“First Person” shares the stories of people who make a life here, in their words. Conversations are edited for clarity and length.
Gregory “Grog” Johnson, 79, is a retired four-star admiral in the U.S. Navy who began as a fighter pilot, rose from squadron to fleet commander, and served as an aide to Gen. Colin Powell and Secretary of Defense (and Mainer) William S. Cohen. He grew up in Westmanland, a community settled by Swedish immigrants in northern Maine. He and his wife, Carol Hancock, live in a log cabin relocated from New Sweden and restored on the Harpswell waterfront.
Swedish settlers began arriving in northern Maine in 1870, leaving behind famine and feudalism. They were paupers and most went to the Midwest, but Maine’s economy needed labor to build rail lines. Bowdoin graduate W.W. Thomas Jr. was consul to Sweden during the Civil War, and he helped recruit a group of settlers who were no strangers to hard winters and rocky soil.
My great-grandfather built this log cabin; we call it “Farfar Stuga,” or “father’s father’s cabin.” My grandfather was born in it, as was my father. The land in Aroostook County is hilly and, frankly, we grew more rocks than potatoes. We had food, but not much money. My brother and I were students and janitors at our one-room schoolhouse; each morning, we got a fire going in the furnace and went to a farmer’s house for a bucket of water. We earned $1.50 a week, money we saved toward college.
My parents lived to get their four children through college. I aspired to be an attorney, to provide “equal justice under law,” as inscribed at the entrance to the U.S. Supreme Court. I applied to one law school, the University of Maine, and got accepted. But by 1968, all deferments had ended and everybody was getting drafted for the war in Vietnam.
The lady at the draft board, Katrina Anderson, knew me and my family. She said, “You’re going to graduate on Friday, June 7, and I’m going to give you a one-way ticket to Fort Dix on Monday, June 10, Private Johnson.” She opened up a drawer holding 500 file folders and pulled out mine. “You’re the first person from your family ever to go to college, and I’d really like you to be an officer.” She opened up the other drawer, which was empty, and put my folder in it to give me time to enlist.
Back at UMaine, a fraternity brother told me about the Navy’s Aviation Officer Candidate School. I took the admissions test, graduated from UMaine, married and went on a two-day honeymoon. When I came back, I found a manilla envelope waiting. The letter inside said, “We’re happy to inform you that you’ve been accepted.”
I’d only been out of Maine once. I flew to Pensacola, Florida, where the school was. Remember the movie “An Officer and a Gentleman”? That was OCS; Lou Gossett was exactly like my drill instructors. But I came to realize that all the “give me 50,” endless marching and inspections had a purpose. They were teaching us that, in aviation, every checklist must be followed or you — and, worse, others — could get killed. Those lessons have served me well.
I got my wings in 1970 and was assigned to the A-7 Corsair II attack plane. One of my instructors, Lt. Bernard J. “B.J.” Smith, had more than 450 combat missions over North Vietnam. All aviators need a call sign and they can’t all be “Maverick.” Smith said, “Greg, I have a call sign for you. How about ‘Grog?'” It’s a term from the British Royal Navy, where they used lime juice to prevent scurvy but mixed it with rum to make it enticing. Most people in the Navy still know me as Grog. Not sure how he arrived at that name, but maybe a night of too much celebration?
I spent the first 25 years of my career flying from carriers. I made nine deployments and I ended up with 5,000 flight hours and 1,100 carrier landings. I had to spend a great deal of time away from my family, but it was exciting and rewarding to keep the peace during the Cold War. I went on to a series of assignments ashore and began to think, “Maybe there’s a higher purpose in this.” Early on, I spent a year at the Naval War College, which helped me realize that I was more than an aviator. I was in the national security business, helping to achieve peace through strength.
Later, I was assigned to be executive assistant to Gen. Colin L. Powell, chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff. D.C. is full of talented people who don’t lack self-confidence, but there’s a not-so-thin line between that and hubris. Powell was immensely talented and had every reason to be arrogant or hubristic, but he wasn’t. When he walked into the room, he just had that presence, and he used it in constructive ways.
Some years later, I was chosen as military assistant to Defense Secretary William S. Cohen. He was a fellow son of Maine, an accomplished politician, strategist and diplomat. He was a generous role model and mentor. We did a lot of travel, building friendships and goodwill for our country. These days, diplomacy is a lost art.
My last assignments, from 2000-2004, were in Europe as commander of the U.S. Sixth Fleet and, later, U.S. Naval Forces. I was also “dual-hatted” as a NATO commander. During that period, we dealt with unrest in the Balkans, the growth of NATO, and the aftermath of 9/11, including Afghanistan and Iraq. When that assignment ended, I decided to retire and return to Maine.
After my dad died, my mom moved to Brunswick. My first wife, Joy, and I would visit her each summer. They would go exploring and were particularly fond of lunch at the old Dolphin Marina, with its horseshoe-shaped bar and lobstermen smelling of bait and having chowder.
Joy declared that we were going to live in Harpswell. She was a bit of an impulse shopper and within days, she had found a saltwater farm for sale off Cundy’s Harbor Road. We lived there full time after I retired in 2004. She loved that farm and was able to enjoy it for 12 years until her death from cancer in 2016.
A couple of years later — at the insistence of my daughters, Sydney and Ashley, and with help from a friend — I was introduced to Carol, who had lost her husband to cancer two decades before. My friend told me not to get my hopes up: “If Carol was going to remarry, she would have a long time ago.” We went out to dinner, and I guess Carol changed her mind. We married in 2019.
When I retired, I started a consulting business, Snow Ridge Associates, and I have worked with several defense companies. I supported mentoring programs that the Joint Chiefs run, served on nonprofit boards serving veterans, and have been very engaged in Maine’s institutions of higher education.
Life has been good to me. I have a wonderful family and had the privilege to serve for 36 years, carrying on the heritage of my parents’ generation, who grew up in the Depression, fought World War II, and brought the greatest period of growth that our country and the world has ever seen.
It is a difficult time now for senior leadership in the military. I am registered unaffiliated. I never had a bumper sticker. I always vote, but I am not going to be active in politics and think the military needs to stay apolitical. For the most part, throughout history, our presidents have honored that.
