On what would have been our 52nd wedding anniversary, I want to leave a remembrance about my husband, Colonel Norman Schmidt. He was a courageous, dedicated and heroic soldier and career test pilot. I want to contribute a story that reveals the remarkable, humorous, and kind man that he also was. When we were younger, with a thriving family of four children, we spent two years in Taiwan, where Norman worked with Taiwanese pilots to teach them to fly the F-104 for combat missions. We moved moved off base and into the mountains of Bei-Tou so that we could enjoy a true cultural experience, living among the local population. One afternoon, Norman and I attended a luncheon. It was an elegant affair and we were both dressed up, with Norman wearing his full military uniform. As we traveled the two-lane country road toward our home, Norman suddenly said, “Oh, those poor guys!” I didn’t realize, at first, who he was talking about. But he pulled our blue Ford Station wagon into the entrance of a local compound and I saw three farmers out in the field. We watched as they struggled to free a giant Water Buffalo who was mired up in thick, red mud, left in the wake of a recent typhoon. They were getting nowhere with their harness and rope. Norman climbed from the car and loped across the field toward them. They seemed quite surprised to see an American, especially one in full military uniform, stopping at their humble farm. And Norman even knew a bit of their language. Together, they were able to figure out a new rescue plan. He came running back to the car, dragging their rope along. He first backed the Ford into the field and over the ruts until we were close to the group. He then secured the rope to the back bumper. One of the farmers reattached the opposite end to the buffalo’s harness. Norm began easing the car forward, the tires spinning in the drenched earth. The men laughed and yelled when the huge animal lumbered up out of mud, free at last. When he went back to celebrate with his new friends, I saw that his uniform was covered in the red mud. The sight filled me with pride. Because Norman let go of every other care in order to help these hardworking farmers. From that day on, they always laughed and waved whenever we drove by. The world lost such a remarkable man. My children and I have spent many, difficult years missing him and striving to honor both the honorable soldier and the warm, wonderful husband and father we lost. Thank you for all of your contributions to this page. Marie lost her life on December 2, 2023, before we were able to post this story. We do so now, because she wanted so much to share it here. Respectfully, her four daughters (Kathy, Karen, Johanna and Janet)

Marie Anne Schmidt, Wife