In the  course of our busy lives, we often neglect to honor those classmates who  have left us with fond memories of happy times spent in their presence  and those who have left us with more than just memories. Barry  Strope—loyal son, brother, classmate and friend—leaves us a legacy from  which we can derive strength and inspiration. We can remember him as an  exemplar of tenacity in the face of seemingly insurmountable odds. Were  we to confront our daily problems, which somehow seem so much less  significant, with the memory of Barry’s struggle for his life in mind,  his legacy to us would be complete. Barry’s contribution is one for  which we truly owe him a debt of gratitude. He personified the ideals of  courage and selflessness for which West Point so resolutely stands.

Barry Todd Strope was  born 9 May 1961 in Helena, Montana, the son of Philip and Rosemarie  Strope. He grew up in Helena and attended Capital High School,  graduating in 1979. An honors student, he was intensely active and  earned varsity letters in gymnastics, cross-country, and tennis. His  greatest passion was skiing, and he raced for several years as a member  of the Belmont Ski Team. He was an enthusiastic bicyclist, water-skier  and swimmer. He had a great interest in politics and participated in  numerous youth government activities. His father was a prominent  attorney as well as a brigadier general in the Air National Guard, and  his uncle was the USMA orthodontist. It was not surprising, therefore,  that Barry developed an interest in pursuing an appointment to West  Point and earned a nomination from Senator Paul Hatfield.

Arriving at West Point in the summer of 1979, Barry immediately  disabused us of the notion that Montana’s gifts are limited to  spectacular scenery and unspoiled lands. No matter how arduous the task  or unreasonable the demands of our upperclass tormentors, Barry was  quick to demonstrate the resourcefulness with which he confronted all  challenges. That quality would be put to the test in what would become  the greatest challenge of his life.

Barry’s zest for living found  admirers in his H-4 classmates of plebe year and continued when he was  an upperclassman in C-3. Confronted with the increasing demands of cadet  life, Barry thrived in the classroom and on the “fields of friendly  strife.” His concentration was economics, and his academic prowess  combined with remarkable versatility as an athlete to facilitate his  emergence as a paragon of the “whole man” concept. He ambitiously  competed in intercollegiate gymnastics, cycling, and ski racing. His  leadership was quickly recognized and won him the captainship of the ski  team during his second and first class years, and he earned the William  F. Little, III Ski Racing Award for outstanding performance. He  graduated 25 May 1983 and was enroute to flight school with a commission  in field artillery.

During his first class year, Barry revealed  to some of his closest friends that he was suffering severe back pain.  That so few people were aware of this is a testament to his courage. He  complained to no one, despite the discomfort that intensified throughout  the year. As graduation drew near, Barry could hardly attend classes,  and concentrating on academics became exceedingly difficult. He sought  medical treatment, but it was not until a week after graduation that he  was diagnosed with a rare brain and spinal cancer.

Barry spent  the next year as a patient at Walter Reed Army Medical Center in  Washington, DC. During that year, the courage Barry displayed was  remarkable. The summer of 1983 found the rest of us celebrating  graduation, marrying and reporting to our basic courses. As we began our  careers in the profession of arms, Barry’s battle was already joined.  It was as if he had finally identified his enemy—the cause of his pain  the previous year—and could now set out to destroy it. His weapons were  his sheer strength of will and drugs whose side effects often would  leave him incapacitated. He underwent months of exhaustive treatment,  and it appeared he had defeated the cancer. Incredibly, within two years  he was skiing again.

Interrupted though it was by periods of  medical treatment and convalescence, Barry’s military career was  characterized by the same level of performance with which he concluded  his cadet career. Re-branched engineer, he served with distinction  during assignments with the 11th Engineers at Fort Belvoir, Virginia and  on an experimental project at Fort Hunter-Liggett, California. He was  promoted to first lieutenant on 25 November 1984 and to captain on 1 May  1987. Optimistically, Barry anticipated a subsequent assignment in  Germany.

Early in 1989, Barry experienced a recurrence of his  cancer. He was treated again at Walter Reed and eventually placed on  temporary medical retirement. He spent most of the next year, the  remainder of his life, at his family’s home in Helena, Montana and at  Flathead Lake. Sadly, the cancer inside him was too much for the  chemotherapy and even for Barry’s own strength and willpower. He died  early the morning of lOFebruary 1990 at the age of 28. He is survived by  his mother, three sisters, a grandmother, and many friends who remember  him fondly.

We are often reminded in the military profession  that death can be quick and unexpected. With Barry, we witnessed how  slow and tortuous that process can be. We can never begin to understand  the pain he endured. Instead, he treated us to smiling enthusiasm,  confidence and optimism. Knowing Barry as we did, we do not  underestimate the degree to which he fought on against a relentless  enemy. This enemy, however, eventually weakened him beyond his power to  rally. We are left to wonder if we could persevere to an equal extent in  the face of such adversity. In a less extraordinary context, Barry’s  death inspires us to confront life’s everyday challenges as tenaciously  as he confronted similar challenges and, ultimately, the challenge of  his life. That, we are certain, is Barry’s gift to us.

Barry,  your legacy of courage lives on with your grateful classmates and loving  family and friends. May you always know that, in a very special way,  the end of your life signals the beginning our ours.

Our love, respect, and admiration remain with you into eternity. Rest peacefully, our friend.