Phillip Milton Sleet

West Point, 1964

Be Thou At Peace

Posted by Peter D'Alessandro on July 8, 2009:

Skeet and I became buds at jump school in Benning. There I quickly became aware of his extraordinary gift and inexhaustible penchant for making friends. I particularly recall the Coulter family in Columbus who had us over for so many meals. There is absolutely no truth to the statement that you can only eat so much southern fried chicken. Shortly thereafter we were Ranger buddies until he messed up a bone in his foot. From there we went to Ft Carson where we were billeted in the luxurious Carson Arms, a pre-WWII dump of a building that provided plenty of fodder for later bar room stories. This place was so drafty that after each blizzard, of which there were many, our bedroom floor would be covered with an inch of snow. The toilet was frequently frozen as well and we often had to migrate to the O-club across the street in robe and slippers to perform the essentials. Skeet was always the go-to guy for assistance on anything. So far as I know he single-handedly crafted the French pony (translation) for some war novel that had been assigned us during Cow or Firsty year. That was a tremendous amount of work. When my car was in the shop (quite frequently for fender-benders rather than for maintenance) he never hesitated to pitch me the keys to his boat-sized Bonneville with an friendly admonishment to please avoid use of the A/C. And when one of our mates called up from Cheyenne Mountain at 3 AM on Sunday morning in the middle of winter because his car had slid off the road, he quickly marshaled a squad-sized unit of us to get out of our warm beds, drive up the mountain (slide would have been a better word) and resolve the issue. We were only too happy to help when the same thing happened to him a short while later. While in the service our paths crossed a couple more times and I have to say our reunions were more like those of family rather than close acquaintances. I did have the distinct pleasure of meeting his marvelous mother on one occasion during my sole visit to Alexandria. It very much was like coming home. He visited us a number of times while we lived in Houston and again, it was as if a brother were passing through. And of course we did enjoy quite a few capers together in New Orleans. Much on that should be left unsaid. I'm particularly happy we were able to host him for a visit to Rio de Janeiro for Carnaval. I still have movies of all of us dressed up in regalia the night we all participated in the parade (I'll have to get those to Dagmar soon). Here again, he lived up to his well-deserved rep for networking. He brought along a couple he'd met on the plane and we all hung out together for the better part of a week. We still hear from those people occasionally. I didn't want to believe the news of his death. It simply didn't calculate. It wasn't supposed to happen so soon and so sudden. It was tragic and his absence is a major deprivation. I admired him greatly for his easy manner, his ability to see the best in people and the complete absence of ire and guile in his makeup. Skeet was a good person and I'd like my sons to be just like him. I miss you, buddy.

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