Memorial Day Musings

Another Memorial Day has come and gone. And for the first time in a long time, I wasn’t called on to make a speech or be part of a ceremony at some cemetery or memorial site. It was a surprisingly pleasant, private time, some of which I spent contemplating my own military service and remembering friends who didn’t make it home from our stints in Vietnam or Beirut.

Minus pressure to perform I was able to ponder a lot of unique individuals. There was time to recall their peculiarities and quirks, the stuff that made them so memorable for the relatively brief time we had together in some dicey situations. Most of the time I found myself smiling, even chucking at memories of the dark humor we shared that kept us going in the toughest predicaments. I like to think that’s the way they would have wanted to be remembered.

It’s certainly a big part of why I write books and make movies that I hope shine some richly deserved and long-overdue positive light on folks like those I was remembering this Memorial Day. Even the ugly stuff has value if it shows audiences the selfless nature of military service and dispels misconceptions about flag-waving and martial glory in combat.

That led me to the TV where I could review some of that work. As is often the case around this time of year, several stations and streamers were marking Memorial Day with a marathon of war- or military-themed shows. Watching Saving Private Ryan and its stunning depiction of Omaha Beach on D-Day in 1944 marks it as one of the most impactful films I ever helped make. It was a privilege to train the actors, stage the action, and help Steven Spielberg bring it to audiences worldwide. SPR had an impact that went far beyond the story that was revealed in its nearly three-hour running time.

As did Band of Brothers, the mini-series that I worked on so diligently for nearly a year on locations in UK and elsewhere in Europe. We managed to capture lightning in a bottle with that one. It lives on as a WWII classic with a huge following of fans all over the world. The series will likely still be around, enjoyed, discussed, and dissected long after those of us who made it are gone. And I’ll humbly submit here that my portrayal of Col. Robert F. Sink, CO of the 506^th Parachute Infantry Regiment, wasn’t half bad.

By the end of a marathon session with those two projects remembered and reabsorbed, I was feeling pretty much like I had made a difference in celebrating some heroes that needed remembering on Memorial Day and at all other times. Then the TV parade marched on to Korea, and I saw a couple of films that I wish I could have helped produce. It would have been a distinct honor to help with The Bridges at Toko Ri and Steel Helmet.

Based on a terrific novel by James Michener, Big Navy helped Director Mark Robson play it straight and extremely realistic with the first rerun of a classic movie, so there wouldn’t have been much call for a guy like me in telling the under-appreciated story of Naval Aviation in the Korean War. And I wouldn’t have had much personal experience to recommend me as an advisor except maybe for the big bar fight in Yokosuka.

This film is a gem that explores courage in the common man, motivation, leadership, and combat stress before it became a commonly accepted thing. William Holden, as a reluctant reserve pilot recalled to active duty to fly F9F Panther jets from a carrier off the Korean coast, is the classic American everyman who conquers combat jitters to become a hero. I served with a lot of guys like that and remembered them well watching The Bridges at Toko Ri.

In 1951 while combat was raging in Korea, Director Sam Fuller cobbled together a little money (just over $100,000) to produce Steel Helmet. I’ve always considered this little film to be a classic as it was written and directed by Fuller who brought his own combat experience with the 1^st Infantry Division during WWII to the story. There are some groaner technical gaffes in the chump change production, and I like to think I might have helped with that, but there’s so much familiar military meat to the story that I tend to overlook stuff that would have sent me into a towering snit later in my career.

All that’s easy to forgive when Fuller explores the characters in real-world military dialogue. Gene Evans gives a tour de force performance as Sergeant Zack, a grizzled WWII vet who reveals his background in conversations with Harold Russell, a black medic, who fought the earlier war in segregated outfits and with Richard Loo, who came to Korea with combat experience in the Nisei 442^nd Regimental Combat Team. These guys are kindred spirits and the sort of quirky characters I remembered from my own service.

Before I reluctantly had to call it quits on my Memorial Day movie marathon, I watched The Best Years of Our Lives, another classic that hits some current nails on the head with its exploration of readjustment from wartime service to civilian life. Familiar problems experienced by Vietnam veterans and our newest generation of GWOT survivors are all there in Director William Wyler’s 1946 film. With a simple switch of uniforms and adjustment to some period dialogue, you have massive insights into PTS. You can leave off the D for my money as it’s an affliction rather than a disorder but that’s picking unnecessary nits.

I’m always particularly moved by the Navy vet portrayed by double-amputee Harold Russell, who lost his hands in a demolition mishap while training with the 13^th Airborne Division prior to shipping overseas. Despite being an untrained actor, Russell won—and richly deserved—an Oscar for his supporting role in this film. That character always reminds me of a Marine I knew well who lost most of both arms while trying to disable a boobytrap in Vietnam. He’s gone now but I can’t forget the courage he displayed and the humor he found in his prosthetics which he claimed gave him an automatic pass for pinching pretty girls on the butt.

Somehow watching these fine films and several others made my Memorial Day weekend full of joy and fond memories rather than a time of maudlin introspection. For hours, sitting there in a comfortable recliner, I felt like all the friends I’d lost in military service over the years and around the world were there with me. That made for a pretty enjoyable time. I might just invite them back to sit with me next year.

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