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I’m in the Band A Viet Nam veteran story CHAPTER 1 Eddie, Being raised in a small upstate New York town of Fort Edward provided him with few interesting traits, but yet he knew there was something special about himself, he had a calling, he knew he did…he just didn’t know what it was, but then again, how many kids did. He was innocence and naive. You may not think these are necessarily negative traits, but they were to be his undoing. In Fort Edward, as Simon and Garfunkle once sang, he was brought up believing that God had His eyes on us all. In Eddy’s case he must have blinked. Patriotism went hand-in-hand with his innocence and naivete. He never realized how often people like himself could be exploited. How wrong can one person be? After spending a less-than-spectacular time in school, Ed finally graduated and in 1964 things could not have been much better. He was brash, he was cocky, he had his whole life before him and the choices before him were unlimited. There was college, or work, or just plain adultery. Being a pragmatic individual he settled for the work/college/idolatry option, with the heavy emphasis on adultery because his life was consumed by a preoccupation. A preoccupation that was to be his undoing. A preoccupation that would bring him face to face with his mortality. That preoccupation was with a baton. Now you may be wondering how a baton could lead anyone into the valley of death. That is what this story is all about. Now for those of you not in the know, Drum Corps is a group of people that get together playing horns and drums, usually making a lot of noise (but sometimes it can be considered music) as well as partying and hanging out with your friends, at carnivals, and parades. Eddie was fortunate enough to be involved with corps whose noise most of the time was music, and sometimes very good music. Ed’s career in corps started off with playing drums. Through the years, though, he learned to work in just about every section, horns and color guard included. He was so versatile and talented that he worked his way up to the coveted Drum Major position. You know, the guy out front that yells orders and stuff and waves his arms around a lot. He had a talent all right. The kid was talented as hell. No one had ever seen a human being do the things Eddie could do with a baton before, not to mention the waving of his arms. His parents Roy and Ethel were proud of him, his girlfriend was proud of him, as a matter of fact, his hometown was proud of him. Imagine, we’re talking about a 17 years old and he has every drum corps in the country vying for him to be their drum major. Eddie felt pretty good. Pretty good indeed. Things were going along great for this bright shining star. There were drum corps, a lot of beer, a terrific girlfriend whose mom and dad really liked him, a lot of beer, travel, did I mention a lot of beer. Then it happened… 1965. Talk about things coming to a crashing halt just when things were moving ahead at the speed of light. Conversations on the street were now concerned with talk of this “war” in a far-off country called Viet Nam. Those in the bewildered masses didn’t really concern themselves too much with this until their 18th birthday. You see, back then they had this really great system for people to take part in democracy and it was called the draft. Now, if you happened to be a fortunate son, or someone with influence, a career student, married, or infirmed in some way, you didn’t have to worry too much about this. But the draft was perfect for innocent, naïve, physically fit small-town American boys who were patriotic, like Eddie. So on that wonderful day in December of 1965 Eddie got his own personal special letter from the President of the United States to join in the fight to keep this country free from the communist hordes. At the time he was really confused, but then he figured, “Well, this is my chance to do my part” like so many others from his small town had done so many times in the past. They were in places like Korea, Europe, and the South Pacific during the last really big and important wars. Eddie wanted to be remembered like they were on Memorial Day, with flag-waving and flower-laying, speech-making with beer-drinking and tears in your eyes and all that. But most of all he wanted people to be proud of him. Then the sobering thought hit him as the nightly news reports started showing more and more pictures of these green body bags with stories that our boys weren’t doing so good in southeast Asia. Including one of his hometown heroes, Billy McCarty, who was killed in some God-awful place like An Ky or something like that. And then he started getting scared, really scared. If they can kill a guy like Billy McCarty then he surmised he sure as hell didn’t stand a chance. Then it hit him: “I know what I’ll do, I’ll join the band.” There ain’t no bands in Viet Nam. I can do my patriotic duty and at the same time keep my butt from being blown to smithereens!” The old “have my cake and eat it too.” So off to the local Army recruiter he went with what he considered the “deal of a lifetime.” For the Army that was. Surely everyone knew the notoriety and fame he gained with his baton. That appearance on Ed Sullivan was finally going to pay off. “Looka-here, Mr. Army recruitment guy, I’m willing to go into your silly Army if you let me in the band.” He said, Sure thing, just sign this here paper for four-years and we’ll see what we can do to get you in the band.” The recruiter said. “No, no… no… you don’t understand. I’m Eddie Reese. I’m the Drum Major? Ed Sullivan? The Macys parade? New York? Chicago? I’m big and important and, jeesh, everybody wants me to be in their drum corps. So why don’t you just let me be in your band for two years and we’ll call it even.” The recruiter looked Eddie in the eyes and said, “Are you a fortunate son?” Eddie felt his cheeks get hot as he said, “No”. Do you have any influence whatsoever?” the recruiter asked. Again Eddie said, “No.” “Then what the hell makes you think that you are in any position to bargain with the United States Army? We got your narrow ass for two years already. And you know damn well where you’re going to spend at least one, and if you don’t make it, some part of a year.” Well, let’s talk about that old heart-in-the-throat feeling. His heart was so far up my throat he was having a hard time breathing. As Eddie schlepped out the Recruiters office the cold-hard reality of the situation was sinking in. He wasn’t in any position to negotiate, he was going in the Army, he was going to Viet Nam and he was going… to… come…. Home…. in… a… body bag. At that moment he realized he was beyond screwed. Finding solace in the bottle in the past, he went to his local hometown gin mill, the Manhattan. Abe Carma, the owner/bartender, was a WWII vet. He had seen action in the South Pacific with the Marine Corps. Eddie respected and liked Abe. But more important, Old Abe liked Eddie. He was much older than Eddie was, but he treated him with respect. So there 17 year old Eddie is talking the situation over with the seasoned veteran while drinking a 15-cent Piels draft beer. So Abe tells Ed, “Why don’t you join another branch of the service? They all have bands, and I’m sure there has to be one that wants you. Hell, you’re Eddie Reese, you’re the drum major.” Eddie smiled. Now he knew why he liked old Abe. Abe saw Eddie for what he was. Someone different, someone who could write his own ticket. “By God, Abe, I think you got something there.” Eddie said as he stood up and headed for the door, more determined than ever to rise above the situation. So off to the Navy recruiter Eddie goes. They don’t have any Navy guys in Viet Nam. Of course, those uniforms are real stupid looking, especially those hats, but whatever it takes to keep him out of the jungle. Hell, he’d wear two of the stupid things, tights, and a ballerina outfit if he had to. The Navy recruiter wasn’t as vulgar as the Army recruiter had been but in essence he said the very same thing. Four years or nothing and forget about the band. “I know, the Air Force. Yeah, the Air Force.” Eddie figured he had a legacy with the Air Force with two brothers having served in that fine branch of the military. That recruiter wasn’t vulgar. He didn’t have to be. He just thought Eddies proposition was funny, actually he thought it was very funny. Ed’s last chance was the Marine Corps. Abe’s and Sonny D’Angelico’s branch of the service. All of these guys were hometown heroes. They’d be proud of him if he could get into the Marine Corps Band. So off to the recruiter he went. Surprisingly the Marine recruiter wasn’t vulgar at all. As a matter of fact, he was downright nice. And, he was willing to negotiate. He said to Eddie, “Look, I know who you are, I saw you on Ed Sullivan! Man, the things you can do with that baton…listen…you sign-up for three years and I’ll get you in the band.” Then he did the math with Eddie. “By the time you get done with boot camp and then learning all the Marine Corps way of doing things and stuff, band school and, finally an assignment to a band or, better yet, a drum corps. Your hitch will be just about over. So your chances of going to Viet Nam are nil to none…and I’d consider it an honor Eddie if I could have your autograph!” With a deal like that, who could say no? Eddie signed-up right their on the spot and actually thanked him. Eddie was going in the Marine Corps but, better yet, he was gonna’ be in the band…the finest band on the face of the earth…the Marine Corp marching band! That’s where our story begins… |
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