attain a Master of Science degree in Areonautical Engineering, specializing in instrumentation. His career thereafter was devoted to Research and Development, and in the late fifties he conceived of and developed the instrumentation for what later was designated as the Low Altitude Bombing System (LABS). This aroused the aforementioned interest in the aerospace industry to lure him from military duty. He settled for a Legion of Merit and stayed at what he considered to be his post of duty.</div>
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In 1963 he was selected to attend the Industrial College of the Armed Forces. Before the intensive ten-month course was underway he had already waded through the material in the curriculum. By June 1964, when the course ended, he had also achieved a master’s degree in Business Administration from George Washington University.</div>
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With his star literally in the ascendancy, in 1966 John was felled by a massive cardiac arrest. His name was stricken from the forthcoming Generals’ promotion list, and for almost two years, his brilliant mind clouded by the aftermath, he languished in the hospital. He regained a semblance of health and, most importantly, the use of his mental faculties, with the help of his beloved “Annie,” herself an Air Force widow, and therapist, who patiently coaxed and prodded him to restore his health. After his discharge from a Veterans’ Administration Hospital, he and Ann were married and lived a quiet life of mutual devotion. During those years he regaled Ann with reminiscences of his life and friendships at West Point. In her letter to the Class of 1942, following his last fatal heart attack, Ann put it best: “For the rest of my life there is one experience that will remain forever green, and that is John’s undying loyalty and devotion to West Point.”</div>
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<em>“...Twilight and evening bell,</em></div>
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<em>And after that the dark!</em></div>
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<em>And may there be no sadness of farewell,</em></div>
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<em>When I </em><em>embark.”</em></div>
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<em>“Crossing the Bar” Lord Alfred Tennyson</em></div>
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<em>—A Classmate</em></div>