Don Gruschow

I grew up in upstate NY during the 40s and 50s, enjoying a healthy, carefree country life, working hard at school and on our farm and being active in high school sports and student government. In my junior year, a good friend in the senior class was accepted at the Naval Academy, so, not having the money for college, I wrote to my congressmen, asking to be considered as one of their appointees to an academy. After competitive exams, Sen. Kenneth B. Keating awarded me principle appointments to both the U.S. Military Academy at West Point and the new Air Force Academy in Colorado Springs.  I wanted to fly, but I chose West Point because of its established tradition, and because historically, grads could still go Air Force if their eyesight and grades were good enough. Passing the entrance exams, I was accepted and began my cadet life on 5 July 1955.

I weathered the hazing, discipline and academics of that day, and after a tough Plebe year, enjoyed playing sports and making life-long friends. Army football was big, and in my senior year we had the last undefeated season Army has had with three All-Americans on the team led by my classmate Pete Dawkins. Then as graduation approached, the branch selection rules were changed, due to the first graduating class at Colorado Springs. Air Force allocations were fewer and were dispensed regardless of class standing. My number didn’t come up, and I was assigned Armor branch as a proud member of the Class of ’59, and humble new 2d Lieutenant earning the princely sum of $230.60/month.

.....and on I went to Ft. Rucker, AL for flight school, earning my fixed-wing IFR (Instrument) Rating.

As qualified as I could get, this newly commissioned and raw 2d Lieutenant was assigned to the 3d Armored Cavalry Regiment at Ft. Meade, MD.

Shortly thereafter, in 1961 the 3d Cav was dispatched to Seventh Army in Baumholder, Germany as the wall went up and the Cold War heated up.

Over the next three years I spent thousands of hours flying L-19 Bird Dogs, and L-20 Beavers around Germany landing on everything from pastures to roads to Rhein Main airport in training exercises and patrolling the plowed strip extension of the wall that separated West and East Germany.

The most exciting event in that assignment was watching an East German soldier make a dash for freedom across the plowed strip right below me, causing sizeable forces on both sides to assemble fully armed. Fortunately, the first shot of the Hot War wasn’t fired, and finally the troops dispersed with the soldier having successfully defected with a new enemy half-track vehicle. Unfortunately for him though, in fleeing, he must have been looking back over his shoulder because he drove smack into the only tree within miles at full speed and had to be carried away. The second most exciting events were the incidents when the Air Force radar monitoring the border (Rhine Control) became uncalibrated, and they thought we had violated E. German airspace, they scrambled an F-102 to investigate, and we had to outmaneuver the speeding jet so he couldn’t get our tail number and thereby tie us up in long interservice disciplinary debate. That was easy because their minimum turning radius was many times ours, and they went back to Bitburg AFB with nothing but “another one of those damned Army Bird Dogs”.

By 1964, as the Vietnam conflict heated up, and the Cold war got cooler, our mission priority had sunken so far that we even began to have shortages of fuel for our vehicles and aircraft. That didn’t seem to be the place a young “gung-ho” bachelor Army officer could build his career, so I applied for a transfer to a more “active” assignment, expecting it to be Nam.

Rejected by a Warrant officer at 7th Army due to my unit being short of Captain Aviators, I tried a second time and was rejected by another warrant officer in the Pentagon.  A third try was refused by a General in the Pentagon for the same reason, thereupon making me conclude that a stellar career in the service was not meant to be.  Nine years after enrolling at West Point, I reluctantly resigned my commission, and began civilian life grateful for the education, experience, and friendships my years of service provided.

Not only did the experience enhance my resumé to find a good job at Eastman Kodak, but it also later led to a commercial pilot position at Pan American World Airways where on a flight from Sydney to Honolulu I met Jennie, the lovely English lady who became my wife in 1970.

Pan Am left my life when they went bankrupt in 1976, but 52 years after we became a couple, through many corporate moves, and raising our two children, I’m blessed that Jen is still by my side as loving partner and care giver during our senior years here at Soleil.