"Then, as the troops again presented arms, the firing squad fired three volleys, and as the bugler sounded "Taps", the last of the seventeen-gun salute boomed out from across the river. The bodybearers folded the flag, gave it to King's son, and after a few minutes of quiet conversation, the mourners scattered. Nothing could have been at once more simpler and more magnificent, or more appropriate to the man. But to most of the midshipmen at the grave, King- and indeed Nimitz, Halsey, and Hewitt, who were among his pallbearers- must have seemed as distant figures as Dewey, Farragut, or even the sailors of the earliest wars of the Republic. The Class of 1958 is two full generations removed from the Class of 1901, and to a very young man this degree of remoteness borders on that of eternity. So rapidly do great men cease to be people and become instead names, portraits, or statues, curiously familiar, yet personally unknown. The speed of this process has led me to offer this perhaps discursive tribute of affection and respect to a figure of naval history that I had the good fortune, in his last years, to know as a man, rather than as a name."