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<em>David Dale Kirby</em> was born on February 15, 1948, one of seven children of Colonel (USAF) and Mrs. Robert Kirby. Born in Champaign, IL, he made Cheyenne, WY his home when his family moved there. His dream from childhood was to follow his father’s footsteps and become an Air Force officer and pilot. In pursuit of this goal, Dave distinguished himself in school both with high academic performance and by completing high school in three years. He was active in scouting and achieved the rank of Eagle Scout. Dave spent much of his free time working on automobiles, becoming an excellent “shade tree” mechanic. He entered West Point in 1965, one of the youngest members of the Class of 1969.</p>
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At West Point, Dave moved into the historic Old North Barracks and joined the ranks of Company B, 4th Regiment, where he would remain throughout his time as a cadet. He was honored to have lived one year in President Dwight Eisenhower’s (USMA 1915) cadet room, identified by a bronze plaque over the fireplace. Dave took the trials and tribulations of cadet life in stride, seldom complaining or losing his temper. He was well liked and greatly respected by those who knew him, always willing to listen to the personal and academic problems of others. His easy going attitude and “sway back” hat hid an unmatched intellect and determination to excel. He could easily make plain the intricacies of civil engineering, “juice,” or thermodynamics, making the most complex concepts understandable to those less academically gifted.</p>
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Dave was a member of the USMA Pistol Team for all four years, earning his Corps Squad letter. The team went undefeated from 1966 to 1969, and in Dave’s First Class year it not only had a perfect 12–0 season but defeated all four other service academies and the Royal Military College. His interest in small arms extended into extracurricular activities as a four-year member of the Pistol Club, serving as its president as a First Classman. Beginning in March of First Class year, Dave regained his passion for working on automobiles, and he could be found on any weekend in the cadet parking lot above Michie Stadium with grease on his knuckles.</p>
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A good illustration of Dave’s temperament is the saga of Christmas Leave, 1968. His roommate, who had an unauthorized vehicle in the keeping of his girlfriend (later spouse), offered Dave a ride to Omaha, NE, from where Dave’s father could pick him up, and father and son could continue the trip west to Wyoming. The cadets took off on a cold, overcast day in a 1964 “rag top” Triumph TR-4. They hit their first snow in western New York, where the fabric top of the sports car blew off. In Ohio, the heater stopped working, and by the time they reached Illinois the car was burning a quart of oil every 50 miles, and the carburetor began freezing up in the sub-zero wind chill. In central Iowa, the intrepid travelers finally determined that they had experienced enough “adventure” and called for help. They were picked up by the roommate’s parents, finally making it to Omaha in the middle of the first blizzard of the season. Despite nearly freezing, breathing burning oil for hundreds of miles, and having to wait several hours in an unheated gas station, Dave never lost his temper, assisted in making necessary repairs, and was more than gracious to the rescuers. The friendship between the roommates survived (although the Triumph did not, being sold at the first opportunity for a plane ticket back to New York).</p>
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Upon graduation, Dave “took the option” and was commissioned as a second lieutenant in the United States Air Force. This came as no surprise to those classmates who knew him and his career goals. The only question was how he was going to be able to use his skill with a pistol in an aircraft cockpit. He attended flight training at Randolph AFB, near San Antonio, TX, where he became popular with his fellow student–pilots, many from the Air Force Academy, despite his many heated discussions concerning the superiority of his alma mater. He spent most of his free time either rooting for the “Army Team,” working on his Pontiac GTO, or hanging out at the local drag strip. Dave became a skilled pilot and was slated to fly the C-141, the Air Force’s newest transport. However, tragedy struck on August 28, 1970. On the night before graduation from flight school, Dave was killed in a single car accident on Interstate 35 near San Antonio.</p>
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Dave’s body was escorted home to Cheyenne by Scott Nix, his West Point classmate and fellow student in Air Force flight training. He was buried in the Mount Olivet Cemetery in Cheyenne. He had completed flight training and was buried in his Air Force uniform, complete with aviator flight wings. His family was devastated. His father stated years later during an interview, “Dave has never been out of our thoughts.” He was taken from us far too young. Because his death occurred during a time when many of his classmates were deploying to Vietnam some of those closest to Dave did not learn of his death until months later. Dave was a good friend and superb officer. He had a great career ahead of him and would have been a great father and husband had he lived. All these years later, he is still greatly missed by all of us who knew him.</p>
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<em>— Jim Gavitt and Casey Brower</em></p>