Devil Doc
When Death smiles, Corpsmen smile back
- Joined
- Oct 16, 2005
- Messages
- 11,594
I've posted this every Memorial Day since I've been here. I trust it hasn't gotten old for some of you fellas.
Before 1971, Memorial day was not the holiday we celebrate today. It was not a three day weekend. It was not the beginning of the picnic season, nor was it start of the tourist season. It was a time to commemorate our war dead. I’d like to share with you all what Memorial day was like for a boy growing up in rural Vermont in the 50’s and 60’s
My grandmother was a Gold Star Mother, so our preparations started about 2 weeks before the 30th . My Uncle, 1st Recon battalion, 1st Cav. was killed at Kasserine Pass, North Africa in 1942. My Dad was with the 1st Infantry Div., 32nd field Artillery. He fought from the first day to the last, three invasions and seven campaigns, starting in N. Africa and ending up in Pilsen, Czechoslovakia. How he survived, I’ll never understand. My grandfather was a WWI vet, who left the safety of the US in 1914 to serve in the Italian army. Anyway , we started our annual obligation by having the florist prepare two large urns with geraniums. Later we would haul them to the cemetery, place them on either side of my uncle’s grave stone, and finally plant a new Flag provided by the VFW.
I was also busy. I was a member of the VFW cadet corps drill team, and we practiced nearly every night the silent drill that we would perform in front of the reviewing stand at our annual Memorial day parade. We spent what other free time we had selling Buddy Poppies made by disabled Vets. I enjoyed this activity. It allowed us kids the opportunity to meet all the Veterans in town and listen to their war stories. We also would spend the Saturday before the holiday planting flags on those veterans graves who no longer had family in town.
Finally, the day would arrive. We would form at the northern end of Main St., every one nervous that they would fall out of step, or worse, drop their rifle in front of the reviewing stand. We had an old retired WWI Marine Gunnery Sgt. as our instructor and he would always make sure we were formed in front of the National Guard band , so we could hear the bass drum, and stay in step.
At 10am sharp the parade would begin. We would march down the length of Main St. under the century maples, planted in 1876 to commemorate the 100th birthday of the US. When we reached the reviewing stand, populated with various distinguished personages we performed our 15 minutes of silent drill, usually without a hitch, and then proceed to the court house park, where the monuments for the Civil War, WWI, WWII and Korea were. Here wreaths of red, white and blues carnations were laid with much pomp and circumstance, while we stood at attention, often in the heat of the noon day sun. Gunny Flint had trained us well, and not ever did a boy faint in formation. He had taught us to wiggle our toes and rock back and forth from heal to toe, imperceptibly, to keep the blood flowing and keep us from hitting the pavement. Earlier that morning a contingent of Navy , Coast Guard, and Merchant Marine vets placed wreaths in the Passumsic river for those lost or buried at sea.
After about an hour of speeches, all while standing at parade rest, the parade would leave the park, wind down Eastern Ave., up Maple St. and end, much to our relief, at the American Legion Post where the drinking , eating , horseshoe pitching and softball games would entertain us for the rest of the day.
Doc.
Before 1971, Memorial day was not the holiday we celebrate today. It was not a three day weekend. It was not the beginning of the picnic season, nor was it start of the tourist season. It was a time to commemorate our war dead. I’d like to share with you all what Memorial day was like for a boy growing up in rural Vermont in the 50’s and 60’s
My grandmother was a Gold Star Mother, so our preparations started about 2 weeks before the 30th . My Uncle, 1st Recon battalion, 1st Cav. was killed at Kasserine Pass, North Africa in 1942. My Dad was with the 1st Infantry Div., 32nd field Artillery. He fought from the first day to the last, three invasions and seven campaigns, starting in N. Africa and ending up in Pilsen, Czechoslovakia. How he survived, I’ll never understand. My grandfather was a WWI vet, who left the safety of the US in 1914 to serve in the Italian army. Anyway , we started our annual obligation by having the florist prepare two large urns with geraniums. Later we would haul them to the cemetery, place them on either side of my uncle’s grave stone, and finally plant a new Flag provided by the VFW.
I was also busy. I was a member of the VFW cadet corps drill team, and we practiced nearly every night the silent drill that we would perform in front of the reviewing stand at our annual Memorial day parade. We spent what other free time we had selling Buddy Poppies made by disabled Vets. I enjoyed this activity. It allowed us kids the opportunity to meet all the Veterans in town and listen to their war stories. We also would spend the Saturday before the holiday planting flags on those veterans graves who no longer had family in town.
Finally, the day would arrive. We would form at the northern end of Main St., every one nervous that they would fall out of step, or worse, drop their rifle in front of the reviewing stand. We had an old retired WWI Marine Gunnery Sgt. as our instructor and he would always make sure we were formed in front of the National Guard band , so we could hear the bass drum, and stay in step.
At 10am sharp the parade would begin. We would march down the length of Main St. under the century maples, planted in 1876 to commemorate the 100th birthday of the US. When we reached the reviewing stand, populated with various distinguished personages we performed our 15 minutes of silent drill, usually without a hitch, and then proceed to the court house park, where the monuments for the Civil War, WWI, WWII and Korea were. Here wreaths of red, white and blues carnations were laid with much pomp and circumstance, while we stood at attention, often in the heat of the noon day sun. Gunny Flint had trained us well, and not ever did a boy faint in formation. He had taught us to wiggle our toes and rock back and forth from heal to toe, imperceptibly, to keep the blood flowing and keep us from hitting the pavement. Earlier that morning a contingent of Navy , Coast Guard, and Merchant Marine vets placed wreaths in the Passumsic river for those lost or buried at sea.
After about an hour of speeches, all while standing at parade rest, the parade would leave the park, wind down Eastern Ave., up Maple St. and end, much to our relief, at the American Legion Post where the drinking , eating , horseshoe pitching and softball games would entertain us for the rest of the day.
Doc.
