Like most of us who’d spent a few minutes in the Regimental Headquarters of the 3d US Infantry Regiment (The Old Guard) waiting for a meeting to start, loitering after a meeting, or hoping that time would pass more quickly while we were on duty, I’d checked out the pictures of the former Regimental Commanding Officers (RCOs) on the wall of the Regimental Conference Room. I sometimes engaged in superficial assessments of the group based solely on their photos. Which RCO looked like the most pleasant? Which RCO looked like the nastiest? Which one had the most impressive set of awards and decorations?
These games weren’t all that productive, but they did seem to pass the time.
On slightly more careful inspection, I noted how many of these guys were OLD! With some rudimentary arithmetic, I quickly figured out that several of even the more modern RCOs had been commissioned BEFORE I’D BEEN BORN. My guess, at the time, was those officers—adorning the walls with very few smiles among them—were unquestionably stuffy, entirely unapproachable, and would not be all that interesting in person.
About then, it seemed, the meeting started, some emergency arose, or I had something else on my schedule. I’d likely never meet any of those guys, so I rarely gave those “old” RCOs much more thought.
It was well over a decade after I first reviewed the officers on that wall that I first met Colonel (Retired) Bill Williamson. He had been RCO number 64. (Or so it seemed. Read on.) RCOs with numbers of 80 or above have been in command for a while now. When I met this man with a number in the early sixties, well…I’d already made my mind up. I should be polite and respectful, but not expect much of value in return. Again, this fellow was one of the really “old” guys.
How wrong I was.
It might not be surprising if those who had commanded 3d Infantry Regiment (The Old Guard); men who had walked with Presidents, Prime Ministers, and Kings; officers who had led American Soldiers in combat, often more than once; one of the most photographed uniformed military leaders of their era; might be somewhat impressed with themselves. Bill Williamson was instead impressed with whomever he was talking. He was anything but stuffy, unapproachable, or uninteresting.
This guy was definitely older than most of the other folks in any room, but he was not OLD. As soon as I’d spent a few minutes with him the first time, I was disappointed I’d not met him until then.
This “old” guy had a sense of humor. He could laugh with you and laugh at himself. This dude was vibrant; he was thoughtful, he was interested in helping. He was comfortable in his own skin, not trying to be someone he was not or who would impress you. (In fact, Bill Williamson never really seemed to be concerned at all about whether he impressed anyone but, perhaps, Mrs. Williamson.)
Too bad. He impressed me.
Some people are fine to be around. Being around Bill Williamson was enjoyable; it was something to which I looked forward. I always felt a bit dismayed when we had to part ways.
One of my strongest memories of my encounters with him was that he always seemed only a moment or two away from trying to conceal a mischievous smirk on his face. I can imagine in his younger days that he’d spent some time at attention, being informed by a superior that some stunt he’d pulled was not the kind of funny he thought it was. I can see him being respectful while taking that ass chewing. Then, after he had been dismissed and was walking away, telling himself that the stunt WAS the kind of funny he thought it was and assuring himself it had been worth getting a terse admonition.
Bill Williamson didn’t sweat the small stuff, either. Not long ago I was involved in an email discussion with him about what number RCO he actually was in the Regiment. (This seems to be something of a debate with several former RCOs. You’d think one could just count the pictures on the wall, but that is apparently not sufficiently definitive for a few of us.) In the note, he said that he preferred to be number 66. …unless one of the other former RCOs was there and then we should refer to him as number 64. He certainly didn’t want to be number 63, he said, as that would indicate he was even older.
The last time I saw Bill Williamson was at The Old Guard Association’s Silver Anniversary Muster this past September. He came up to me at breakfast on Saturday and expressed his sorrow that he’d have to miss the banquet that evening. Something had “come up” and he needed to take care of it back home. I didn’t know what had come up, but his demeanor indicated to me it was not all that big a deal, but it was something that he felt required his attention.
I was disappointed. We’d worked him into one of the banquet events. Not just that, but I selfishly had hoped to spend some more time with him. (I may have mentioned, this dude was vibrant; he was thoughtful, he was interested in helping.) Too bad he had to leave.
He later, almost matter-of-factly sent a few of us a note saying why he’d had to be absent. It was no big deal from his perspective. When I read it, I was aghast. If he’d even hinted at what had caused his absence, I’d have called 911 when I first learned. In fact, I was a bit annoyed with him that he’d waited hours before telling me about it over breakfast.
That incident, the last time I’d ever see the man, made me realize one other thing about Bill Williamson. He was not about any drama, particularly about himself. This guy knew that all of us were in different orbits in our lives. …and he enjoyed periodically sharing orbits with us and was absolutely content not trying to get any of us to orbit around him.
In retrospect, maybe that’s what I should have thought about as I looked at all those pictures on the wall. Which of the guys on that wall was inherently focused outward and was content to simply be with us as we wandered through life? Bill Williamson’s picture didn’t hint at that, but being around him made it crystal clear.
On Sunday, 3 December 2023, several of his friends and family celebrated the life of Bill Williamson, a retired Colonel of Infantry of the US Army, Regimental Commanding Officer number 64 (or 66…or 63…) of 3d Infantry Regiment (The Old Guard), combat infantryman, grandfather, father, husband, friend, world traveler, and mentor. I wish I’d been there. I found out that he’d passed away a few hours after the celebration had concluded.
Bill had died on 9 November 2023. Unlike most of the other things about Bill Williamson, that’s not all that remarkable. All of us die. What set Bill Williamson apart—what made him unique; what made encountering him so prized—was not that he died, but that he lived.
I feel so fortunate to have lived a bit with him, to occasionally have had our orbits coincide. I hope as he looks down on us now—undoubtedly with a slight smirk on his face—he knows that his impact on those that he met lives on. We should all hope to live as Bill Williamson did.
Rest well, Sir.
Thank you so much for your kind words – you really captured so much him. He really cherished his time at the Old Guard as one of the great services of his career.
Truly impressive writing. This is a great snapshot of one of the many facets of who he was and just how he impacted so many people, in so many positive ways. Some will say, “they don’t make men like Bill Williamson anymore” Reality is, they never made many of that high quality! I will simply repeat what many have said so well recently: “The Colonel was truly one of a kind!” and I m grateful to have known him. He will be deeply missed by many!