By Dave Smith, grandson*
Relation to Andy and/or Flora Lehr
Yes, that’s the famous line from Top Gun, which came out 40 years ago. For those of you younger cousins who weren’t around yet, or haven’t seen the original, that’s where this story begins.
I graduated from Northwest Missouri State University (NWMSU) in August 1985 with a degree in Geology. At the time, I had plans to find a job in the oil industry or something related to my degree. Unfortunately, my timing couldn’t have been much worse. The oil glut that began in the early 1980s continued through 1986. Oil production and prices had dropped, the industry had slowed to a crawl, and there just wasn’t much happening.
That fall, I managed to find a job at a local coal mine near Knoxville, Iowa, drilling and mapping coal seams for the princely sum of $5 an hour. When the weather got too cold to drill, I may have picked up some part-time work for Dad at Charlie’s Restaurant and possibly the other restaurant that had previously been Lil Duffer. Needless to say, this wasn’t exactly what I had envisioned doing with my college degree.
After months of sending out resumes and hearing little or nothing in return, I decided it was time for a change. I packed up and headed to Denver.
I don’t remember if Andy [brother] invited me to come out or if I simply invited myself, but either way, I showed up and moved into his small apartment. My accommodations were pretty luxurious by my standards at the time: a twin mattress in his closet. I had even managed to “borrow” the mattress from a nearby rest home. I say borrowed because I did eventually return it when I left.
Denver had several major oil companies, so I continued looking for work in my chosen field. Somehow, I got connected with the Colorado state workforce office and was sent to Gulf Oil to do some mapping. The internet may have already been invented, but it wasn’t available to the public yet, so I honestly don’t remember how all these opportunities were being arranged.
When I arrived at Gulf Oil, someone pointed to an unoccupied drafting table and told me I could work there. I sat down and stared at the contour maps in front of me for a while, trying to figure out what I was supposed to do. I probably asked one of the other drafters or mappers for some direction, but they weren’t much help.
After a couple of hours, someone came over and asked, “You have no idea what you’re doing, do you?”
I admitted that I didn’t but explained that if someone would show me what needed to be done, I could probably figure it out.
His response was something along the lines of, “We need someone who knows what they’re doing. You should leave.”
And just like that, my promising career at Gulf Oil came to an end. I think I got paid for the two or three hours I spent sitting there doing absolutely nothing.
My next job was the Foot Locker at the Lakewood Mall in southwest Denver. I sold shoes and apparel and met a coworker named Jim Tuccio, who was also a recent college graduate. Jim had moved from New York and was looking for full-time work. He was Italian, had a classic New York sense of humor, and an entertaining view of the world.
We had a lot of fun joking around while working together and occasionally went out for a drink after work when we could afford it. I think I was bringing home just a little over $100 a week, so our entertainment budget was very limited.
To supplement my income, Chuck Lewis [cousin] hired me part-time as a security guard at the apartment complex he managed. I don’t remember exactly what I was driving at the time, but Chuck sold me a little Nissan pickup. It was a great little truck to have, at least until I wrecked it. But that’s another story for another time.
Then came a morning in late January 1986 that I still remember.
I was arriving at work at the Foot Locker when I noticed the television was on regular TV. The Space Shuttle Challenger disaster had just happened earlier that morning. Like many people, I stopped and watched the coverage as the terrible news unfolded.
Events like that have a way of making you stop and think about life, your future, and the choices you’re making. At that point, I was still trying to figure out what I wanted to do with my life, and I knew that selling shoes probably wasn’t going to be my long-term career.
Later, I transferred to the Foot Locker at the mall in Grand Junction, Colorado. Several of my coworkers were into bodybuilding. Occasionally, a guy they said was a former Denver Broncos football player would show up to give them steroid injections. They would disappear into the back storage room and reappear a few minutes later.
Despite all these adventures, my situation wasn’t improving. I knew I needed to make a change, but I wasn’t quite sure what that change should be.
Then, in May 1986, a movie came along that would change the direction of my life.
Top Gun.
I don’t remember which theater I saw it in the first time, but I do remember going back several more times. There was just something about the movie that grabbed my attention. The aircraft, the pilots, the aircraft carriers, the flying, and the whole Navy fighter pilot lifestyle seemed exciting.
As I watched the movie, I remember thinking to myself, “I can do that!”
I didn’t recognize it at the time, but it set in motion a series of events that would eventually lead me into Army aviation and a career I might never have considered otherwise.
I found the Navy recruiter’s office at the mall, and he referred me to the Navy officer recruiter in Denver. I made several trips to Denver for testing, paperwork, and a physical. During this time, I moved back to Iowa and back into Mom and Dad’s basement and working at the restaurant. Fortunately, the basement had its own separate entrance, bedroom, bathroom, and shower, so it was a good arrangement.
The Navy officer recruiter I was working with was in Omaha, which meant several more trips there. Eventually, on one of my visits, the recruiter, a Lieutenant, told me that I had been accepted into the Navy flight program.
I was excited and I immediately started imagining what life would be like as a Navy fighter pilot. Flying the F-14 Tomcat, taking off and landing on aircraft carriers in the middle of the ocean, and maybe someday making it to Top Gun, officially known as the Navy Fighter Weapons School at NAS Miramar in San Diego.
Of course, there were a few other perks I had in mind. I’d get to wear a flight suit, sport some cool-looking Ray-Ban sunglasses, and get paid well with good benefits. I even figured that after retiring from the Navy following 20 years of service, I could transition into flying commercial jets for one of the airlines.
It all sounded like a pretty good plan.
Then came the catch.
The Lieutenant explained that although I had been accepted, she couldn’t get me a class date for another two or three years. There was a backlog of applicants waiting for flight training, and apparently, a big part of that backlog was thanks to the popularity of Top Gun.
I guess I wasn’t the only one who watched that movie and thought, “I can do that!”
My visions of flying F-14s and landing on aircraft carriers started getting a little blurry. Two or three years was a long time to wait, especially when I was trying to get my life moving in a new direction.
I told her I needed to think about it.
As I walked out of her office, I noticed several other military recruiters waiting in the hallway. Apparently, they had been keeping eyes and ears on the situation.
The Marine recruiter was next to the Navy and was first to make his pitch.
“How does flying the Harrier jump jet sound to you? I can get you in right away.”
That sounded interesting, but I didn’t know much about the Marines, and something told me that probably wasn’t the direction I wanted to go.
Next was the Coast Guard recruiter. He said he could probably get me in, but it might take a year or two.
The Air Force recruiter seemed a little more reserved, maybe even a bit snobbish. His response was basically, “We don’t have any slots. We get our pilots from the Academy.”
Finally, the Army recruiter stepped forward.
“How about flying helicopters? If you qualify, I can get you in by the end of the year.”
Now that got my attention.
Flying helicopters sounded pretty good, and I certainly liked the idea of getting started sooner rather than waiting two or three years. I quickly decided that Army aviation was the way to go.
Of course, there was still a process to get through. I had to put together a flight packet, complete the necessary testing and paperwork, and appear before a board of Army officers. That took a few months, but by the end of 1987, I would be on my way to Fort Jackson, South Carolina, for basic training.
My plans to become a Navy fighter pilot had officially changed course. Instead of flying F-14s off aircraft carriers, I was headed toward flying Army helicopters.
And as it turned out, that wasn’t such a bad alternative.
I did eventually make it to NAS Miramar a few years later, although not quite for the reason I had originally imagined. While I was stationed at Fort Lewis, Washington, in a helicopter Medevac unit, our unit took several helicopters and flew down the West Coast all the way to Miramar, near San Diego. From there, we traveled to Camp Pendleton (Marines), near Oceanside, where we would be based for deck-landing training on Navy ships operating in the area.
We also completed dunker training, which involved learning how to escape from an aircraft fuselage after it had crashed into the water and turned upside down. Not exactly the kind of fun I had imagined when watching Top Gun, but certainly important training for Army aviators landing on Navy ships.
It turned out to be one of the best training trips I was fortunate enough to be part of. And while I never did fly an F-14 or attend the Navy’s Top Gun school, I eventually got to experience some amazing aviation adventures.
There was another important part of my life taking shape during this time.
While I was still in Knoxville, I had met Julie, and we eventually got engaged. We set a wedding date for March, which purposely fell between basic training and flight school. I was hoping the Army would allow me to take two weeks of leave so I could come home, get married, and move Julie down to Fort Rucker, Alabama, where I would be attending flight school.
That was the plan, anyway. I just hoped the Army would cooperate!
When I arrived at Fort Jackson for basic training, I met up with about a dozen other guys from all over the country who were also headed to flight school. We quickly became a close group, got along great, and helped each other make it through basic training.
Before long, we had completed basic and were moving on to the next chapter of our lives at Fort Rucker.
And so, what started with a college degree that wasn’t getting me very far, a few odd jobs, and a movie about Navy fighter pilots had turned into the beginning of an entirely different career.
I couldn’t imagine where it would all lead, but I was about to find out.
The Army approved two weeks of leave so I could go home, marry Julie, and move her to Alabama. They were not particularly excited about accommodating my wedding plans, but we made it work!
After the wedding, we headed back to Fort Rucker, got Julie settled into our new apartment in Enterprise, Alabama, and I reported for flight school. The guys I had gone through basic training with were already in the class ahead of me.
I finished flight school the following summer. It was without a doubt one of the toughest things I had ever done, but it was well worth the effort. I had finally accomplished what I set out to do when I first walked into that Army recruiter’s office. I was now a Warrant Officer and an Army helicopter pilot!
Our first duty station was Fort Hood, Texas. We were off to a new adventure, and before long, I found myself deployed to Operation Desert Storm in 1990.
After almost four years at Fort Hood, I needed to do an overseas “short tour” and was ordered to the Sinai Peninsula in Egypt for a year. I was assigned to the Multinational Force and Observers (MFO), an international peacekeeping organization responsible for monitoring the peace agreement between Egypt and Israel. It was certainly a different experience from anything I had done so far. Julie got to come for a visit and we went on trips to Cairo, Egypt to see the pyramids and rode camels and got up close to the Sphinx, sailed on the Nile river, to Tel Aviv, Israel and to the MFO’s south camp at Sharm el-Sheikh to swim in the Red Sea.
From Egypt, we moved to Fort Lewis, Washington, where we spent another two years in the Pacific Northwest before leaving active duty and returning to Iowa.
By then, our family was growing, and we had some important decisions to make. We moved Julie back to Iowa before I finished my time at Fort Lewis so that Luke could be born in Iowa and close to family. It was important to us to have family nearby as we started raising our own. I joined the Iowa Army National Guard and became what they call a “weekend warrior.” My day job was in IT [Information Technology] with Wells Fargo and then the Knoxville School District.
Anyone who has served in the military and having a family knows that military life can be harder on the family than it is on the service member. The deployments, time away from home, and uncertainty about what comes next all take their toll. The service member may be the one wearing the uniform, but the family serves in its own way.
My time in the Iowa National Guard wasn’t quite over, though. In 2004–2005, I deployed again, this time in support of Operation Iraqi Freedom (OIF). After returning home, I continued flying in the Iowa National Guard.
Iraq Freedom 2005
When it was all said and done, I had served a total of 23 years in the Army, including active duty and the Iowa Army National Guard. I finally retired in 2011.
There were plenty of adventures, challenges, good times, and probably a few things I would rather forget along the way. I’ve made lifelong friends, traveled to places I never imagined visiting, and had opportunities that I never would have experienced had I stayed on the path I originally planned after college.
This story only covers the highlights of my military career. There are many more stories I occasionally tell about the people I served with, the places I went, the helicopters I flew, and the experiences we shared. Some were exciting, some were challenging, and some were downright funny. But I need to wrap this up because I’m past my story deadline and the extension that Roger [cousin] gave me.
Looking back, it’s hard to believe that so much came from a simple decision made while watching a movie in a theater back in 1986.
I never did become a Navy fighter pilot, fly an F-14 Tomcat, or attend Top Gun. But I did become an Army aviator, fly helicopters, serve my country, and build a life and career that I never could have imagined when I was working at Foot Locker.
And I got a pretty good story out of it.
Not bad for a guy who started out with a geology degree, a $5-an-hour coal mine job, and a “borrowed” mattress in Andy’s closet!
