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It has been over twenty years since <em>Peter M. Connor</em> graduated from West Point and over nineteen since his death in Vietnam. This article was written for the first time in 1970 with the intention of a timely tribute, but the first draft has rested fitfully in a 1968 <em>HOWITZER</em> for almost two decades. The time has come, however, to suck it in and tackle a most difficult task.</p>
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On 4 November 1969, I was sitting in my most recently burrowed hole in the Republic of Vietnam, when a secure message instructed me to proceed to Cam Ranh Bay to escort the body of a lieutenant, 1/12 Cavalry, killed in action. They didn’t have to tell me who. I remember running, crying, from that hole, but not much else until I was in Brigadier General Connor’s Fort Belvoir quarters. That whole period, including the ceremonies at West Point, is a painful blur.</p>
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Pete frequently told Bruce and me about his life prior to West Point. We heard more from his sister, Lizz, who loved to tell Pete Connor stories; his mother, and sweetheart, Kathy, who wore his class miniature, but had agreed to wait for just one war, prior to marriage. Pete was, for his longtime roommates, the epitome of the Army brat. Although younger than we, he seemed much more mature and aware, and I remember thinking that the much traveled Army life must be the perfect way to raise a kid, ready for the world. He was so very bright and quick witted that arguments on equal footing were out of the question, a natural for debate, organized and otherwise. I always regretted not having gone to one of his debate team performances, but imagine him to have been unconquerable. I remember his talking of going to high school in Cincinnati at St. Xavier High and later to Leavenworth High School in Kansas. There were periods in Turkey, Canada, Georgia, California, but Cincinnati was always “home.”</p>
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His was an Army family. Many years of unaccompanied tours with young children are not without consequence. I saw a remarkable family closeness. He was the oldest of three brothers and two sisters. Like most people, his mother, Em, exerted a strong influence on her eldest son, but theirs was an especially strong bond. Her relationship with Pete is described by Kathy as unusually intense, with a mutual respect, and with great arguments stemming from personalities so very much alike. Bruce and I were also a little proud when Pete shared his dad’s letters from Vietnam. Brigadier General Connor, then assistant division commander, 4th Infantry Division, brought the war very close to us. Pete’s pride was obvious. For us, “Combat Infantryman” were magic words. Brigadier General Connor was not just another Infantry officer and we all knew it. He had a great influence on Pete—and us. When the time came for branch selection, all options were open to Pete (he was a hive). There was no question—Infantry. When first assignments were selected, there was no question—Vietnam. Pete and I served together through Infantry Basic, as Ranger buddies, Airborne School, and a six-month stateside assignment at Fort Campbell. We PCS’d to Vietnam almost on the same day. Pete had become a brother, and it’s not easy to lose a brother. I remember Pete saying that his father had lost a brother in World War II. Don’t ever let anyone say military families don’t pay more than their fair share.</p>
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I’m lucky enough to go back to West Point once a year and have had many reflective periods at Pete’s resting place. It’s logical that the memories are most vivid there. I can see him so clearly. Kathy made the observation in her very helpful and thoughtful remarks about this painful article, that we all see Pete as a perpetual twenty-one year old. As we grow old, he doesn’t. If I try to envision Pete bumbling through our life’s failures, like the rest of us over the last twenty years, it doesn’t fit. He was squared away. He was better prepared for USMA than anyone I know and better prepared for life when we graduated. Charlie Beckwith sent the Connors a letter after Pete’s death. He said that he always imagined following Pete up the ladder and saw stars at the end for Pete. My paraphrase, but more than one of us could have voiced the same sentiment. Bruce knew him as well as I. Perhaps better, since he always had more insight. He wrote, for this article: “Pete had the stronger, more rigid personality. While Dick and I were laissez-faire about life, Pete was set in his ways, with committed goals. It was harder for him to sacrifice for friendship, but in retrospect, did the most to keep it together. He was intelligent, dedicated, loyal, and incredibly funny. A friend for life that did not deserve such a short life.” Jack Miller wrote, “I don’t believe there was anyone who knew him that was not influenced by him. For the life he lived and the service he rendered, we all echo that familiar verse—Well done, be thou at peace.” Kathy asked Brigadier General Connor to have the verse placed on Pete’s stone at the cemetery; it is there.</p>
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The Class of 1968 has many memories of Pete Connor. Those of us who knew him well suffer the most from his loss, even after so many years. It has been a difficult task to put his final tribute into words, but at the same time, Pete’s family should know what he meant to us and of his influence upon friends and classmates. Also, it’s time that Pete knew.</p>
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<em>Roommates</em></p>