In June of 1965, having decided to drop out of college, I walked into the recruiting booth in Times Square. By the time I walked out 45 minutes later I had signed papers to enlist in the Marine Corps, without telling my father. I was 19 years old. In those days there were only two legal actions that an adolescent could do without parental information - give blood, and enlist in the military. Remember, this is a time when at age 18 males became subject to conscription through the draft.
I served during Vietnam. Marines had landed at DaNang that March. I knew people who had seen serious combat, some of whom bore psychological scars even if not physical ones. Some had been decorated for what one acquaintance called "acts that would would have gotten me imprisoned in civilian life."
All of my service was stateside. Other than boot camp at Parris Island at Infantry Training Regiment at Camp Geiger (part of the larger base at Camp LeJeune, and itself home of the Recon Marines), all of my service was at Marine Corps Schools, Quantico Virginia.
Part of my service was administrative support - it was in the Marines that I first learned about computers.
The more memorable part was to serve in the Post Band. It is this experience that shapes a major part of my reaction to Memorial Day.
The main military bands - the US Marine Corps Band, the Army Band - are largely made up of professional musicians, who audition for positions directly from college or conservatory, and are not regular servicemembers, although there are occasionally those who enlisted through normal processes and who when found to be musically gifted get the opportunity to be promoted to those organizations.
My path and experience were different. In 1965 I had decided to drop out of college. I went to the Armed Forces Recruiting booth in Times Square. About 45 minutes later I walked out having signed papers to enlist - contingent on passing a physical and clearing a background check. I was just 19, and my father was furious because I had not asked him. In those days the two legal actions one could take on one's own while younger than 21 was to donate blood and to enlist in military service. If that seems strange, remember that males in those days were from their 18th birthday subject to conscription under the draft.
I knew in boot camp that I was going to be assigned to the Post Band at Quantico.
Marines had landed at DaNang in March of that year. That would have some impact upon what I experienced while in the band.
Military bands play for graduations - from Boot Camp and OCS
Military bands play in parades - certainly on dates with military connections, like Memorlal Day and Veterans Day, but also for community occasions, such as the one we played in Front Royal Virginia.
Military bands play at schools, sometimes in community concerts
Military bands may play at funerals for those high-ranking or highly decorated
Military bands play when troops and ships of the line go forth.
Military bands play when tropps and ships of the line return.
Military bands play when a new commander takes over, when high ranking visitors review the troops.
Military bands play when those who have seen combat are awarded decorations for their service.
My memories of Memorial Day start when I was young. In Larchmont New York there was a parade which ended at the large bronze plaque/ memorial on which there were names. Boy Scouts, Girl SCouts, Campfire Girls, and their younger groups would parade in uniforms. Other children would decorate their bike wheels with flag colored bunting.
All of this was celebratory,
The parents of my friends had often served, as had my father. Most had served in WWII, a few in Korea.
THere were still people alive who had served in France in the Great War, as had my mother's uncle who had been a doctor in the medical corps in 1918.
Most of the veterans had not seen combat. After all, there are many support positions essential to the combat role - logistics, food and ammunition supply, plane crews, people in shipyards. In World War II and for some time later those positions were filled by uniformed service personnel, who even if they did not see combat knew the role they played, and were very aware of the sacrifice of those who perished.
At the end of that parade in Larchmont would be the solemn reading of names of those who had perished, with rifle volleys in commemoration. We were reminded that for all the festivity there was a serious purpose to this day.
At Quantico we often took out of town gigs in cases where the communities could not get the Marine Band, although MA Senator Leverett Saltonstall, himself an Army Veteran, would specifically request us, probably because his brother, Peter Brooks Saltonstall, was a USMC Sergeant who died on Guam in 1944.
We played at Concord for the annual celebration of Patriot's Day, and then went into Boston for the finish of the Marathon.
On other occasions we might travel to reunions of Marine units from World War II.
On occasion we would actually play at ceremonies in cemeteries. For these, and for Memorial Day, we would not just play the usual - Sousa marches, the hymns of the various services. We would march in funeral step - lifting and holding each foot before continuing forward - perhaps to the beat of a single drum stroke, or to the Funeral March from Chopin's Piano Sonata.
I have twice since leaving military service been at graveside services at Arlington National Cemetery. One was for the highly-decorated father of a good friend. The other was in my capacity as a choir director at an Orthodox Church for the burial of a female congregant who had served with distinction.
I drive past Arlington Cemetery almost every weekday.
I have on occasion just gone in and wandered among graves of people I do not know, pondering the sacrifices made. Some were killed in combat, but many earned the right to repose in this hallowed place without suffering directly in combat. It is not like, for example, the US military cemetaries on top of the cliffs over Normandy.
But even those of us in non-combatant military units understood what the cost of service could be. I knew people at Quantico who had been highly decorated, even though the main Marine combat experience of men like Jim Webb was still several years ahead. One friend who had one a Silver Star told me "I won a medal for doing things that would have gotten me imprisoned back home." There is also that cost that we ask of our service personnel - not merely that they die, but that they kill others.
I did not see combat. Neither did my father. Both of us knew men who had in the wars of our times.
My father was an officer in the Navy. He kept his uniforms until after my mother died, and he moved out of the house in which I had grown up.
I was an enlisted man in the Marine Corps who turned down a chance to become an officer. I did not keep my uniform when I left the Marines.
I enlisted because I believed I had an obligation of service, even though I had openly opposed the war in Vietnam, marching in a demonstration against it more than a year before I enlisted on June 23, 1975, exactly one month after my 19th birthday.
I am now a Quaker by persuasion, by choice. It is interesting that a number of those at my Monthly Meeting became Friends in part because of their military service.
The person I am today would not enlist. I can accept that my country can demand of me my life in its service under some circumstances, but it cannot demand of me that I take another human life - that is a very personal decision. There are circumstances where I will, for example, to protect children entrusted to my care as a teacher.
Yet I still honor my own military service. In my time in the Marines I came to more fully understand the great diversity of our nation. My bootcamp platoon include two brothers from Guatemala seeking US citizenship through military service. There were people from small towns in Ohio and Pennsylvania. THere were people from various neighborhoods in New York City.
Three of us who had hung out at one of the first singles bars in New York, Malachys' on 3rd Avenue, enlisted at around the same time. We used to see one another at the Jewish services at Parris Island. The owner of the bar, Roland, was himself a former Marine and gave each of us a free evening's worth of drinks before we shipped out.
In my time in the Marines I met people who returned from combat. There were those I knew, however slightly, who were wounded or who died. Yes, there are names on the black wall that are familiar to me personally.
I did infantry training with Johnny, the younger brother of Arthur Ashe.
One of my boot camp friends decided after his Marine Service to become a minister.
In the years since my own service, i have reflected long and hard on what military service means.
I always carry in my heart this thought - knowing the willingness of those to serve for what they believe to be our nation's best interests, that those who make the decisions not waste this precious resource in wars of choice, in combat operations of futility, and that even if we oppose a particular military action we fully respect those who serve honorably, that we care for them and their families afterward.
In this Washington Post editorial for today the final paragraph reads like this:
It does seem to us that Memorial Day has meant more to much of the country in recent years, and there is a widespread respect for the men and women in uniform and an appreciation of what they have done for their country. There is, too, a greater awareness of the trauma and lasting damage inflicted on many of those who survived the worst shocks of war. But we have not yet come to a full understanding of the debt owed those who have died and suffered for this country.
I served stateside, in a band. I was a part of something, but all I gave up was months of a life. And yet, that connects me to those whose price was far greater than mine, and I know it.
Colbert King of the Washington Post has a column today titled Memorial Day deserves better. He writes in part
The fallen from the Civil War, World War I, World War II, Korea, Vietnam, Iraq, Afghanistan and all of the conflicts in between deserve a moment of respect. This ought to be a time when the living set aside their daily cares, albeit temporarily, to remember and honor those who made the supreme sacrifice.
I think back to the Civil War, because when I was young there were still survivors of that conflict.
I was born at the end of World War II. I lived through Korea, although I was not aware of it at the time. I have memories of conflicts before Vietnam, of American troops in Lebanon, or of the shelling of Quemoy and Matsu. The conflicts in which those my age and younger have participated are now too many to easily recall.
We can argue about the justifiability of any particular conflict or action.
We should remember that those who serve - now all ostensibly volunteers - are always at risk for that service. They may die in training necessary to prepare them for the potential of combat. They may like me never come closer to the battlefield than the awards ceremonies for those who served or the cemeteries where they lie in repose.
For me, my non-combat service connects me back to the memories of those parades in Larchmont, with their solemn conclusion. It connects me with those who experience far more of the horrors of war than I have ever known. It leads me to read the poetry of Wilfred Owen and Lt. Colonel John McCrae. It reminds me to ponder the solemnity, to remember that this day began 150 years ago with the decoration of the graves of the fallen.
Colbert King writes
Holiday observers will be competing against events such as Best Buy’s “Memorial Day Kickoff to Summer Event,”Home Depot’s “Memorial Day Savings” and “Marlo’s Memorial Day Sale — Furniture 50% Off Entire Store.”
The choice: Attend a Memorial Day parade or visit a cemetery to remember our fallen, or navigate to Coupons.com and get Memorial Day sales and “extra discounts on top of already low prices from hundreds of stores including: Macy’s, JCPenney, Home Depot, Target, Walgreens, DressBarn, and BabiesRUs.”
It may be all Memorial Day can do to get a word in edgewise.
There are multiple posts here that have already reminded us of what this day should mean, even for those of us who are anti-war.
Colbert King concludes his column thusly:
In between the holiday sales and tips on how to enjoy a three-day weekend, give some thought to those in our country’s history who gave their last full measure of devotion.
That’s what this Army veteran will do.
This Quaker former Marine will remember those who gave that last full measure, and also all those who took on the burden and responsibility of military service.
All who have served honorably deserve our respect.
They have mine.
On this day especially,