<p>
If<em> Bill </em>could supervise the writing of this tribute to him, he would do it with much less verbiage than I, his mother, will. He would simply say that he lived and died doing what he loved—he was a member of the U.S. Army, first as a “Brat” and then as a graduate of West Point. The latter was the culmination of his life’s dream.</p>
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In the fall of 1967, I stood in the middle of his high school football field to accept a plaque honoring him as their first outstanding graduate. This was very hard for me to do so soon after his loss, but I was so proud that I was his mother. At that time, I presented his West Point ring to his high school as an inspiration to present and future students to strive, as he did, to accomplish their goals in life.</p>
<p>
While standing on that field before the hushed crowd listening to my few words, many things flashed across my memory. How, as an Army “Brat” who was a war baby, he became a camp follower at 5 weeks of age and continued so until he left for West Point at age 18. How, in Germany, he mastered the language at age 3; in Alaska, he mastered going to school and coming home in subzero weather and in the dark at age 9; in Panama, he mastered dodging barracuda slipping through the shark nets at age 13; and many other stateside assignments—most often Ft. Bliss in El Paso, TX, where he felt at home.</p>
<p>
He loved to play football, climb mountains, and rummage in caves. His dream came true with his appointment to West Point. I shall long remember my visit with him during Plebe Christmas, as well as the great pride I felt watching him receive his diploma at Michie Stadium 3-1/2 years later. After his airborne training and ranger school, he spent his last Christmas at home. His last words to me as he left for Korea were, “I’ll be home before you know it, Mom.” In 5 months he was home, laid to rest in the Ft. Bliss National Cemetery, just below his beloved Sugar Loaf Mountain. (We later moved him to the West Point Cemetery.) As evidenced by the many letters I have received recount ing numerous good deeds done during his short life, to and for people, many which I never knew, he lived and accomplished more in his short 23 years than many of us do in our longer lifetimes. All these memories of you, my son, will live in the hearts of your family and friends forever—we will always love you and miss you.</p>
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<em>Your mother</em><br />
</p>