Andrew Marshall “Drew” Hatch hailed from Birmingham, AL, the son of Brigadier General Royal and Nancy Hatch, United States Air Force. He arrived at West Point with athletic good looks and a mischievous twinkle in his eye, ready for adventure. That quality never left him. Drew was destined for the Air Force due to his father’s service.
Drew and I were roommates numerous times during our four years together in Company A-1, full-time occupants of East Barracks which had an excellent window view of all that passed by on Thayer Road below. Drew approached life at West Point with a self confidence that was contagious. Six-foot three and lean, he took on all athletics with ease. A wrestler, outdoorsman and natural athlete, he excelled at West Point’s physically challenges.
Restrictions didn’t seem to be barriers for him, merely challenges to be conquered. He’d find a way to enjoy life no matter what the circumstances. Knowing he was destined for the Air Force, he didn’t allow academics to interfere with having fun. He exuded the adventurous qualities of a natural leader. He had that “it” quality, the type that caused his close associates to not only value his friendship but to trust that he’d be there for them when facing a daunting task.
Of course, where there were hi-jinx, there would be Drew. He wasn’t just a kid from Alabama: He had travelled broadly with his military family. From knowing Pricilla Beaulieu (the future Mrs. Elvis Presley) in school in Germany to playing golf with a college football star Joe Namath, Drew had tales of his times in both Europe and the South. His experience and his independent personality greatly influenced his classmates.
Shortly before our tactical officer vowed to split up our room forever, Barry Kerr, our other roommate and captain of the Swim Team, announced he wasn’t going to order a class ring. Drew was impressed but settled on a path to honor both his roommate and tradition. He chose to use the swirly plastic end of his tooth brush in place of a ring stone.
By First Class year Drew recognized we had survived the hard part of cadet life. He returned from summer leave in a 1967 black Austin Healy 3000. Following his lead, I soon returned from a weekend pass to Long Island with its twin, a cream-colored 1967 Austin Healy 3000. Drew’s charm and mischievously persuasive skills resulted in parking for these unauthorized vehicles in a Highland Falls garage when we were hard pressed for a storage place. As often as possible, those twin cars could be seen squealing around curves throughout the Hudson Valley. Other weekends found Drew out at the West Point stables riding or bow hunting in West Point’s back woods. This was the world of Cadet Andrew Hatch, West Point rigors notwithstanding. To top it off, Becky Buckley, his girlfriend of long standing, had moved to Newburgh, NY to be closer to Drew. She made firstie year extra special and, upon graduation, became his loving wife and mother of daughter Melissa and son Andrew Jr.
I next encountered Drew in the early 1970s. I had returned from Vietnam to the Army JAG’s excess leave law school program in Sacramento, CA and Drew to the F-4 Phantom Navigator School at nearby Mather AFB. He was training to be a navigator as his eyesight disqualified him for pilot duty. As long as it was fast and lethal, he didn’t mind the back seat. His flying tours included air cover for the evacuation of Saigon in 1975.
We picked up where we had left off. By now we were both married, and Drew was accompanied by Becky and their toddler, Melissa. We enjoyed duck and goose hunting in the Northern California flyways and outings together in the mountains around Lake Tahoe. I found Drew to be the same casual guy I knew as a cadet. We gave him one of our black lab puppies. We laughed and enjoyed being young, married and full of life. Then abruptly we parted again, Drew to Clark AB, Philippines, and me to the JAG school.
More than 40 years passed. Drew didn’t attend reunions or West Point events. I was living in Alaska and decided to reach out, finally connecting by cell phone. It was as if time stood still. I had caught him not at his Florida home but staying in a tent in Eastern Washington state with his plane and lovely companion of the preceding 10 years, Gary Anne Brooks. They were house-hunting for a second home in what Drew described as “God’s Country,” a fishing and hunting paradise. Over the next year we corresponded, traded photographs and relived old stories. Gary Anne’s laughter filed the telephonic background of our humorous tales and reminiscing. We promised to visit soon, since we were now only “one state” away.
I regret that we never had another get-together as planned. Gary Anne informed me that after what was anticipated to be routine back surgery, Drew collapsed from a heart attack and slipped away.
Drew Hatch was light-hearted, contemplative, and spiritual. Devoted to his mother he cared for her until her death in 2015. He took service to his community and country seriously and never lost his quiet commitment to live by West Point’s motto: Duty, Honor, Country.
Drew had an active and independent life. He was one of the really good guys. Many of our mutual roommates have preceded Drew in death and are not available to expound on his life. However, we all loved him as a brother in the Class of 1969.
— Bob Noreen, Class of 1969