Posted by Shane M. Deverill on November 12, 2019:

Arthur Pomeroy Deverill (30 Sep 1927- 27 July 2019) What a glorious day it is to celebrate my father's life. Thank you all for being here. When I think of my father, I am reminded of a Don Stivers Civil War print. The print captures the 2nd Dragoons on horseback weathering the extreme temps and blowing snow near the Grand Tetons Never a Complaint. Never a complaint also was the embodiment of my father's character as he tackled life's challenges. A child of the depression, he chose to be upbeat and forever grateful. He sought, and found, the goodness in others. He thrived on, & derived energy from, his relationships. Even in his diminished capacity, he was undaunted and made every effort to get out and about: on dates with Dee Johnson, to play bridge, go to our family beach week, attend band concerts, enjoy AA1/2 priced burger night, go to his beloved '52 outings, volunteer at the Fairfax Sports & Recreation Center and attend church. Art Deverill, or as some knew him, Big Pom, was a good and kind man who lived a full and rewarding life. He served 33 years in uniform and worked full-time until he was 81. A Soldier, husband, father, and friend, he loved people. It was an admirable trait, as he would do extraordinary deeds for complete strangers at some of the most inopportune times! My father's early life was busy enough to consume a couple lives by the time he graduated from West Point! He graduated from high school in 1945 and endeavored to build upon his glory days, of being a star player and team captain of his undefeated HS football team, at Villanova. With WWII over, many returning veterans went to college and my father's dreams of being a star football player at Villanova were quickly dashed. Humbled by the experience, he lowered his sights and transferred to Union College where he realized it was time to find a greater purpose in life so he enlisted in the Army and soon found himself stationed in the Philippines. While in the Philippines, his commanding officer encouraged him to apply to the newly established USMA Prep School at Stewart Field, NY. He was accepted and entered USMA in 1948. While at West Point, he played B squad football under the direction of the assistant coach Vince Lombardi. He graduated from USMA in 1952 just shy of his 25th birthday! His classmate friendships were dear to him and they endured throughout his life with several classmates and their spouses here today. My father, a natural athlete, loved to play sports as being part of a team defined him. He excelled at football, basketball, and handball. He would attempt any sport for the challenge of the sport. If he was not playing sports, he was often refereeing them. I believe his love for my mother and his athleticism contributed greatly to his longevity and happiness. My parents grew up in Tarrytown, NY. Although they knew one another growing up, they did not date until Valentine's Day of my dad's senior year at West Point. It was a world-wind courtship as they married in July of the same year. My parents' love was strong and endured the test of time and life's challenges. They made a handsome couple and raised five children. Tragically, they endured the ultimate parental heartbreak when they lost their oldest daughter Deirdre, age 3, at Ft Campbell. Now with just my brother, Dirk, they would have three more children. My father was a compassionate man. When his father-in-law died, he unhesitatingly made his mother-in-law his dependent as it was the right thing to do. My grandmother lived with us for 17 years until her death in 1976. My father was an enormously generous man as well. If you commented that you liked a possession of his, he would almost reflexively reply: "you like it--take it." Although there were limits to his generosity, as he did not respond to a kind comment about his BMWs. He only offered his BMWs after they fell into disrepair! In all, dad served 33 years in the Army as both an enlisted Soldier and an officer. He was an airborne artilleryman starting his career at Ft Campbell. He served in both the 11th and the 101st Airborne Divs. Spurred by Russia's successful launch of Sputnik in 1957, he pursued his master's degree in Nuclear Engineering from UVA. He later served in the Pentagon (60-63), Germany (64-67), Vietnam from 1967 to 1969 where he was both an advisor to the Montagnards and the 2-11th FA BN CDR in the 101st at Hamburger Hill. His combat crucible forged friendships which endured the rest of his life with some present today. Following Vietnam, he posted to West Point where he taught physics for four years. It was a wonderful time for our family as West Point was paradise for us and we sponsored cadets whose friendships continue today. My brother was so moved by the experience that he chose to attend the Naval Academy- BEAT NAVY! Fortunately, after West Point my dad posted to Ft Bliss (73-77), where I found Libby Hayden ( A fellow Army Brat) the love of my life in high school. It's funny how Army assignments have great outcomes! In 1977, my dad returned to Washington to work at the Defense Nuclear Agency until his retirement in 1982. After his military retirement, he became a defense contractor working for Logicon and Aires until he was 81. We would often joke that he was the man who will never retire a play on the Irish folk song the man who will never return! Those of you who knew my father well would agree that attention to detail was not a strong suit which was frightening when considering he was a nuclear physicist! So I'll share some humorous tales. When recounting these tales with family, we would often conclude almost in unison, "Big Pom strikes again" and with dad it was again & again! One of the more humorous tales occurred when I was with my dad on a canoe trip with the West Point Explorer Scouts. My father organized a canoe trip to the Catskill Mountains in early spring. He secured several handmade fiberglass canoes from the Boy Scouts. There were probably six canoes in all and each crew had a varying degree of canoeing proficiency mostly none! Given the high velocity and frigid temperature of the water only a skilled Olympic athlete could have tamed the rapids which we experienced that day. And you guessed it, all the canoes capsized with several ramming into one another. The only things missing to make this Deliverance-like adventure complete were banjo music and a couple dudes with shotguns on the shoreline with bad intentions and green teeth! Fortunately, no one was injured or experienced life-threatening hypothermia, but the canoes did not survive the rapids unscathed. Splintered wood, shredded fiberglass and wounded pride became the enduring tangibles of our experience. Too bad we didn't have social media back then as the Youtube hits would continue today! Unfazed, my father spend countless weekends repairing the canoes at the craft shop. Big Pom strikes again! Another fun adventure occurred when he was pulling the family travel trailer into the RV lot on Ft Bliss. My dad did not have the extended side-view mirrors mounted on the car because he had loaned them to a neighbor so he could not see down the sides of the trailer. As he turned into the RV lot and passed the gate, we felt the trailer shake and shutter and the car struggled to move. After we cleared the gate, the shaking stopped and the car resumed normal movement. It was not until I got out of the car to guide my dad into his parking spot when I realized the shaking was the side of the trailer being peeled open by the heavy metal fence post at the entrance to the RV lot windows were shattered and the aluminum siding opened up like a sardine can! Shocked my father exclaimed "how did that happened?" We marched back to the gate and found the broken glass and pieces of the siding. Once again unfazed, my father spent the next several weekends replacing the windows and the siding. Big Pom strikes again! One last funny tale: My parents loved a party especially a bridge or a derby party. It was derby party time and my parents worked feverishly in their yard to make it Masters-like beautiful. My father, ever mindful to find a cheaper way to do something, found that the county had "free mulch." So he had an excessive amount delivered which he piled high in all the flower beds around the house the day before the party. The mulch was free for a reason: it had a slimy consistency resembling black oatmeal and a gag-you-bad stench of a ruptured sewer line. To add insult, my father opened the windows so the entire house was overwhelmed with the outhouse fragrance. My mother was initially furious and then nearly brought to tears at the thought of friends having to endure the insult. Big Pom strikes again! Wait a second, I just realized that two of these funny tales have something in common. I was with my dad could I be the catalyst for these misfortunes? My brother & sisters are nodding yes! I'm so busted! A proud memory: One of my more vivid memories of my father occurred on Memorial Day 1970. It was a glorious sunny day. My dad was decked out in his Army greens to speak to Memorial Day crowd assembled at a war memorial near his hometown (Tarrytown, NY ~ 30 mi south of West Point). As an Army brat much of my life was spent cloistered on military posts so I grew accustom to every adult male being military. As I proudly watched my father deliver his speech, I found it surprising that only a handful of folks were in uniform, and with the Vietnam War raging, the people assembled listened intently to my father. It was then that I realized just how few served our country and fewer still served a career. It was a proud moment for me as I understood my father was special and ever subdued about his accomplishments. He owed much to my mother. She was an invaluable Army wife as she orchestrated the important details of my father's life, and he dutifully executed them! We, kids, joked that my father purposely worked long hours--usually followed by long workouts at the POAC just to escape the demands of my mother's purposeful plans. On the weekends, my father found refuge in the yard where he became a constant gardener. We marveled at how many times he would move azaleas from one side of the yard to the other. He could expand the simplest of projects to consume an entire day again I think his motivation was to escape & evade mom's plans. Don't misunderstand me, my mother was not a shrew but rather an orderly wife; she made sure the important tasks along life's journey were accomplished. After my mother died, Dee Johnson and my sister Courtenay and her husband Keith were invaluable in sustaining my father's quality of life and happiness enabling him to live at home. Our family owes each of you a debt of gratitude that cannot be repaid thank you. In sum, my father was a happy and fulfilled man, who enjoyed people and his life. He gave the best years of his life to a vitally important profession of defending our nation and he did so during some of the most challenging periods for our nation and the Army. Though my father neither solved world hunger nor brought about world peace, his life mattered because he contributed to the betterment of our military and positively influenced many people all while taking care of his family. His excitement and dedication to serve in uniform infected our family as Dirk, Dorian, and I all served and Courtenay and Dorian both married career Army officers. Of his seven grandchildren, four are proudly serving: one Army; two Navy; and one USMC. So a little of dad's love of service rippled through a couple generations of Deverills and his other grandchildren are successful in their professions. Dad thank you for supporting mom's plans for us to travel and experience the world. As my dad would say on many occasions, it was all gooood and indeed it was with Never a Complaint! So let it be said well done! Be thou at peace! Proud of you & honored to be your son! Love you dad. God Bless!

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