Call in the Napalm, Mr. Spring!

Bridge on the Nile in Cairo, Egypt - photo by JoAnn Sturman

Scott Sturman

Among my fourth class classmates at the Air Force Academy, Cadet Kirby Spring was truly exceptional. While the rest of us minions could do no right for an entire year, this frail, nondescript cadet with ashen skin hovered above the fray. The difference lay on his uniform which was adorned with more medals than a Russian Field Marshall. The ribbons started at this belt and ended slightly below the shoulder; Kirby was a bonafide war hero, and we were lucky to have him as a member of our class.

All basic and fourth class cadets were held to rigid standards and nothing was more rigid than the ramrod straight posture required by the upper classes. Yet every once in a while one would get a glimpse of a basic cadet whose decidedly more relaxed appearance did not bother the upperclassmen in the least. War hero we heard, a prior U.S. Army enlisted man who killed a lot of Viet Cong in Vietnam and was wounded in the process. While our tormentors were screaming their lungs out at us, Cadet Kirby Spring was having dinner at officers’ homes.

Basic Cadets wear fatigues, so military decorations are not worn. However, when basic training ended at the end of the summer, fourth class cadets were required to wear the formal service alpha to all evening meals and inspections. Service alpha is made to display decorations, or “fruit salad” in military vernacular. The vast majority of cadets wore only two ribbons: one for marksmanship and the other for having been on active duty while the United States was fighting in Vietnam. Kirby had Silver Stars, Bronze Stars, Purple Hearts, and a lot more. His "fruit salad" put most combat soldiers to shame.

War heroes come in all sizes and shapes; there’s not a correlation between physique and bravery. I remember remarking to my friend, Steve Oberst, “Just looking at Spring you’d never know he could cut your heart out in a second.”

“Those are the ones you got to worry about, W.R. Look at him wrong and you’re a dead man.”

Rumors abounded about Spring’s exploits. With his platoon pinned down he charged an NVA machine gun nest single handedly with only a bayonet between his teeth and a pistol in hand. He slaughtered all of the enemy and saved his unit. How could such a meek looking man reek so much havoc? His testosterone level must be off the charts, too high to measure.

When fourth class year came to an end we morphed into third classmen and were treated to a trip around the country to visit five air force bases on the ZI Field Trip. One of the stops was Cannon Air Force Base, New Mexico, home of tactical fighters which strafed and dropped bombs and napalm in preparation for combat in Southeast Asia.

One morning all four or five hundred of us were brought to an observation area to witness what air power could do to a variety of targets on the ground. The Wing Commander, a battle hardened fighter pilot, spoke to us over the public address and prepared us for the fireworks. As the show was about to begin, he announced, “Gentleman, one of you has looked at death in eye and not blinked. It’s usually my duty to call in the fighter strikes, but in this case it is only fitting that your classmate, Cadet Third Class Kirby Spring do the honors!” Bedlam erupted, as we screamed Kirby’s name and clapped until our hands were sore. The guy was barely twenty but already a legend in the Air Force.

And then later that year, we were shocked to hear that Kirby Spring was leaving the Academy and not by choice. Apparently, some of Kirby’s stories did not jibe with some of the army officers who had served in the same areas of Vietnam. As one thing led to another, investigators uncovered the real story of Kirby Spring. Far from being the nemesis of the Viet Cong, he had been a lowly personnel clerk serving at a U.S. Army base in Germany. Being a bright fellow, he invented a new persona and with access to all his military records was able document an illustrious but fictitious career. It opened all sorts of doors: entrance to the Air Force Academy, wining and dining with the Air Force’s elite, and dating their daughters, but it closed some doors as well. The last we heard Kirby was spending most of his life in Leavenworth Penitentiary, and as far as I know he is still there.