Kevin Paul Bons was born 16 Jul 1962 at Ft. Bragg, NC, the second of six children of LT  Paul M. ’58 and Elaine J. Bons. Like many Army brats, he spent his  youth traveling from place to place. Twice his father’s assignments took  Kevin to West Point; the first time as a small boy and later as a  teenager, when his father became permanent faculty. He joined the Long  Gray Line with the Class of ’83 in the summer of ’79, eager for the  challenges and traditions but confidently knowing that West Point was  already his home. Family and friends remember him as a fun-loving,  guitar-playing young man who played Joseph in the musical “Joseph and  His Technicolor Dream Coat” in high school. When he was ten years old  and his father was stationed in Washington state, Kevin bravely rescued  his younger brother after the two became trapped against a cliff as the  tide came into Puget Sound. The incident was chalked up to experience,  though he later became a certified scuba diver in pursuit of a childhood  dream—to become the greatest marine biologist since Jacques Cousteau.  Kevin was active in Boy Scouts, took the Scout Oath seriously and lived  by the Scout Law, earning the rank of Eagle Scout. An outstanding  scholar in high school, he was elected to the National Honor Society and  graduated fourth in his class. His classmates at James I. O’Neill High  School, in Highland Falls, NY, described Kevin as “Smart as a whip and  as straight as an arrow. He was the kind of guy you sat behind or next  to in the tough classes because you could always count on him to help  you out.” He sought and received an appointment to West Point, intent on  following in his father’s footsteps and anxious to serve his country as  an Army Officer. We found his friendship infectious and helpful in easing  the stress of cadet life—particularly during that first and most difficult  year.

Kevin, like many of us at that age, was  full of ambition, dreams and uncertainty. As a plebe, he serve on the  Ring and Crest Committee to put his artistic talents to work designing  our class crest, the first in USMA history to have a lighting bolt, thus  forever making his mark on us as well as on the Academy. Assigned to  Company I-3, he became the company mascot, the Polar Bear of Igloo-3,  and cheered us on at games and rallies with his often wild antics. After  our class shuffled, he found himself in the 4th Regiment, again making  new friends and once again bringing us together as classmates.

Kevin  joined the ghostly assemblage well before graduation and while we were  still at the tail end of the Long Gray Line nearly 30 years ago. Many in  our class already had embarked on Christmas Leave when Kevin left us.  He was serving as a missionary for the Church of Jesus Christ of the  Latter-Day Saints, in Suriquina, Bolivia, high in the Andes Mountains.  His mission work introduced him to the Aymaran Indians near Lake  Titicaca, and he helped build homes and spread the word of Christ among  the primitive mountain peoples. Apparently, Kevin and a fellow  missionary were returning from a compo (a discussion) late at night when  they fell into a water-filled sinkhole in the pitch-black mountains.  Soaking wet at an elevation of 14,000 feet, both were freezing cold as  they made their way back to their room in the chapel. One of them turned  on the stove for warmth but apparently forgot to open a window. At that  altitude, the oxygen in the small room was rapidly depleted by the  stove’s flame and both men were asphyxiated as they slept. Kevin’s buddy  made one last entry in his journal: “We’ve got to remember to bring a  flashlight next time.” Th e announcement of Kevin’s death was made in  Washington Hall, at lunch, early in the second semester of our Cow year.  “Gloom Period” was unusually somber that year as we learned that the  first of our class-mates had joined the ghostly assemblage. We are  comforted knowing Kevin died as he had lived, helping others. He was a  very religious man and always treated others as he wished to be treated,  often providing us with a comforting word when times were tough. Th at  he chose to help his fellow man by spreading God’s word is a testament  to his character and undoubtedly touched many more lives than we will  ever know. His death in that far off  land had an immediate effect on the  native Aymaran Indians, as hundreds of them stood to be baptized shortly  after his death, believing that Kevin’s death was a sign from God.

We  will remember Kevin as one of those rare people who always thought of  others first. It was instinct with Kevin. He didn’t have to think about  helping others. He just did it. He never had a bad word to say, did not  judge others, and never forced his own opinions or views on anyone but  always was willing to share so that others would have the benefit of his  experiences. Although it sounds trite, the world really lost a nice guy  and a great friend on that fateful day.

Kevin  was laid to rest at West Point, his home in death as in life. He is  buried next to Astronaut COL Edward H. White, in view of the Anderson  Fountain and the Old Cadet Chapel. Many of us visited his final resting  place before we graduated, seeking solace before we embarked on our  journeys from West Point. We still continue to “check in” with him when  we can and make progress reports on our lives, knowing that he waits to  greet us when it is our turn to join the ghostly assemblage of the Long  Gray Line.

Well done, Kevin, Be thou at peace.

—COL Will G. Merrill III ’83, classmate and friend