By Mary Owen
Thurman Smith is one lucky dog!
“That’s what they called me when I came close to being bombed out of the air,” said Smith, a 90-year-old veteran of three wars with the U.S. Army Air Corps, which became the U.S. Air Force after World War II.
Smith, who has lived in Lyons for the past 35 years, still has plenty of stories to tell about his fighting days, his love of horses and his childhood on his family’s northeast Texas farm.
“I was born there, with my twin brother, Herman,” Smith said. “I had two other brothers, one younger and one older. I also had a brother who died at 6 months and a sister who died when she was 5.”
Thurman and Herman were both high school football phenoms. Herman, now deceased, left school, while his brother went on to college.
“I met my wife, Olene, the love of my life, at a Christmas party,” Smith said. “We both went to East Texas State Teacher’s College, and we both became teachers.”
Smith also coached football at Texas High School where he taught, until World War II.
“I joined the Army Air Corps in 1942, and Olene and I had to wait to get married until I got my wings and commission,” Smith said. “We were married for 64 years. She passed away last Thanksgiving Day.”
Military life was filled with challenges. Trained as a B-25 pilot, Smith was mistakenly sent to a base for the smaller A20s.
“You could only be 175 pounds to fly those planes, and I was a strapping 216, 6-foot-2 and all muscles,” he said. “The guy in charge pointed to one of the planes outside and said, ‘If you can get in it, I’ll keep quiet.’
“He was from Texas, too,” he said, grinning.
Before going to battle, Smith was squeezed from every angle into the tiny cockpit by his crewmates – one even pushed on his head. But he made it each time and flew 65 combat missions in the European Theater. Smith went on to serve for the next few decades, serving in both the Korean and Vietnam wars before retiring in 1968.
“I had signed on for the duration of the War and six months after, but they wouldn’t let me go,” he said of his first commission. “Not many soldiers had degrees then. They sent me to Washington, D.C., where I worked in special intelligence in a hole (of an office) under the Pentagon. I took information I was given and sorted it out for the generals.”
After spending a year and a half in Japan, working intelligence, Smith was told he was “going back behind the throttles.”
“Despite my age, they put me with the multi-engine jets,” he said. “Many of the young pilots couldn’t handle them and were bailing out.”
When an officer commended Smith for being steady under pressure, he admitted, “Yes, I am steady. I’m scared stiff.”
“I was even reported killed in action one time,” he said, chuckling. “I was a wing man then. In all of the smoke from the bombing, I nosedived and my engines spun out, but they couldn’t see me. I got out right at tree-top level.”
Before he lost transmission, Smith heard his squadron leader report to base, “We lost T. Smith on this round.”
“They didn’t know I was alive until I got back to base,” he said. “Boy, were they surprised to see me.”
After serving his country, Smith traded in his teaching career and a possible law practice (“I only had to take the bar exam, but never got around to it.”) for real estate. In the early ’60s, with advice from a war buddy, Smith purchased 125 acres on the Linn County side of the Santiam River in Lyons. He settled his beloved palomino horses from his Texas farm on the property, and raised cattle, which he still does today.
“I bought 100 head of Angus cattle, a bull, the acreage, house, barn, and all the farm equipment for $25,000 back then,” he said. “It turned out to be a good deal.”
The “good deal” spurred his interest, and after moving his family to Lyons, he sold real estate, a stopgap measure for earning money that turned into his life’s career.
Olene taught school at Mari Lynn for 14 years before she retired. Smith still brokers with his real estate firm, Smith & Jungwirth in Mehama.
The Smiths raised three children on their ranch: Randall, a retired U.S. Marine colonel, father of four who lives in northeast Texas with his wife and works for the government; Sharon, a mother of two who was married to a Naval officer and now lives in San Diego; and Mark, father of three and former minister turned government employee, who lives on the Lyons ranch with his wife.
Smith said he still dusts off his cowboy boots and gets out to “shoot the bull” with his friends over a cup of coffee at the Swiss Village off Highway 22 every day at noon.
“If there isn’t a bunch there, I go to the Little Beaver,” he said of the tiny restaurant on the main street in Lyons.
His best story is about his eight-second window of courage as lead pilot during the Battle of the Bulge in WWII.
“It was Christmas Day, 1944,” he said. “I was the only lead pilot left after four passes at the target. On my last pass, we only had eight seconds to hit the target – and we did! We got shot up, but we survived. I still have a piece of flak somewhere that we recovered from my plane.”
When asked about the war, he’s quick to talk about the bravery of his fellow soldiers – “all great men.” Every year, he meets up with members of the 409th Bomber Group of the 643rd Squadron, flying out of England. This year, the reunion will be in Michigan, and Smith plans to attend.
“I never miss it,” Smith said.
Putting on his cowboy hat, he saunters to the door, on his way to the restaurant where folks talk about their lives – and his.
“The Lord’s just been good to me,” Smith said, grinning. “I didn’t do anything to earn it.”
