In June, 1974 Harry saved my life. He was not conscious of it at the time; in fact he was barely conscious at all. Here is the story: I was teaching at the Naval Academy at the time and was the officer rep. of the "Sportsman's Club". We made two attempts to climb Mt. McKinley (Denali) in Alaska and this event happened on the second try. We had little leave time so were climbing faster than we should have been. At about 12,000 ft Harry developed cerebral adema and lapsed into semi-consciousness. I sent the rest of my team on, got Harry packed up, and took him down to 10,500 to await the bush pilot. The weather turned bad and we were two days in a tent until a slight clearing alowed the pilot to land. We were ready but Harry wouldn't get on the plane until I took his pocket knife. The weather was closing in again and the pilot was threatening to leave so I took the knife, put in my wind pants pocket and, saying goodbye, started up the mountain. I won't go into all the details but a couple of days later I fell, alone and unroped, into a cravass. I "jammed" myself between the ice walls and stopped falling about 8 ft down. There was nothing but blackness below and my walls opened out just below me into a huge cavern. Again, to shorten the story, about a half hour later I was starting to shake and weaken; my knife, crampons, anything I could use to extricate myself, were inaccessable in my pack (which miraculously had stuck to a little shelf). Contemplating the darkness below I suddenly remembered Harry's knife which was accessible in my pocket. I took it out, cut steps in the ice and am here to tell about it. Harry does not remember any of this.
We were good friends. On my last day of being CO of VMA(AW)-202, Harry flew in from the west coast for the change of command and was with me drinking wine at the O'Club until midnight. There are not many who reach the level of human being that Harry reached. My life, besides being saved by him, was also greatly enriched. I'll see you on the other side, my friend.