Written by John JC Miller
What cadet didn’t want to become a pilot after graduation? I didn’t.
How that came about makes for a somewhat unusual story. In telling it, I offer a couple of lessons learned from my cadet days and later in Core Values as taught there: Integrity first. Service before self. Excellence in all we do.
Every grad has a unique story to tell of how they chose the Academy and how they then applied the lessons learned, in both their military and civilian life. As I reflect on our recent 50th reunion, my story has been on my mind.
It began with NASA. Space exploration! That was my motivation for attending the Academy. I had no interest in flying. What happened to that NASA dream as a cadet? Two things became apparent to me: one, that the best preparation for NASA would be an astronautical engineering major, and two, that that was beyond my academic prowess.
Instead, I pursued a more moderate academic goal (called graduation!), and chose to focus instead on boxing and skiing (not exactly for career enhancement!).
Excellence
I got out of boxing as a doolie because of being on the gymnastics team. Then being cut from gymnastics as a 3rd classman, guilt overtook me. I signed up for boxing. With just three matches that year, I had a 1-2 record. Must do better, I thought, especially in the macho Academy environment.
My 2nd class year, I followed a hard workout schedule, well beyond what was required, driven in part by lingering impact of some severe hazing my doolie (freshman) year—from my roommates, not from firsties as you might expect. I achieved a 7-0 record including a match against classmate Jesus Salas, a former Wing Open contestant. I briefly considered the Open myself. A lesson from my matches: the core value of excellence–hard work pays off.
Excellence in a Mentor
That same 2nd class year, I enjoyed the benefit of a great role model in our Blackjack Squadron AOC: Major Jack Espenshied. What an officer—as fine an example as I witnessed there. Do your best—but do it cheerfully: That seemed to be his motto. You may now see several plaques on the squadron wall in Vandenburg Hall cadet quarters that honor him in his Vietnam service. In 1969, he tragically was killed in aerial combat. Lt. Col. Bob Daley (deceased) and other members of the class of 1968 set up an award program in Blackjack hallways to honor Espenshied. The award is given each year to the most outstanding graduate from the squadron who best exemplifies the Core Values.
Service Before Self
In my firstie year I was asked to coach boxing for our squadron. It was then, in one match, that I attempted a knockout of an opponent. It made me feel nauseous afterward, reflecting on what I had attempted to do. From that, I learned to engage in the least aggressive or violent option whenever a choice is possible. One of the best life lessons that one could learn: to balance the pursuit of excellence with a pursuit of moderation in unnecessary physical aggression.
Integrity
I owned a hunting knife then. Wanting a leather case for it, I asked the cadet shoe repairman if he could make one. “Sure,” he said. A couple weeks later, he produced a finely crafted case. He then handed me the bill, which, as I signed it, I noticed that it said, “soles and heels.” Apparently, he wasn’t authorized to do personal items like the knife case and was billing me instead as though it was a shoe repair. I felt torn between being obedient to his request to sign, vs. confronting the issue of untruth. Even today, I regret that I didn’t object on the spot. To report the incident later on could, of course, have jeopardized his job. The lesson: as the cliché goes, Honesty is the best policy.
Service before Self
Another event of long-term impact for me: the opportunity to begin T-41 flight training at the Academy, which helped me decide that the full pilot program wasn’t for me—an unusual decision requiring that I explain my choice to a board of three field grade officers. When I explained simply that I did not enjoy flying, one of the officers said, “Mr. Miller, we aren’t in the Air Force for enjoyment. We’re in it to fight wars!” (He himself had not served in any war, so it struck me as hypocritical for him to say that. I wondered, though: Should I choose Air Force flying over my own military career plan?)
My brother Roy (’67, a recent graduate then of pilot training) helped guide me in making my decision, with just a few words of advice: “If I were you, I’d think twice about going for the full pilot training. Flying isn’t like the sales pitch you get around here.” I took in his advice and went on instead to pursue several other AFSC’s (duty codes). One of those AFSC’s proved transformative to me in providing many opportunities to serve. More on that later.
Violation of Core Values
Let me continue by saying this: After graduation from here in 1969, I could not tolerate looking at the Academy as I drove past it several times that summer. (My initial duty assignment post-graduation being the former Lowry AFB in Denver, I had ample opportunities to drive by USAFA.) Such was the residual anger that I felt over circumstances of my firstie year. The issues: my AOC (Air Officer Commanding) allowing misuse of the Honor Code to enforce a regulation, which meant loss of my car one semester.
Then, the day of graduation I attended classmate Gerry Boesche and Nan’s wedding at USAFA. Afterwords, I stopped in the Officer’s Club to enjoy a drink. Wells was there. Because he resented my decision to not attend pilot training, he and another AOC counseled me for awhile—mostly expressing their displeasure. They then stepped away, conferred a bit, and returned, quickly grabbing me, lifting me up, taking off my shoes, taking them to the bar, and filling them with beer.
Although I acted as though it was all in good fun, it wasn’t. In my mind, they violated the Core Values of service—choosing what served their ego needs rather than my career choice—and excellence, by debasing and humiliating me before my peers there. I also felt deeply angry, and powerless to do anything about it, since just hours prior, he had been my AOC.
The lesson: Honor your subordinates’ right to their choices when they don’t negatively impact the mission. Don’t let personal disagreement with them color your treatment of them. Some of that anger lingered long, but I flushed out some of the pain by taking a long, 5,000+ mile solo motorcycle journey to classmate Ron Holder’s wedding in Louisiana and throughout the Southwest.
Service
Two months later, I arrived at my next duty station, Lowry AFB, Denver. I then made a brief but boring foray into Management Engineering (worksite efficiency studies), then the Information Office—a bit more rewarding, with a lot of public contact and some news article writing. Finally, I volunteered for a new duty field in race relations. My final tour of duty, 16+ months of eye-opening service at U-Tapao Thailand during the Vietnam War, enabled me to get what prejudice was; what discrimination was; and the impact of the long struggle by minorities for respect and for their basic rights.
Debilitating effects from my duties there–showing films of civil rights violence, fielding participant stories, refereeing daily arguments—left surprisingly deep psychic wounds, which I sought to heal. It gave rise to a lifelong practice of a coping strategy—meditation—which I began 1974 in Thailand, thanks to my supervisor. Major Paul Anderson, fresh from his duty as Academy academic instructor, suggested that I learn it. Furthermore, meditation was promoted in the Daily Bulletin as a recreational activity and was taught on base! As my father-in-law used to say, What are the odds? Intriguing how life sometimes gives you just what you need where you least expect to receive it!
Upon discharge, however, even the meditation did not fully deal with what felt like a hole in my soul–residual inner demons, clothed in impulses of suicide and violence. I supplemented meditation with something that I intuited a need for—farming. Service. My uncle (near Windom, Minnesota), happy to have me help, welcomed me on his farm for three consecutive seasons—and tensions began rolling off me as I plowed and planted crops, fed his hogs, cleaned their pens, and just enjoyed being outdoors. Uncle Martin wanted to pay me. I said, “No! This has been too therapeutic.” Little did I know then (1974-75) that farming programs would become so popular a staple for returning veterans. Now they’re “cropping up” all over! (Or shall I say, “Sprouting“? “Being cultivated”? “Bearing fruit”? You get my point!–being involved with growth and stillness rather than turmoil and stress.)
Service Yet Again
Desirous also of more “grounding” (hah!) not only in farming but also in the meditation practice, I then chose to affiliate with a yoga institute for nine years, further stabilizing myself while getting married and starting a family (well, sometimes destabilizing myself there a little bit!). Then I chose a career in social work in an outpatient psychiatric facility for the next 12 years,
The volunteer teaching I’d done in Thailand segued after discharge into volunteer tutoring, editing an Audubon newsletter, serving on its board, then Habitat for Humanity, tour guide, some teaching and writing, wrestling alligators (kidding!), etc. The beautiful thing about service is that you benefit just as much as those you serve. Research identifies three returns to the volunteer: improved health, greater happiness, and a longer life. The lesson from service: It often may provide greater fulfillment than one finds in salaried employment. It can give an outlet to one’s passions if salaried employment doesn’t always do so.
Integrity and The Honor Code
This impacted me years after graduation when I called for a formal investigation into alleged sexual misconduct by a senior member of a board on which I served. All other remaining members of the board were denying or covering up the misconduct or else were fearful of consequences were they to speak out. The institution eventually was sued by two victims for nearly $2 million. The jury settled in the victims’ favor. The lesson: Honesty is indeed the best policy. It builds an atmosphere of mutual trust—essential, especially in wartime.
Full Circle
In the middle of those civilian careers, our Academy 25th reunion approached (1994). My brother Roy encouraged me to attend it, saying that he thought it would help me appreciate my USAFA experience. When I balked, he countered with an offer to finance $200 of the air fare! What a guy. I accepted. The rest, as they say, is history. You may read of my quite profound transformation in a Checkpoints article called “Field of Dreams” that I wrote for the magazine’s Winter 1994-95 issue.
Briefly, I’d experienced over many years, as I slept, dozens of dreams prior to that reunion, of return to the Academy as an older cadet. All of them were about “getting it right,” which meant, e.g., being on a casual first-name basis with senior officers there.
My first stop at the reunion was the field house, where my classmate, Col. Gerry Boesche, was serving as assistant athletic director. As I approached him, I said, “Hi Gerry!” He replied, “Hi JC!” It then hit me–my dreams had come true! I was on a first-name basis with a senior officer there—my own classmate!
That reunion experience enabled me in later years to look back at USAFA in appreciation. I followed that by serving in addictions treatment (14 years, mainly in the prison system—more occasional destabilization!) before making a move to Fairfield, Iowa, where all five members of my family have learned the Transcendental Meditation technique at the university campus founded by the teacher of TM to The Beatles: Maharishi Mahesh Yogi. The community there has become our home base since then, with my wife now serving as campus nurse while I coordinate a senior volunteer program in town.
Excellence
More recently I had the opportunity to honor excellence in another veteran, WWII fighter pilot, Jerry Yellin, With a passion for fighting against the enemy, Jerry flew 19 missions against Japan and went on to fly the final mission of WWII, over Tokyo, August 14 1945, in a P-51. He earned the DFC and Air Medal. When Jerry and I met, 2011, he said he wanted to speak at the Academy. Since I had been in touch with (then) Superintendent Mike Gould, I offered to help arrange that, which bore fruit in that Jerry spoke three times at the 2012 NCLS at age 88 and wowed the Cadet Wing.
(Photo below: Jerry Yellin’s aide, Jerry, and myself.)
I again helped facilitate his return in 2017 at age 93. You may see one of his speeches on YouTube by entering his name plus NCLS 2017. Jerry and I shared a deep personal benefit in the practice of TM, which helped us cope with some challenging residuals of our military duty—for him, combat missions, and for me, the “combative” nature of the race relations duty. TM brings awareness of one’s core of stillness, “where the world has never touched you” (said Meister Eckhart); and in so doing, calms ptsd and other stress symptoms, while at times bringing with it a rather profound experience of what I would term joy. I hope that someday it’s offered for Academy cadets as a pre-emptive coping tool for stress of all kinds including combat.
By the way, I called Jerry Dec. 15 2017, when I learned that he was in hospice. As our talk ended, I said, “I wonder what the [death] transition is like.” Jerry replied, I”ll email you.” He passed then Dec. 21. On March 20, I received a mysterious email from Jerry’s address. No subject line, no content. I guess the transition must be beyond words!
Checkpoints Itself
My brother Roy gifted me with a life membership to the AOG on my 60th birthday. Since then, in reading Checkpoints, I’ve found that it gives voice to integrity, service, and excellence, both by graduates and cadets: articles on the Honor Code, the history of flying (e.g., Doolittle’s Raiders); space exploration (e.g. Mars); NCLS; Sully (’73 grad who landed on the Hudson ten years ago); and even the reunion of a former POW with his Vietnamese captors. That requires lots of forgiveness! I really enjoy writing letters to the editor expressing gratitude for those articles and how I could relate to them in some manner.
As I near the end of this, let me tell you about one strong regret as a cadet: not that I wasn’t in the Wing Open; not declining the full pilot training; not losing my car for a semester; surely not that I didn’t go to enough squadron parties. It is this: When I had proven myself capable in the boxing ring as was my wish, that I didn’t immediately devote myself fully to my original dream: preparing to serve at NASA. Lesson: If you have a career dream, work hard to fulfill it. I’ve found myself compensating for that dream by recently reading lots of books by astronauts! Fun.
In conclusion, while attending NCLS 2018, I met Chaplain Col. Greg Tate, who told me of how he counseled a senior cadet with a negative attitude because of two incidents, each involving two other cadets. The gist of Col. Tate’s advice to the cadet: “Don’t let two incidents color your whole Academy experience.” I told him that that was similar to my experience—two main incidents, the one with the two cadets my “doolie” (freshman) year, the other with the two officers at graduation. Those incidents make up small parts of my entire Academy experience! Lessons of integrity, service, and excellence form the basis of it—and are what I leave with you. May your practice of them bring lifelong fulfillment.
