<p>
<em>William Arthur Hoos, Jr<strong>.</strong></em> was born and raised in Indiana. He attended East Chicago Washington High School in East Chicago, IN, and played basketball and baseball. He was always willing to talk to anyone about Hoosier hysteria and especially about the highly competitive nature of high school bas­ketball in northwest Indiana. He also was an avid Chicago White Sox fan and somehow always managed to follow the team, even when he served overseas.</p>
<p>
After high school, Bill worked for a short time in a steel mill and attended Valparaiso University in Indiana. He joined the Army and, in 1957, was assigned to the USMA Prep School at Ft. Belvoir, VA.</p>
<p>
Bill entered West Point with the Class of 1962 on 1 Jul 1958. From the outset, it was obvious to all who knew him that he had leadership skills and a maturity that made him a standout amongst his classmates in G-1. To those who didn’t know him well, these traits made Bill seem somewhat serious and unapproachable. His yearbook entry fa­cetiously, but accurately, captured this aspect of Bill’s demeanor. “Daddy took Plebe year seriously. We saw him smile three times. We discovered after Buckner that he wasn’t re­ally grouchy, he was just more mature than the rest of us.” All those who knew him well, however, appreciated his warm, gentle and fun-loving nature.</p>
<p>
Late in Plebe year, Bill and other G-1 plebes had blind dates with a group of nursing students who came to West Point from New Jersey. Bill was matched up with Barbara Jean (Beej) Shank. At the end of the day-long visit, the groups separated with­out any indication that any of the pairings would continue beyond that first date. Bill especially didn’t give any clue that the day had been anything more than an obliga­tion to the classmate who had arranged the visit. It was only midway through Buckner that it became apparent that Bill had been smitten and had been secretly and regularly corresponding with Beej. The mighty Oak had fallen, and no one knew or noticed. From that point on, Bill and Beej were in­separable at all West Point social events and during every leave. New Jersey saw far more of Bill than did his native Indiana during the remainder of his cadet days.</p>
<p>
No one was surprised when Bill became the commander of company G-1 his First Class year. His leadership skills, intelligence and maturity had much earlier made him the de facto leader of the class and the com­pany. Perhaps the only serious criticism of Bill came from his roommates who had to endure multiple playings of Gene Krupa’s 1 1/2 hour solo drum performance on an LP album called “Big Noise from Winnetka.”</p>
<p>
After the tragic death of Steve Pierce mid­way through his First Class year, Bill was se­lected to command the Second Battalion of the First Regiment.</p>
<p>
Bill and Beej were married shortly af­ter graduation. They then both left for Ft. Benning, where Bill attended the Infantry Officer Basic Course as well as Airborne and Ranger training. In March of 1963, Bill and Beej joined many ’62 classmates in the 25th Infantry Division at Schofield Barracks, HI. Bill was assigned to the 1st Battalion (Mechanized), 5th Infantry Regiment.</p>
<p>
The years in Hawaii from 1963 to 1965 were an idyllic time for Bill and Beej. They lived on the beach on the north shore of Oahu, close to many classmates and friends. Two children, Bill and Terri, were born to the couple. The training was hard but rewarding, as the division honed its skills with one eye on the expanding U.S. involvement in Southeast Asia. As part of the Pacific strategic reserve, it became increasingly obvious that the 25th Infantry Division would one day be commit­ted to the struggle in Vietnam.</p>
<p>
Bill’s leadership skills, so evident at West Point, were soon recognized in his battalion. In 1965 he became a company commander. Late that same year, the division was alerted for deployment to Southeast Asia. In January of 1966 the division left Hawaii for Vietnam. Two brigades, including Bill’s battalion, were sent to Cu Chi, near Saigon.</p>
<p>
On 14 Feb 1966, Bill led his company on a dismounted sweep forward of the Cu Chi perimeter on the fringe of the Fil Hoi planta­tion. As the company maneuvered through the brush that included Viet Cong trenches and bunkers, they were under constant, ha­rassing sniper fire. When stopped by some heavy machine gun fire, Bill attempted to place a 90mm recoilless rifle team into po­sition to take out the machine gun, but he and the team were hit by an enemy clay­more mine. As the command group rushed forward to help, a second claymore killed and wounded the Field Artillery forward observer team. He was awarded the Silver Star posthumously.</p>
<p>
Bill’s death and the other casualties were a tragic microcosm of the entire guerrilla war being fought in Vietnam at that time.</p>
<p>
Bill’s death snuffed out what all who knew him would agree would have been a highly successful military career. It also took from all of us a wonderful husband, father and friend. Bill is buried at West Point, the place where he grew so much professionally and personally. It was the place that trans­formed him from that lanky ex-steelworker and enlisted man to the excellent officer he became. West Point was also the place where he met and courted the love of his life.</p>
<p>
Bill is survived by his wife Barbara Jean, his children, Bill and Terri, and three grand­children, Malia, Olivia and Emma.</p>
<p>
The intervening years have not made his loss any easier for those of us who knew him and loved him. We’re left only with happy thoughts of our times together and sad thoughts of things that will never be. So rest peacefully, old buddy. We miss you. We’ll never forget you.</p>
<p>
<em>—His family and G-1 classmates</em></p>