The Class of '60 lost one of our most colorful and beloved members when Hardy LeBel died in a midair collision in Westerly, R.I. on Nov. 16, 2003. He was engaged to he married to Libby Evans of New York City on Dec. 27.

On hearing of the accident, one classmate wrote, "Well, that really stinks. Hardy was one of my roommates at the Academy, and about the only positive thing I can think of at this time is that he probably would rather die in an airplane than in any other way. He was about as close to a swashbuckling adventurer as any person I have ever met. I knew him well. He was a warm, kind and generous man. His passing certainly leaves a hole in my heart." It leaves a hole in the hearts of all who knew him.

While he faced tragedy in his life, Hardy had an enormous capacity to grab life and wrestle it to the ground with gusto and relish-just like he treated his opponents when he was on the varsity wrestling team! Many of us never saw Hardy in anything other than a joyful mood directly mirroring his intense love of life, curiosity, and thirst for adventure.

Hardy's adventurous spirit led him naturally to a special place in the Air Forcewhere he no doubt met many kindred souls in Special Operations. After pilot training, he spent time in Air Rescue in Tachikawa; with the Air Commandos in Bien Hoa and Nha Trang; various pilot, instructor and staff positions in Yokota, Japan and PoHam, South Korea; at Eglin and in the USAF Special Operations School at Hurlburt; and finally as Situation Monitor Officer and Executive Assistant to the Deputy Chairman of the NATO Military Committee. Along the way, he earned a Ph.D. in International Relations. His unusual flying activities during those years included participating in hydrogen bomb tests over the South Pacific, collecting air samples over both the North and South Poles and landing in the bush in Central Laos.

His medical retirement from the Air Force in 1973 neither grounded him nor slowedhim down. While his post-retirement ventures included public relations, oil and innkeeping, his love of living and things connected with aviation provided his compass. He eventually settled in Westerly, at various times bought several airplanes and seaplanes, was Chief Pilot for New England Airlines, and generally used that arrangement as a base to launch whole sequences of connected flying activities that interested him, and he was curious and interested in just about every thing.

For example, in 1993 under the flag of a humanitarian program called "Wings of Hope," he flew missions in Central America for the Belize Ministry of Health, again landing in the bush. As an active member of The Explorers Club, an exclusive organization in New York City whose members are inducted strictly on the basis of their accomplishments, he was aware of ongoing archeological research in Mayan maritime trade. He knew this research was practically impossible on land because the one meter rise in sea level since the Mayan era had inundated many of the hypothesized sites of the Mayan trade centers. While flying missions over this area, Hardy concluded that by combining popularly available technology with experience from several scientific disciplines, it would be possible to develop a system for quickly identifying Mayan maritime trading sites from air surveillance using much less expensive equipment than had traditionally been required. This capacity to contribute to several diverse fields simultaneously is further illustrated by the publication by the Explorers Club of a research paper in which Hardy made a very convincing case, based on new evidence, that Adm. Richard F. Byrd's claim that he flew to the North Pole in 1926 was false.

A bigger-than-life, giant of a man with a huge heart, Hardy left behind his son, Hardy Jr.; his fiancée, Libby Evans; his former wife, Joan; one sister; one brother; and a host of friends and admirers in Westerly, Manhattan, and around the world. Each has Hardy stories. Some were told at the funeral services in Westerly, still more at the memorials celebrating Hardy's life held in Manhattan and Washington. I doubt we will ever run out of Hardy stories, or tire telling and re-tellingthem.

(Leon Goodson, Class of '60)