Curtis Donald Feistner

West Point, 1990

Be Thou At Peace

Posted by Scott Storkamp on October 14, 2024:

Curt and I crossed that threshold from boyhood to manhood together. We shared those awkward, exciting times together as we became men. We entered the academy as a couple of Minnesota boys and left as men. Back then we were similar: quiet, introspective, unsure of ourselves. We were naturally drawn to each other. In high school, Curt and I skied on the cross-country ski team together. I will never forget the image of Curt. Awkward, quiet, thoughtful boy, climbing up a hill on skis, and racing down the other side. Skiing through sheer will, on wooden skis. Talented, but tentative. Shy. At West Point, Curt was very hard working and serious. I was a year older than him. I saw the other cadets in his company haze him quite vigorously. I know his first year was very hard for him. Yet I never saw him get discouraged. I still see him now, as a cadet, standing straight, tall, and pushing ahead stoicly. I think he really grew at West Point. I saw him gain confidence, and competence. We skied on the WP ski team together for the next 3 years. He was the bedrock of our ski team. I was always amazed how he could out-ski all of us. He did not look like he could. I could never figure out how he got such speed and power out of that ordinary looking body. I think he did it through sheer will. Not only did Curt ski well, he inspired us through his dogged persistence and determination. We shared some wonderful, joyous times together on those ski trips. It was a golden time for us. However, graduation on a beautiful West Point summer day leads to the responsibility and serious task of winning wars. Cadets scatter to the four winds, and so did Curt and I. Through fate or luck, a couple of years later, we both were stationed in Hawaii at the same time. Curt loved Hawaii. He ran the Honolulu Marathon, he ran the Iron Man triathlon. He hiked every mountain. There is a mountain in Maui, a 10000 foot high extinct volcano, called Haleakala. It was revered by the ancient Hawaiians as a holy place, for reflection and worshipful thought. Curt used to go to the top of that mountain, and hike down into the crater, and camp overnight, all by himself. Perhaps Curt found some solace on the top of that mountain, at peace with himself and the splendor of nature. Perhaps he subconsciously knew the importance of his life. Curt grew into a confident, strong soldier, pilot and commander. Yet he was able to retain that youthful innocence, in his easy smile, and kind consideration for others. Curt was humble. He was part of 160 SOAR, which is the pinnacle for an army aviator. Yet he never bragged about it, he barely mentioned it to me. He had not only respect from his soldiers, but the hard-earned admiration of his peers. Today, although the word selfless service is rarely used, Curt truly lived it. And he lived it humbly, not expecting gratitude or recognition. He lived it because he wanted to. Curt traveled his own path, from boy, to man, to hero. I do not think Curt ever aspired to be a hero. Yet he died a hero's death, and more important, he lived a hero's life. Curt Feistner, beloved son, aviator, soldier, ironman, friend, has written his own history.

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