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Eight years ago, I was standing on the parade grounds at West Point waiting to learn what academic year company I would be assigned when I heard my name followed by Company Delta-1, the Ducks. It was at this moment that I became destined to know a big, charis­matic, and sometimes goofy guy from Delmar, NY, named <em>Timothy Joseph Moshier.</em></p>
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My first memories of Tim are from deliver­ing laundry to the company’s upperclassmen. My strategy for surviving was to find the big­gest guy I could hide behind, in hopes that as we “ran the gauntlet” through the eager upper­classman awaiting their laundry, I could sneak by unnoticed. After a survey of the room, I de­cided Tim was going to be my blocker. As he grabbed his laundry bundle, I grabbed mine and maneuvered in behind him. With the look of confidence and determination in his eyes that he later became known for, he made his run with me hiding close behind. We did well, making it four or five feet before Tim lost his momentum and was stopped in his tracks.</p>
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Little did I know that what ended in an ill-fated attempt to deliver laundry had sparked one of the greatest friendships of my life.</p>
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The first semester of our sophomore year we roomed together. During that semester, we chose our majors. After much deliberation, and many flips of the quarter, I decided upon General Mechanical Engineering. Tim chose the same major, but with an emphasis on aero­space studies. I remember him saying, “Dude, change your major. Come do aerospace, it’ll be fun.” So I changed my major and spent the next two and a half years of college wondering what had possessed me to listen to him, but Tim was the kind of guy you just couldn’t say no to. He could have sold ice to Eskimos!</p>
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Tim was one of the most brilliant people I have ever known. Countless times, I would go to his room looking for help. Without hesi­tation, he would always take time to explain to me where I went wrong and set me on the right path. After college, we enrolled in the Army Aviation Flight School Program at Ft. Rucker, AL, where Tim quickly earned the title, “Sweet Tea King” from the astronomic quantities of sweet tea that he could consume. To this day, I’m sure he holds records in some of Alabama’s finest establishments. Everyday, we took turns driving each other to the flightline in an at­tempt to be economical, but I think we did it because we enjoyed sharing our stories of ac­robatic maneuvers and near-death experiences trying to find that ever elusive helicopter “hover-button”. Tim was a natural; he made it seem effortless. He was always near the top of our flight school class and quickly became known as one of the guys to beat. His wit and humor always provided us with a good laugh, even in frustrating times, making us wonder if there was anything that ever got him down.</p>
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Tim’s ability to think on his feet was a thing of marvel. One day, our class was gathered for an inbrief by the new flight school company commander. Tim and I made a “rookie” mis­take and sat in the front row. By the time we realized our blunder, it was too late and all the other seats were full. As the commander began, he said, “I think we should start off with a joke. Who wants to tell a joke? Where’s the funny guy in your class?” No one raised their hand so he looked at the front row. Tim’s eyes met the commander’s and the commander said, “LT Moshier, stand up and tell us a joke.” Without skipping a beat, with a sly grin on his face and a twinkle in his eye, Tim shot right back, “Well sir, I’m not very funny, but this guy sitting next to me is hilarious!” as he directed his attention towards me. I told a story that received a few courtesy laughs, but I think Tim had the big­gest laugh of that day.</p>
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While at Ft. Rucker, Tim married Katie. They provided a family away from home for me and many others, inviting us for dinners, BBQs, late-night scrabble sessions, and weekend trips to Panama City.</p>
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Several months ago, my unit was stationed at Udairi Army Airfield near the bor­der of Kuwait and Iraq, which happened to be the staging point for aviation units heading north to other operating bases. Tim’s unit ar­rived in-country the last week we were in theater and the two of us were able to catch up on old times.</p>
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He remarked how proud he was of his daughter and wife Katie, and how much he missed them. But I could tell by the confi­dence in his voice that he knew he was over there to make the world a better place for his family. We were able to catch the Army-Navy game, wish each other good luck, and parted ways.</p>
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It is never easy to lose a man and genuine friend like Tim. Freedom isn’t free, and it is men like Tim that remind us of that. With a wife and brand new baby daughter, Tim left to serve his country, without hesitation or ques­tion. He left to help protect our way of life, give hope to Iraqi citizens, and make the world a better place. We are all better people for him having been part of our lives. Tim, we will mourn your passing, but will celebrate your life with each day, knowing that you are in the presence of God. For every time we open the door and step outside to see blue skies, kids playing in the yard amongst the smell of freshly cut grass, or someone firing up a BBQ on a lazy Sunday afternoon, we will know that we are afforded these by the sacrifices and love of a tall, charismatic, and sometimes goofy kid from Delmar, NY, who learned to fly and became a hero to all of us.</p>
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<em>—CPT James Killoran ’02</em></p>