TOP GUN

piston-engine division, Harvey and his team were brought into a hotel ballroom where the almost 3-foottall stainless steel victory cup sat on a table. at was in 1949.

ey had a photo made with the trophy and it was the last day any of them would see it until more than half a century later.

In 1999, Zellie Rainey-Orr got involved with the Tuskegee Airmen as the result of a Tuskegee Airman pilot from her Mississippi hometown who died in combat — 1st Lt. Quitman Walker.

Rainey-Orr confesses, until that day, she never knew much about the Tuskegee Airmen.

She was about to get a rsthand lesson from the men who were there.

“I thought I was just gonna go and put a ower on the grave of Quitman Walker,” she said. “I assumed he was buried here in Indianola, Mississippi and that’s when I would learn that no one knew where he was buried.” rough her quest to help, she would eventually meet Alva Temple, the captain of the 1949 “Top Gun” team at a 2004 event to award Walker’s medals posthumously, at Columbus Air Force Base, Mississippi.

Rainey-Orr reached out to the Walker family in an attempt to help locate the airman’s remains.

It was there that she learned of the missing trophy.

“I just felt a connection,” RaineyOrr said.

Unable to resist, she began a quest to locate it.

Not knowing what the trophy looked like, and with Temple, at that time, in failing health, she reached out to the family in hopes of nding more details.

Someone in Temple’s family mentioned that there was a newspaper story covering the event, dated May 12, 1949, on a bedroom dresser. at clipping provided RaineyOrr with enough information to start contacting military bases and museums.

Within a week, she received a response from the National Museum of the United States Air Force, in Dayton, Ohio.

“ ey said they had the trophy and attached a photo,” she said.

Rainey-Orr called Temple’s family on Sunday, Aug. 29 to share the good news, but was told Temple had passed the day before.

“It was almost like his spirit guided me,” she said. “I didn’t know the story or the impact. I was just looking for a trophy.”

Oddly, while it took Rainey-Orr less than a week to locate a trophy that had been missing for more than 50 years, it would take her much longer to get the U.S. Air Force to agree to bring it out of mothballs.

“I was talking to the historian at the Air Force Museum, the one who sent the photo, and I said I’d love to come see it,” she recalled. “And he (the historian) said, ‘It’s not on display — and it will never be on display.’”

Rainey-Orr was confused.

She thought that this was an important piece of Air Force history, it was the rst nationwide gunnery competition since the end of the war and it was the rst time that Black pilots had participated.

Why wouldn’t they want the trophy displayed?

After a lot of back-and-forth negotiations, the Air Force agreed to let the trophy be shown.

In December of the same year, Air Force Museum representatives took the trophy out of storage and delivered it to Detroit, Michigan, the home of another Tuskegee Top Gun, Harry Stewart, for its rst unveiling at the National Museum of the Tuskegee Airmen’s annual banquet.

After the banquet, the trophy was returned to the museum where it went on permanent display in early 2006.

Harvey was unable to attend the 2004 banquet in Detroit, but Rainey-Orr, who is now an author and Tuskegee Airman historian, prompted him to make the journey to Ohio in 2006.

When asked how he felt upon seeing the trophy on display, Harvey smiled and said, “Feels good. Feels very good — very, very good. Mission accomplished.”

About that 100th birthday

Harvey plans to celebrate his 100th birthday with true ghter pilot air.

He says close to 270 friends, family and guests from around the country, many of them “military brass,” will join him for a private gala celebration in Centennial, Colorado. ere will be three birthday cakes, one fashioned into the shape of a Corvair F-102 Delta Dagger — “made of gluten-free marble and cappuccino,” of course.

What does one hope for after blowing out all of those candles?

“Continued good health,” he said. “Continued excellent health.”

And what does 100 years feel like?

Harvey will tell you.

“It doesn’t feel any di erent than the rst year,” he joked. “ Actually, I don’t remember the rst year, but I do remember the second — that’s when I got measles.”

His secret to longevity?

“I try to be a nice person to everybody — until they prove otherwise,” he said. “Just be nice to people. My motto has always been, ‘Do unto others as you have them do unto you.’ I live by that one and it works.” Rainey-Orr agrees, and describes Harvey, whom she rst met in 2005 as “caring and compassionate.”

“I just like to say he is a real example of what we sow, we get to reap,” she said. “He is a rst in many areas, including becoming the rst Black pilot to y jets in Korea — and often unless he told the stories, they were forgotten.”

While saddened that she’ll miss Harvey’s birthday bash, Rainey-Orr is happy for her friend.

“I’m just so happy he got to live long enough to see the day, and to understand that people really do appreciate his sacri ces in the service of our country,” she said, “because he had comrades who did not. ey survived the war, but didn’t get to see the respect.”

But the big question is, what does the rst “Top Gun” think of the new “Top Gun: Maverick” movie?

“I liked the rst one better,” Harvey said.