Trail to the top
From about any place in town, Charlie Schmidt can see the hill that brought him to Burns, Oregon.
Fifty years ago, it was the site of an Air Force radar station – and the first assignment for 17-year-old Schmidt, fresh out of basic training.
He arrived after dark, driving a green 1963 Volkswagen Beetle, with only the faintest idea where he was headed. “I’m looking around like, ‘Where are all the bright lights?’” he recalls. “I thought, ‘I’m in the middle of nowhere.’”
Burns is even smaller now, and the Air Force left in 1974. But this area will always be special to Schmidt. Here is where his adult life really began – where he met Linda, the woman he’d marry, and embarked on a 28-year military career that took him around the world.
It’s also where Schmidt became an active and enthusiastic member of The American Legion, helping revitalize Harney County Post 63 and Oregon’s 10th District before taking on the role of department commander. More recently, he served on the National Executive Committee.
Last month, at the 98th National Convention in Cincinnati, Legionnaires elected Schmidt national commander – the first from the Beaver State. And those who know him best say he’s the man to lead the organization.
“Since I’ve been here, Charlie has been a mentor in every position we have,” says Ron Copeland, commander of Post 63 and a friend of Schmidt. “He’s taken everybody under his wing. He gives us direction and is always spot on. I’ve never seen a man work as hard as he has.”
‘MY DAD WANTS TO MEET YOU’ Schmidt grew up in Craig, Mo., the middle of three brothers. His father, Edward, was a farmhand who died young from emphysema. His mother, Martha, worked in a grocery store and later remarried. They didn’t have much, but life in the country was sweet.
“We were always barefoot in the summertime, going down to the creek or playing in the barn,” he says. “When we got bigger, we’d put fishing lines in the water or go hunting.”
Schmidt’s family went to church three times a week, and he was a Boy Scout. In high school, he played football and basketball, and graduated with a class of 25. Had he not enlisted, he might have become a farmer.
“Keep in mind this was 1965, and a place over in the western Pacific was heating up,” Schmidt says. “I was going to go to college, and I had enough money to probably get through the first semester. But I said, ‘What happens after that?’ I knew my mother couldn’t help me financially.”
Deciding he’d rather go to Vietnam somewhat on his own terms than be drafted, Schmidt followed in the footsteps of his older brother, Alfred, and joined the Air Force. And he did go to Vietnam, but not before his 18-month stint in Burns with the 634th Radar Squadron.
The unit worked up on a hill, and in their off hours airmen headed into town to find something to do. That’s where Schmidt met Linda Presley during a dance at the armory. “I asked her out a couple of days later, and she said, ‘My dad wants to meet you,’” Schmidt says, laughing. “Her mother said, ‘You’re going out with an Air Force guy?’ They’re here today and gone tomorrow.’”
Eldon Presley owned a gas station, and the pair drove by at his request. “Dad walked over and started staring at him through the window,” Linda says. “Charlie took his sunglasses off, and you know, he has those light blue eyes. After I got home, Dad said, ‘Well, I’m glad you brought him by, but he’s got funny eyes.’
“But after they got to know Charlie, they started telling everybody, ‘How do you like the guy we picked out for our daughter?’ They thought the world of him. He was like another son.”
In the spring of 1967, Schmidt was assigned to Hamilton Air Force Base in California, just outside San Rafael. Linda went to business school in Portland. He proposed, and they married in November – a month before he left for Vietnam.
With his flight delayed by fog, Schmidt couldn’t help but feel anxious about the next 365 days. “I was probably the only one awake on that bus,” he says. “You begin to think, ‘What’s this going to be like?’ It kind of scared me.”
He ended up at Tan Son Nhut Air Base, outside Saigon. As chief clerk of the 619th Tactical Control Squadron, Schmidt processed performance reports, award recommendations, R&R trips and the like, occasionally traveling to detachments throughout the country. But he never forgot he was at war.
During Tet, the enemy’s rockets hit close to the base’s motor pool and Schmidt’s barracks, and a fellow he knew was killed in a firefight. Another time, he helped unload a truck full of body bags.
“These were dead Americans,” he says. “That was hard to comprehend.”
Following his tour, Schmidt spent a few months at Malmstrom Air Force Base in Great Falls, Mont., followed by 10 years at Offutt Air Force Base in Omaha, Neb. While there, he and Linda had two daughters. Andria, the oldest, is married to Peter, an Air Force veteran; they live in San Antonio with two sons and a daughter. Cori and her husband, Tony, are also Air Force veterans and live at Robins Air Force Base in Georgia. They have three sons.
Together they’re a proud Air Force family, though Schmidt says he once flirted with the idea of leaving the service. Their first child was on the way, and he wanted to go back to school. But he liked the security of a military career and figured he’d stick it out a few more years.
In fact, Schmidt decided he’d try to become an officer. He enrolled at the University of Nebraska Omaha and took night classes in Offutt’s bowling alley, in the basement of an old bomber plant. “We called it Bowling Alley U,” he says.
He graduated in 1977, and while attending a noncommissioned officers academy in Louisiana, Schmidt learned he’d been selected for Officer Training School. Once commissioned, he received assignments that took him and his family overseas for a decade: three years in the Philippines, five years in Germany and three years in England. His final station was Lowry Air Force Base in Denver, where he retired as a major in 1993.
“I worked hard and earned everything I got,” he says. “The Air Force was good to me, but I think I was equally good to it.”
‘THE AMERICAN LEGION IS BACK’ For a long time, Schmidt didn’t think much about belonging to the Legion. Back in Craig, Alfred became the commander of Story-Hardin Post 164 and kept after his younger brother to join. But Schmidt said he didn’t see a need. Then he retired.
He tried to get a physical on base and was told it took care of active-duty folks only. Was he enrolled at VA? He might check into that. Suddenly Schmidt realized what Alfred had been trying to tell him for years: transitioning military personnel and veterans have no better friend than the Legion.
In 1997, the Schmidts returned to eastern Oregon so Linda could be close to her parents. He took a job at the Harney County Federal Credit Union and wanted to get involved in the local Legion post. Trouble was, it barely had a heartbeat.
Talk of revitalization began, and a meeting was called. Several interested vets showed up, and the commander of a neighboring district – “a crusty old Army guy,” Schmidt says – took charge.
“So you guys want to get this post going,” he told them matter-of-factly. “You’re gonna need officers. How many Marines are here?” A man yelled, “Semper fi!” The district commander nodded and said, “OK, you’re the post commander.”
Schmidt watched as he appointed a Navy man vice commander and an Army veteran second vice commander. “I’m thinking, ‘What’s left?’ He said he knew there were some Air Force people there, and I said, ‘I was in the Air Force.’ ‘Good,’ the district commander replied. ‘You’re the adjutant.’”
At the time, Post 63 met in a room at the Burns armory. The new leaders conducted a yard sale to buy a U.S. flag, staff and base, and each pitched in to buy a service flag to represent his military branch. Knowing the Harney County Fair was coming, they borrowed a truck and decorated it with bunting for a parade. “We went down Main Street and Broadway, saying, ‘The American Legion is back,’” Schmidt says.
As adjutant and commander, Schmidt raised the Legion’s profile in the community, even securing the old city fire hall for a post home. He’s also challenged others – including David Allen, District 10 commander and vice commander of Post 63 – to keep up the momentum.
“When we were sworn in as officers, Charlie spoke about the privilege of being an American Legion member, and how we have a responsibiilty to keep this organization going,” Allen says. “That touched every one of us. He’s confident in our abilities and is a great judge of character. When you talk to Charlie one on one, you’re immediately comfortable with him. You know he’s your friend from the start.”
Thanks in part to Schmidt’s efforts, his district – the smallest in population – now leads the Department of Oregon in membership. As national commander, he’s eager to focus on recruitment and retention. With the Legion’s centennial looming, he believes now is the time to talk about the organization’s track record – what it has done and continues to do for veterans, in communities nationwide and on Capitol Hill.
“Whether you served in Vietnam, Afghanistan, Iraq or stateside, you served with somebody,” Schmidt says. “Your buddies looked out for you, and you looked out for your buddies. That’s what The American Legion does – we’re veterans serving veterans, and veterans serving America. That’s why I do this. Somebody took care of me, and I want to give back.”
Who misses out when a town or city has no American Legion presence? Everyone, including youth, Schmidt says. Since his own post came back from the brink, it’s sent several students to Oregon Boys State, two of whom went on to the Air Force Academy and military careers.
“That’s something to feel good about,” he says. “The Legion’s programs are building the next generation of good citizens.”
Schmidt says he’s encouraged by his visits to posts across the country, especially those with young veterans in leadership roles. “It’s refreshing to see. We should be hungry for members. I ask them, ‘Are you telling your buddies about the Legion?’ We’re as relevant as we were in 1919.”
He’s optimistic that the more members talk about the Legion’s legacy, the more veterans will realize its value. “Just like the light went on for me,” he says, “it’ll come on for them.”
Matt Grills is managing editor of The American Legion Magazine.