But whether on the scaffold high
Or in the battle's van,
The fittest place where man can die
Is where he dies for man!
RAY DIED AS HE LIVED — for man! However, he would not wish to have his life portrayed as a series of spectacular contributions to men, for it was in the small things that he excelled. His was the gift of bringing relief to the dull moments, spirited participation to the competitive ones, and comradeship to the joyous ones. These are accomplishments which never seem extraordinary in their time, but which are treasured when they are recalled by those of us who enjoyed his friendship. His death, likewise, was not on some foreign battlefield, but as the result of a training accident during a night flight at Moody AFB, Georgia, while he was undergoing training as an interceptor pilot. We may not glamorize his life or death, for that would not be as Ray would want it. Both he risked, and gave, for man in whatever manner it might come.
He was the son of Mrs. Raynor Garey and the late Colonel Garey. Ray did not enter service life when he climbed the hill from the station in July 1950. No, his entry predated that occasion by 19 years when he entered this world at the station hospital at Fort Bragg, North Carolina. As most army children, his childhood was spent at various posts throughout this and other countries. Of these years he would speak fondly, but his family's three years in Hawaii were foremost among these memories.
After his father's retirement, his family settled in the Garey family home in North East, Maryland. Here Ray spent his last few years of high school, winning there, also, many friends, as is evidenced by his election to Senior Class President.
Following high school came a year at Johns Hopkins where Ray majored in Chemical Engineering. This was quickly abandoned the following Spring when he received his appointment to the Military Academy. His years there among us followed the usual cadet routine, but never to the exclusion of his friends, and there were none among his classmates who was not his friend. Finding little difficulty with Academics, he cheerfully gave help to those who did. Soccer and his soon-to-be-wife, Sue, were his chief interests. Thus, with a minimum of anguish he passed through his four years, emerging as a Second Lieutenant in the Regular Air Force.
Primary Pilot Training was spent at Bartow AB, Florida. The long training schedule did not prevent him from enjoying and sharing the recreational pleasures of Florida's Lake Country. Being fortunate enough to rent a lakeside cottage, his home was naturally a retreat during off-duty time. Fishing, swimming, and water-skiing provided the lighter entertainment, but more serious pastimes were also included. Any discussion on history, politics, or the service found Ray a willing participant. He read a great amount, the great captains of The War Between The States being his favorite. After a hard day of flying and academics, his home was a haven for body and spirit, which he was happy to share with all.
Probably the happiest days Ray spent were at Greenville AFB, Mississippi, for their family was blessed with a daughter, Susan Kay. The joy which she brought to her parents fulfilled the promise of their home. Many a bachelor reappraised his cherished freedom after a visit with the Gareys. The Pilot Training Program for Jet Fighters, which Ray was undergoing, was a new and exciting experience. Ray mastered the techniques of this flying easily and was graduated in November 1955. At this time he received his pilot's wings and was assigned to F-94 advanced training at Moody AFB, Georgia. Here Ray and his family lived until his untimely death.
Ray is buried at West Point cemetery. Here among so many others who served and died with and for their fellow men, he richly deserves a place. We who remain may best revere his memory by striving to live as he lived.
Wherever "The Corps" is sung, Raynor Garey, you most certainly deserve their "Well Done!" May God rest your soul.
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