My fondest memory of Jeffrey Allen “Jeff” Romer begins in the second semester of our firstie year but does not end until 12 years later. In the winter of 1978, there was a near-constant pinochle game going on in the Company F-1 dayroom. There was a hard core of good friends who seemed always ready to play pinochle from dinner to “Taps”: me, Howard Lazarus, Jeff Blower, Mike Berendt, Nellie Dodd, and John Hackenberg among them. Jeff occasionally joined us but, more often than not, insisted he had studying to do. And, important to this story, he finished about 20 spots ahead of me in the class Order of Merit.

Fast forward to the winter of 1990. Our class was the first in recent memory not promoted from captain to major in one tranche. Instead, we were promoted over the course of four months. Jeff’s number came up in the first tranche, February 1, 1990. I barely missed the cut that month. At that time, we both were serving with the USMA Department of History. At Jeff’s promotion, after the brass was pinned on him, almost the first thing Jeff told the assemblage was “Fitz, this is why I didn’t play pinochle!!” There were two of us there who got the joke. I nearly laughed till I cried.

This story sums up Jeff: serious, committed to doing his best, but always willing to poke fun at himself and at others, and always, always loyal to his friends and colleagues. 

Jeff came to West Point from Ohio, a Buckeye fan and a lover of Stroh’s Beer. I don’t think he ever gave up on the former; his relationship with the latter ended only when that old Detroit brewery folded. He was committed to the Academy’s values and strove to do his best to take advantage of all the opportunities it presented. And it was there that his love of history flourished, winning the Hottell Award for Excellence in European History

After graduation I lost touch with Jeff, but Bill Hamilton can fill in the blanks. He writes:

In 1982, I was assigned to the 1st Battalion, 68th Armor in Wildflecken, Germany. Soon after I took command of B, 1-68th Armor. About that same time, in 1983, Jeff and Sheri arrived in Wildflecken. Jeff’s company was located just down the hill from mine, and we lived in adjacent stairwell housing. In the 27 months we served together, I found Jeff to be trustworthy, loyal to his calling as an officer, fiercely dedicated to the well-being of his soldiers, and passionate about our profession. Jeff and I sat next to each other in meetings, and I always remember leaning over to speak to one another, getting our story straight on something, so that when we were called on, we always had our stuff together. “Cooperate and Graduate” had a new meaning for us as we navigated the challenges of company command together.

Jeff was more than just a close friend: our lives literally depended on our close relationship. Jeff’s company was next to mine in our GDP, which was in an area in the Fulda Gap that was surrounded on three sides by East Germany. My company was in a defensive position just above the town with Jeff’s company at my flank. We were always working together. There was no truer friend or trustworthy companion on the battlefield. He had my back and I had his. We watched out for and took care of each other!

Our kids, close to the same age, shared birthday parties, and Sheri and my wife, Lisa, became close friends.

At this point Jeff’s and my paths again crossed. In early 1986, the USMA Department of History selected me to return as a military history instructor and assigned me to the University of Michigan to earn a master’s degree. Jeff, Sheri, and their three children had arrived there the year before. Jeff was on the same path as mine. We lived in the same townhome complex, attended the same classes, and our families went to Detroit Tiger baseball games and Cedar Point amusement park together. While at West Point, we continued to be close friends.

After Jeff left USMA, I lost close contact, but Bill Hamilton again picks up the story:

We crossed paths again at Fort Hood, TX in the 1990s. Jeff and Sheri made Hood their long-term home. Sheri became the top real estate agent in the area, and Jeff settled in to work for III Corps. Jeff retired at Hood, and Harker Heights became Jeff and Sheri’s forever home. Jeff spent the rest of his life in service to the Army and our soldiers and civilians, working after retirement first as a contractor and then as a Department of the Army civilian at Fort Hood.

On the day of Jeff’s funeral, the church in Harker Heights, TX was packed. I got to sit next to our old battalion commander, Lieutenant General John Sylvester (Retired) and his wife, Becky. Jeff was buried under clear blue Texas skies in the Texas Veterans Cemetery, surrounded by scores of friends and colleagues.

Jeff Romer was calm, steady, and always matter of fact, but he could quickly get excited and passionate if he thought you were wrong or what you were doing was wrong. His love for the Army, its soldiers and the nation never wavered.

Jeff Romer was a good friend, a wonderful husband and father, and a true patriot. He will be missed.

— David Fitzpatrick ’78, with assistance from Bill Hamilton ’78