rs of the Lyman Ward Military Academy [LWMA] to name a building for General Futch; they responded by offering Brunner the chance to select the appropriate venue himself. The problem with having a larger-than-life hero is that any building never seems quite grand enough to fit the bill. Frustrated and disappointed, Brunner headed to the parade field to think. He had inadvertently steered himself to the very field on which thousands of military service members had drilled, and no more appropriate tribute was conceivable once the notion had entered his head (Brunner 2).
A mere two years after discovering his quest, Brunner and some of his fellow LWMA alumni had personally footed the bill for the construction of a monument to be placed on the field in the General’s honor. The response was overwhelming. The amount needed was soon met, and contributions were soon turned away. Fulch died that year at the age of ninety-six years- only one day short of ninety-seven; he was a survivor as a service member and as a civilian. He was laid to rest with full military honors in Arlington National Cemetery, and one of his daughters filled in for him as the guest of honor at the ceremony that officially dubbed the field the Brigadier General T.L. Futch Parade Field. It was made of brick- the very bricks that had graced the walls of his office in Russell Hall before it burned down in 1985.
West Point also saw fit to include the dedication of the parade field in its July 1993 newsletter. A copy of this article, which was submitted by one of Futch’s daughters, stands today in West Point’s Tallapoosa Hall (Brunner 3-4). His division (the thirty-fifth) was legendary for its contributions to World War II and the fight against the Nazis. It was a desperate time following the attacks on Pearl Harbor, and men were afraid. It took strong men to lead them. Although not a general at the time, Futch fought valiantly and founded the legacy of military excellence for which he was known