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JOSEPH LINDEN YEAGER was born in
Lexington, KY, and grew up in the small town
of Ravenna, KY. His parents, Charles Everett
and Mabel Clara Yeager, were perfectionists.
His father was the scoutmaster in Ravenna,
and Joe (who always preferred to be called
“Lindy”) was the first in the troop to become
an Eagle Scout. This task was not easy because
there were no “soft” merit badges given in the
troop. Each badge was hard earned.
Joe entered West Point with a strong sense
of perfection. The more disciplined and the
more exact, the better Joe liked it. The quintessential
cadet, he tried to stand straighter
than anyone else, and he personified enthusiasm.
As an example to plebes, he would slip
his chin inside his dress coat collar. He was
“Jumpin’ Joe” Yeager and “Mr. Infantry,” but
at the same time he could play the piano and
was a jazz enthusiast, attending jazz sessions
whenever possible. When he played, crowds
of friends and bystanders would gather round
to listen.
At the branch drawing First Class year, Joe
stunned everyone by choosing the Air Force
and not the Army. Much later, when he was
asked why he had chosen the Air Force, he
said he was afraid that as a platoon leader or a
company commander, he would yell “Follow
me!” and start up a hill, but when he looked
back, there would be no one there. Image was
very important to Joe.
Flight training was not easy for Joe. He
struggled through primary pilot training at
Bainbridge Air Base, GA, and went on to basic
pilot training at Vance AFB at Enid, OK.
From there, he went to advanced pilot training
and on to the 38th Strategic Reconnaissance
Squadron at Forbes AFB, Topeka, KS, and
RB-47s. He quickly found that the Air Force
was not the Army, and certainly not West
Point. Before completing his checkout as a
copilot, he had the opportunity to go to the
Air Force Academy as an Air Training Officer
(ATO), basically an upperclassman for the
new incoming cadets.
Joe loved it. He was essentially back at
West Point with the same rigor and discipline.
One fellow ATO remembered, “He occasionally
would get up on a chair in the cadet dining
hall and give a rousing Patton-like talk on
some subject. The cadets ate it up.” He had
a “reputation of being a no-nonsense military
disciplinarian. This was particularly true of his
service with the Bayonet Committee from
atop a four-foot high wooden platform, with
a tight T-shirt, fatigue trousers with creases,
[and] gleaming combat boots.” With his command
voice and erect posture “the cadets knew
this was something special.” They would shout
back his commands, such as “Long thrust and
hold.” His fellow ATO went on, “In this, he
actually seemed more like an infantry troop
[leader] than an Air Force one.” A member of
the first class to graduate remembered him as
“a strong, enthusiastic leader. We were not sure
how he got all of his energy.” But, despite his
energy and enthusiasm, he could sometimes
be moody.
While at the Air Force Academy, Joe met
and later married a very pretty young woman,
Audrey Howell, which was not in accordance
with his favorite quotation: if the Air Force
wanted him to have a wife, they would issue
him one. At the end of his tour as an ATO, he
was assigned as a B-47 aircraft commander in
the 310th Bomb Wing at Smokey Hill (later
renamed Schilling) AFB, in Salina, KS. At this
time, unfortunately, things began falling apart
for him. He began having bouts of depression
and was diagnosed with a bipolar disorder or a
manic-depressive illness. Joe then was accepted
by the Air Force Academy as an English instructor
and sent to Columbia University for
an advanced degree. There, he and his wife
went through a very bitter divorce, and she
received custody of their twin sons. She later
died from an overdose of medication. The six-year-
old boys were then raised by her family.
Joe’s bouts with bipolar disorder increased to
the point where he was medically retired as
a captain with ten years of service, suffering
from severe depression.
Following his retirement, Joe returned to
Ravenna, made friends, worked for the state
for a few years and was viewed as an intellectual:
a Renaissance man with a dry sense of humor
and a wonderful mind. The community
loved him, found him a fascinating person,
and took care of him when he needed help.
Over time, however, his health deteriorated.
His bipolar disorder became more severe, and
he was in and out of the veterans hospital in
Lexington more frequently. He had become a
chain smoker, smoking up to four packs a day,
which resulted in emphysema that required
several heart operations. At times, he commented
that he did not have to put up with
the life he had.
On 9 Sep 1993, Joe died in his Lexington
apartment at age 62, the result of a self-inflicted
gunshot wound.
God bless you, Joe. May you have found
peace at last. We miss you.
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