country joe mcdonald and the fish- vietman song
copyright © 2008 Betsy L. Angert. BeThink.org
It was summer. Temperatures were high and war was in the air. People said they were upset with politicians who refused to heed the cries for peace. Battlefields far from home became burial grounds. The public noted too many people had died, perhaps unnecessarily. Americans publicly announced, its time to bring our young home. End the combat was the common cry. Yet, it seemed the Administration did not intend to declare a cease-fire.
Some feared a superpower might appear weak. A pullout would indicate that we had surrendered. As Americans safe at home pondered policy, soldiers still fell on foreign fields. Families struggled to come to terms with what it means to be a patriot. Moms and Dads of military personnel may have wrestled with the idea of what it means to win a war more so than the average American did. The year was 1969.
Now, near four decades later United States citizens can closely examine what was on August 16, two score ago. The opportunity for deep reflection, in retrospect, is possible since a museum at the Woodstock concert site opened in June 2008.
As visitors literally trek from one exhibit to the next, they figuratively travel through time and space. Spectators are emotionally transported to the world of the now legendary Woodstock, a festival that marked a political movement. Within the walls of the museum, people read of the arts and melodies gala, billed as "3 Days of Peace and Music."
The words the main organizer of this event, delivered to a massive audience of anti-war youth echoes through the newly constructed chamber. Then forty-nine (49) year-old dairy farmer Max Yasgur, a man who provided $50,000 and 600 acres of his land, pronounced "You have proven something to the world . . . that half a million kids can get together for fun and music and have nothing but fun and music." Indeed, they did. Many hoped the event had established that people, who yearn for global tranquility, could lead by example. News reports mirrored this message.
An estimated 400,000 youngsters turned up to hear big-name bands play in a field near the village of Bethel, New York state in what has become the largest rock concert of the decade.
About 186,000 tickets were sold so promoters anticipated that around 200,000 would turn up. But on Friday night, the flimsy fences and ticket barriers had come down and organisers announced the concert was free prompting thousands more to head for the concert.
Traffic jams eight miles long blocked off the area near White Lake, near Bethel, some 50 miles from the town of Woodstock.
Local police estimated a million people were on the road yesterday (August 1969) trying to get to Woodstock. They were overwhelmed by the numbers but were impressed by a good level of behaviour.
Yet, good behavior amongst brethren taught us nothing. Perchance sadly, those separate from the event, who saw what happened only from a distance, could not accept the veracity; peace is possible. Ed Meese, U.S. Attorney General, in the Reagan Administration certainly could not. When asked to reflect on the era in which the historic event occurred, he spoke with disapproval. Mister Meese, who in 1969, served as an Executive Assistant to then California Governor Ronald Reagan, remembered the Age of Aquarius with disdain. He said definitely, "It was the age of selfishness. It was the age of self-indulgence. It was the age of anti-authority. It was an age in which people did all kinds of wrong things."
Years later however, former President Bill Clinton mused the Reagan years, "The 1980s ushered in a gilded age of greed, selfishness, irresponsibility, excess, and neglect." Perhaps, history allows for perspective, or only verifies how often humans repeat errors.
Thirty-nine years later, Americans have an opportunity to re-assess for themselves what was and is. As many journey back into the garden that was Max Yasgur's farm, in Bethel Woods, Americans may realize novel insights. The past is ubiquitous in the present. As people young and older stroll through a Woodstock Museum, vivid reveries may stimulate much thought.
A child may study the similarities that plagued people then and now. War is again in the wind. A teen might think of the trail laid before them. Is it different from the path a parent or grandparent was forced to choose. Will they too be asked to fight for a country that did not care to end all combat? Ample analogies will likely be evident to a young adult. Elders might sway to the music piped into the halls and be transcended. Sounds from years gone by may offer a view of the world too easily forgotten. In 1969, and 2008, many of our young feel like they are fixin' to die. Why?
The answers are found in the lyrics of a melody sung at the Woodstock concert in 1969. The festival now seems a century ago. Perhaps the words will again be vocalized in Bethel Woods in 2008. Country Joe MacDonald and the Fish speak for many young Americans when they say . . .
"I Feel Like I'm Fixin' to Die"
Yeah, come on all of you, big strong men,
Uncle Sam needs your help again.
He's got himself in a terrible jam
Way down yonder in Vietnam (Iraq, Iran (?), Afghanistan)
So, put down your books and pick up a gun,
We're gonna have a whole lotta fun.
And it's one, two, three,
What are we fighting for?
Don't ask me, I don't give a damn.
Next stop is Vietnam;
And it's five, six, seven,
Open up the pearly gates,
Well there ain't no time to wonder why.
Whoopee! we're all gonna die.
Well, come on generals, let's move fast;
Your big chance has come at last
Gotta go out and get those reds - The only good commie is the one who's dead
And you know that peace can only be won
When we've blown 'em all to kingdom come.
And it's one, two, three.
What are we fighting for?
Don't ask me, I don't give a damn.
Next stop is Vietnam (Iraq, Iran (?), Afghanistan);
And it's five, six, seven
Open up the pearly gates.
Well there ain't no time to wonder why
Whoopee! we're all gonna die.
Huh!
Well, come on Wall Street, don't move slow.
Why man, this is war au-go-go.
There's plenty good money to be made
By supplying the Army with the tools of the trade.
Just hope and pray that if they drop the bomb.
They drop it on the Viet Cong.
And it's one, two, three.
What are we fighting for?
Don't ask me, I don't give a damn.
Next stop is Vietnam (Iraq, Iran (?), Afghanistan).
And it's five, six, seven.
Open up the pearly gates,
Well there ain't no time to wonder why
Whoopee! we're all gonna die.
Well, come on mothers throughout the land,
Pack your boys off to Vietnam (Iraq, Iran (?), Afghanistan)
Come on fathers, don't hesitate,
Send 'em off before it's too late.
Be the first one on your block
To have your boy come home in a box.
And it's one, two, three
What are we fighting for?
Don't ask me, I don't give a damn,
Next stop is Vietnam (Iraq, Iran (?), Afghanistan)
And it's five, six, seven.
Open up the pearly gates,
Well there ain't no time to wonder why.
Whoopee! we're all gonna die.
America, might we sigh and consider, the more things transform, the more they stay the same. If today we wish to chant, "Change we can believe in," might we contemplate that there is still talk of war. Troops trample through Iraq. Soon they may storm into Iran. Those in the Middle East might be shifted to the sands of Afghanistan, or possibly conflict in Pakistan will be on the horizon.
We need not journey to a Museum to revisit history. Our local mausoleum may serve to tell the tale of war and peace.
What are we fighting for . . .