Tribute to Major Frederick Reeves Hoeschler

By Lt Colonel Dan Rueth, October 19, 2018

According to his mom, Fritz Hoeschler (SPÜD as we all know him) was functionally deaf until age three, when he had corrective surgery. Also at age three, his parents game him a Fisher Price airport set. And only a little later, SPÜD started to understand then use the words “airport” and “airplane”—his first consistent words, actually.

I think it’s safe to say, then that SPÜD makes a psychological connection between flight and freedom. Or at least it’s safe for me to say that. I’m not a psychologist. What I mean is that the world opened up for him in two ways at once. Right while he was learning to play with jets and prop planes, towers and runways, the outside world was becoming perceptible in a completely new way. All at once, the earth’s sky and sounds were there for the taking. It must have been energizing. My parents never got me that particular toy, and I’ve never struggled with hearing. So clearly that’s why SPÜD’s a more gifted aviator than me. It’s not my fault. I wasn’t provided the right conditions for success.

A lot has happened between then and now. SPÜD started his own wonderful family. He followed the example set by his mom’s cousin, Mr. Royce Nelligan, in joining the military. He went through OTS, then the rigors of flight school here, then the F-15 B-course. He developed a love of service and a fierce dedication to the Air Force mission and his comrades in arms. That last part is more important in this world than flying. But heck, flight is as good of an introduction to a life of service as anything else I can imagine.

There were the challenges of moving a family overseas to Turkey and England, where the family learned to adapt. Through it all, he served, he instructed, he excelled, and he flew. Sometimes in combat. But always he flew. I know from experience that, even on his last days on active duty, he’ll fly whenever he can. And when he can’t fly, he’ll set at the ops desk to guide others through their own sorties. And yes, he’ll guide and inspire student aviators too. I know he’ll be the same way in his next career as, you guessed it, a professional pilot.

I’ve been flying a long time now, and my family and I are itching to retire in Minnesota. Well, SPÜD’s from Minnesota. And outside of his love of family and his wingmen, he doesn’t’ have an itch for much of anything but flying. I mention that because of a future I hope he and I can share. In a few years one of my kids, coming out of the emotional deafness that strikes during Middle or High School, might ask me about my time in the Air Force. I enjoy the idea of telling a story about another kid from right down the street. He started off at a disadvantage. He couldn’t even hear a plane if it flew past him. But he was dying ot feel that sense of freedom you can’t get with two feet on the ground (indicate photo of Fritz playing his cello in front of an airplane). It’s this kid up here on the screen, who at age 16 paid his own way through the flight academy at Holmen Field in the Twin Cities.

Long into adulthood, that kid had a stammer when you chatted with him. Sometimes you wondered if we should trust him to teach combat tactics or guide live weapons. But man, when he got in that plane and keyed the mic, all those doubts and all that disquiet would evaporate. He was in his element. This guy was born to fly, and flying made him a better person.

And then I’ll point up at one of the airplanes which are constantly overhead Lake Harriet and Lake Calhoun on their way to or from the wide open world. And I’ll mention that kid kept flying long after guys like me settled down to earth. He’s probably piloting that plane up there right now. “You can do it,” I’ll say, “if you listen hard to what guys like SPÜD Hoeschler, Major, USAF(Retired) have to tell you.”