Joseph S. Tate, Jr. came bouncing into this world in Marfa, Texas while his father, J.S. Tate, Sr., USMA April ‘17, was busy chasing Pancho Villa around the countryside. He grew up on Army posts Fort Sam Houston, Fort Sill, Fort Myer, West Point, back to Fort Sam, to Kingston, New York.
If ever a man was born and bred to be a soldier, Joe was that man. He loved everything about it—the outdoors, the horses, camping, scouting (he was an Eagle Scout), hunting, all athletics. I can still remember Joe and another Army brat, Bud Sullivan, preparing for their summer maneuvers, in command of their XXX Ethiopian Army in the countryside around Fort Sam Houston in the early 1930’s.
It probably would not have mattered where his father was stationed, Joe would have found West Point, but being transferred there in the late 1920’s clinched the decision! West Point was his cup of tea and he loved every minute the family was stationed there. I feel sure that he knew more people on the post, from B.P.’s and the Hell Cats on up, than any other kid on the post. Here too, he was able to indulge his penchant for collecting Army memorabilia. His room resembled a miniature museum of insignia, bits of uniforms, broken hockey sticks, old polo balls, and medals from all wars and many nations, etc., etc.
Joe’s high school years were spent at Kent School in Connecticut. While there he was an above average student and a most competitive athlete, playing tackle on an undefeated football team and league baseball. Following his graduation in 1936, Joe went to Stanton Preparatory School in Cornwall, New York for a year to prepare for the entrance exams to West Point. He passed them and was able to get an appointment from Texas.
Joe’s roommate and close friend Phil Seneff had this to say about Joe’s cadet days, “…Joey was bred to the place. The fact that his father, J. S. Tate, Sr., April ‘17, was a Tac of great renown a couple of years before Joe came in as a plebe was well known, and it without doubt made his plebe year a little rougher—NOT to bother Joey, because he was completely irrepressible. He had all of the bounce of the lacrosse ball he used to practice with off the wall of his room (possibly he should have been studying?). Joey was unflappable—as unfazed by academics as he was by upperclassmen or any of the other things that bothered lots of cadets. He was a great and constant friend and really enjoyed his four years—particularly football (‘B’ squad, not big enough), lacrosse and hockey—first string goalie in the last two years. He graduated fashionably up from the ‘Goat’ and was headed for an illustrious career which, to the detriment of the armed forces, did not last long enough.”
Another classmate, friend, and fellow member of the 93rd Bomb Group, K.O. Dessert writes of Joe’s days in combat: “The 93rd landed at Alconbury, England on 19 August 1942. First Lt. Joe Tate was a combat crew commander and the squadron operations officer of the 328th Squadron … On 8 October 1942, the 93rd sent out 24 B-24’s to bomb Lille, France auto works. Joe Tate’s ‘Ball O’Fire, Jr.’ crash landed at another station (with two engines shut out, the gas line ripped open and the oxygen lines shot out, having accounted for two enemy fighters on the way back to England). During the following nine months, Joe flew a total of 25 missions from North Africa and from Alconbury. His 26th mission was the first Ploesti low altitude raid, 1 August 1943. Joe Tate was now a major and he led the 328th Squadron in the raid. The 93rd launched 39 planes; only 12 returned 11 to 12 hours later. Joe Tate’s plane landed with corn stalks stuck in his bomb bay doors … the plane unbelievably untouched.” (In a letter written to me at West Point, his only reference to the raid was: “I have recently been cured of buzzing anything forever”). The group returned to England 2 October 1943. Joe, now a lieutenant colonel and still the squadron commander, flew on a bombing raid on Osnabruck, Germany on 22 December 1943. The plane disappeared and no trace has ever been found. He had flown more than his 25 mission requirement but evidently elected to stay on rather than return to the U.S.
In closing, Dessert says, “He was certainly loved and respected by all his squadron members, his peers and his superiors. He was a superior leader— willing and able to do anything.”
Among his decorations were the Silver Star, two Distinguished Flying Crosses, five Air Medals, two Purple Hearts and the French Croix de Guerre with Palm.
Joe Tate’s life was short but he lived it with vigor, with humor, with compassion and with honor—an accomplishment towards which we all should aspire.
Official word has been received that the new hockey rink will be named in honor of Joe Tate and his brother, F.H.S. (Honie) Tate ‘42, a wonderful honor bestowed upon two fine men.
Daniel L. Tate