The commission, a pair of gold lieutenant's bars and a presidential scroll, came 115 years after Whittaker had been denied them because of charges that were later determined to have been false.
When he was found beaten and slashed in his room, Whittaker was charged with fabricating the assault and ultimately dismissed from the academy.
Whittaker became a lawyer, a high school principal and a professor at what is now South Carolina State University. He never spoke of his ordeal, said 77-year-old Cecil Whittaker Pequette, his oldest living descendant, to "keep his children from bitterness." Whittaker died in 1931.
His story was preserved by a daughter-in-law- and handed down through the women of the family, said Pequette, a former school board member and co-publisher of the weekly Detroit Tribune who relocated to Los Angeles.
Enter John Marszalek, a history professor at Mississippi State University, who came across Whittaker's case some 20 years ago while researching the papers of William T. Sherman, the Army's commanding general in Whittaker's day. His research shredded the charges and led to an HBO movie, Assault at West Point, last year.
Sen. Ernest F. Hollings, D-S.C., took it from there, getting a special resolution through Congress, with the help of penitent Army officials.
Meanwhile, three generations of Whittaker descendants awakened the deferred dream. Two sons were officers during World War I, a grandson flew with the famed Tuskegee Airmen and two great-grandsons, Detroit attorney Ulysses Whittaker Boykin and Dr. John Whittaker Sr., chairman of the surgery department at Detroit Mercy Hospital, also served.
The family, Dr. Whittaker said, was grateful for Monday's ceremony July 25, 1998, because it showed America is "willing to face up to its wrongs." His cousin, Ulysses Boykin, agreed, but had another thought, too. The ceremony was important, he said, because it recalled a "life worth remembering." To show what he meant, Boykin quoted from notes his great-grandfather made on the flyleaf of his Bible during his lonely West Point years.