The Texas Lifeguard

Bright Angel Trail, Grand Canyon - photo by JoAnn Sturman

Scott Sturman

In 1972 Mineral Wells, Texas, the site of the first phase of helicopter pilot training school, did not conjure visions of a choice military assignment. It’s remote, fifty miles west of Fort Worth, near Possum Kingdom Lake, but also home to some the planet’s most pleasant people.

Several months ago I was looking at some old flight school records and found the graduation order of merit. The class consisted of both U.S. Army and Air Force junior officers and four foreign pilots, and with few exceptions the top graduates were all married. There was a good reason for this.

After the day’s flight training some of us single officers went to the base gym, but most invariably ended up at the Officer’s Club eating and drinking with abandon. My roommate Num and I soon met Lt. Dan Summer, a polished and fun loving National Guard officer from Connecticut, who was assigned to our class. Unlike the simple tastes which Num and I cultivated, Dan had been exposed to life’s finer edge and took it upon himself to teach the class to drink scotch. “It’s an acquired taste,” he advised, as we sipped the corrosive liquid. So with these nightly activities, studying and a restful night’s sleep took a backseat to laughter and camaraderie.

Besides the Officer’s Club, the base swimming pool was one of the few diversions in Mineral Wells, and it was here during my first week on the base that I met Royleen. She would later tell me her father wanted a son named Roy, so when Royleen was born, the “leen” simply was added.

Royleen was beautiful and vivacious. I tried to study at poolside, but it was hopeless. Who cared about grades? A passing grade would do just fine. We talked during her breaks, and a few days later I asked her to go on a date. She gave me her address and told me to pick her up at eight.

Mineral Wells is a small town, and I found Royleen’s house which she shared with one of her parents in a ramshackle neighborhood. Considering the way she spoke and carried herself, I thought there must have been some misunderstanding, and I had come to the wrong address.

I walked onto the porch lit by a tiny light bulb surrounded by thousands of insects, and not finding a doorbell, knocked on the door. A few moments later a tall, gorgeous woman answered. She was dressed immaculately with her blood hair permed and makeup meticulously applied to her face.

“Excuse me, madam, there must be mistake, but I’m looking for Royleen, the life guard who works at the base pool.”

A big smile erupted over her face, “I am Royleen, you silly boy.”

I had found a goddess in the most unlikely place, and considering my good fortune, earning a passing grade in flight school might very well be out of reach.