A Midwestern kid, he grew up only a stone’s throw from the Mississippi River in the picturesque small Missouri town of Festus. A multi-sport star and a member of his high-school band and student council, Kent Kiepe stayed close to home for college graduating from Western Missouri State University in 1985. But the skies were calling.
It was the U.S. Navy that gave Kent the chance to chase his dream of flying. After receiving his commission through the Navy’s Aviation Officer Candidate School program, he excelled in flight school and achieved his goal to fly naval aviation’s newest strike fighter – the F/A-18 Hornet.
Even though he was now hundreds to thousands of miles from home, his close family ties with his parents and sisters grew even stronger. Kent relished sharing stories of his budding naval aviation career with them and came home as often as he could.
“During the Christmas season of 1985, Kent came home on his first leave since joining the Navy,” remembered his dad, Glenn Kiepe. “Among the many things he was proud to talk about was a pair of genuine naval aviator sunglasses. Each time he’d come home, he would say, ‘Hey, Pop, you ought to get a pair of these sunglasses, they’re great.’ I would say, well, did you bring me a pair? He’d reply with a grin, ‘No, but I sure will the next time I come home.’”
Over the next few years, Kent’s unfulfilled promises to bring his dad a pair of official naval aviation sunglasses became their favorite running joke.
After earning his wings of gold, Kent’s first fleet assignment was to one of the Navy’s most forward-deployed frontline squadrons, Fighter Attack Squadron 192 (VFA-192) on board the USS Midway (CV-41). He quickly became one of the Navy’s top pilots, and in 1990, was awarded Midway’s “Tailhooker of the Year,” and ranked in the top 10 of 100 pilots in carrier landings.
Although stationed on the other side of the world, Kent still found time to take leave to visit his family back in Missouri every year. Each time, without a pair of the pledged fancy Navy sunglasses for his dad.
Kent completed his flying tour with VFA-192 on Midway during Operation Desert Shield in the Persian Gulf late 1990. His next duty station brought him back to the states as a test pilot with Air Test and Evaluation Squadron 4 (VX-4) headquartered at Naval Air Station Pt. Mugu along California’s central coast.
At VX-4, he played a leading role in the development of the new radar system for F/A-18 Super Hornet, which required him to periodically travel to St. Louis to the McDonnell-Douglas (now Boeing) production facility where the aircraft was manufactured. St. Louis was only about 30 miles from Kent’s hometown of Festus.
“These trips also allowed him to pop in, on occasion, for a brief visit home,” said Glenn. “The visits were always a surprise blessing. A few weeks after one of those quick visits, came that terrible day in February 1992. My wife, Mary Jane, and I were startled by a knock on the door. Two Navy chaplains informed us that our son had been in an air crash and did not survive. Our lives would never be the same.”
Kent, and squadron mate Craig Melton, were flying a small Cessna 210 aircraft from their home air base at Pt. Mugu to attend meetings at Naval Air Weapons Station China Lake in the high desert of Eastern California. After experiencing a catastrophic engine failure, the plane crashed in the San Gabriel Mountains just north of Los Angeles.
Kent’s family was devastated. His commanding officer at VX-4, Capt. Tom Perkins, kept in constant touch with the family, making sure they had complete access to all information and other details concerning the crash. After a few weeks, all of Kent’s personal belongings were sent home.
“Capt. Perkins wanted to make sure everything was accounted for on the list,” said Glenn. “I assured him that everything was there except for Kent’s sunglasses, which seemed rather unimportant at that time. He said that he would track them down. I told him not to bother and I dismissed it.”
Not long after the accident, Glenn wanted to visit the crash site. Joined by his brother Charles, the two headed for California in early June. Before venturing into the mountains with the Navy, Glenn met with Kent’s girlfriend, Kathy Fulton, for lunch in Los Angeles. During their meeting, Kathy gave Glenn a pair of naval aviator sunglasses that Kent had bought shortly before his death.
“I could hardly believe it,” said Glenn. “Kent had purchased these glasses the weekend before he lost his life. Sadly, I finally had gotten my promised genuine naval aviator sunglasses, but now it was causing me to wonder what happened to Kent’s missing glasses?”
The next morning Glenn and Charles met up with Capt. Perkins and several of Kent’s squadron mates at the Pt. Mugu naval air station to prepare for their trip into the mountains.
“During our meeting, Capt. Perkins told me that he was unable to locate Kent’s sunglasses,” remembered Glenn. “It was of such small concern to me at that time, that I was surprised he even mentioned it.”
After a 60-mile drive and more than an hour hike through rugged terrain, Glenn, with his Navy escorts, arrived at the crash site. Although it had been less than four months since Kent’s death, the wilderness now showed little signs of the accident. Other than some broken brush and some loose soil, the area appeared undisturbed.
Glenn was shown where Kent’s body was found and with tears welling up he began to dig a shallow hole in the ground to bury a small aluminum cross from Kent’s mom as well as his son’s naval aviator wings as a memorial.
“This was the place I was to leave his mother’s precious memento and Kent’s gold wings,” said Glenn. “I could hardly see as the tears flowed. My brother came to my side, knelt down beside me, and helped me dig. I laid the container with those special items gently into the hole. We covered it up, laid rocks on top and said a short prayer.”
After a few minutes, Glenn knew it was time to start back. He pushed against ground to help him stand up when he felt something in his hand. He thought he had just grabbed some broken brush or branches that laid on the ground.
“I stood up, opened my hand, and there to my astonishment was Kent’s broken genuine naval aviator sunglasses,” said Glenn. “It took me a second to realize what had just happened, but all of a sudden I felt an amazing sense of peace in that moment. I truly felt that I was being told that it’s okay and that I will see my son again one day.”
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