Story 24: The Songs That Take Us Back (Essay)
A Soldier, a Radio, and the Stars
Author
Name: David Golwitzer
Place of Residence: Sarasota, Florida
Primary Sources: Personal experiences
Subject
Title: The Songs That Take Us Back
Subtitle: A Soldier, a Radio, and the Stars
Name of Subject at Birth: David Golwitzer
Birth Date: May 3, 1945
Birthplace: Flint, Michigan
Spouse(s): Nancy
Other Key Locations: Sarasota, Florida; Vietnam
Most admirable qualities: Hard work, Resilience, Generosity
In this Star Hitchers story, the author looks back from his balcony over the Florida Gulf, noting the stars and listening to music. He remembers his time as a solder in Vietnam. Submit your story at StarHitchers.com.
Author: After stopping for a break while on an operation, I was photographed by an Army photographer for the Division Newspaper. I was reading and sharing a copy of the last edition with some local kids. The photo is unattributed because the Army would never personally identify any soldier or Unit.
(David Golwitzer, Vietnam 1968-1969, Infantryman, Sergeant E5, Company B, 6th Battalion, 31st Infantry, 9Th Infantry Division)
The Story
Sitting on my balcony one warm night, I was enjoying a time of reflection. Void of lights, the Gulf waters opened the sky for a display of stars.
My Alexa was playing a continuous parade of country western songs—Emmylou Harris, Alison Krauss. Technology is so incredible. I name my favorite genre and out of billions of songs come exactly what I want.
I am always surprised by the thoughts that surface when I am not thinking about anything in particular. One of the songs that night must have sent me back to another night in another place.
It was midnight on New Year’s Eve,1969, a warm, dark night. The location was remote. No city lights to block the brilliance of the uncountable stars. It was so spectacular, I vividly remember it today.
I placed my helmet down that night, dead center in the middle of the road, to use as a pillow. I lay down and stretched lengthwise on my back with my rifle across my chest. The asphalt highway was still warm and had not seen any traffic since dark. The highway was the main road through the Mekong Delta in Vietnam. I was not concerned about being run over because we were there as part of a military patrol protecting that stretch of highway from a Viet Cong insurgency. Travel after dark was impossible.
It had been a long, active, physical day and I was very tired. But we still had work to do. I could not sleep yet. We were on a multi-day search and destroy mission, and I had walked five miles through rice paddies in hot, wet conditions. I was twenty-four years old and in good physical shape, but the day had still fatigued me.
I was taking a break that night, and my tiny transistor radio was tuned to the only station I could get compliments of Armed Forces radio. Yes, the movie “Good Morning Vietnam” got that part of the story right. Fortunately, it was playing the top songs of the year.
The Number 1 song on the U.S. Billboard Hot 100 on that New Years Eve was “Someday We’ll Be Together” by Diana Ross and the Supremes. The song held a special meaning for me. Just before graduation from the University of Michigan and prior to being drafted, I broke up with my girlfriend of five years. She made the ultimate decision for me later. By the time I made it back home, she had moved on.
My tiny transistor radio was a distant ancestor to my Alexa. It was a remote cousin to the thirty-pound military radio I carried in my gear. I was the radioman for the platoon leader. A radioman was assigned to each platoon leader and the company commander. We were the communication lifeline of the company.
The rest of the company had shared the same experiences as I that day, and they too were getting a short break. There were about forty guys in our platoon. We were spread out over a large area, each doing our own thing or quietly talking. Some of us were catching a nap. We would be back at it in a couple of hours.
Unlike most of the guys in the company, I had arrived at Dong Tam, as a replacement drafted from Flint, Michigan. They had been part of a unit that had come as a group from Fort Lewis, Washington. They had been “in country” for ten months. Many had been old friends for years. They were “Short.” Everyone used that term to say they had almost completed their one-year obligation, and they were going home. There was a lot of discussion among them about getting out and going home.
Gary and I had been through Basic Training and Advanced Infantry Training together and arrived at Bravo (“B”) Company eight months later as replacements. He was a college graduate from a New England school. Gary and I were about the same height, well under six feet.
While we were standing outside Company HQ, a soldier walked up to Gary and handed him an M60 machine gun. He said, “You just inherited this gun.” The gun was very heavy, especially considering the extra bandoliers of ammunition. In fact, most everyone in the platoon carried at least one bandolier of ammunition for the M60 gunner. Gary shouldered the extra weight like it was nothing.
Just after Gary became the gunner, another soldier handed me the PRC25 radio that became my companion for four months. Gary and I were given new roles. I tracked Gary down decades after Vietnam, and he was well, having spent a career in the court system.
One of my best friends was the radioman for the company commander. Elke was Swedish. He enlisted as a way to earn U.S. citizenship. I lost track of him after my tour ended. I am sure he is now an American.
These guys were my family. I spent every moment with them, day and night. The shared intensity of the dangers inherent in war created friendships out of soldiers with nothing else in common. In a normal environment, we would never have met. In that environment, we were each other’s lifeline. We relied on each other to help make it through the nights and days until that one-year tour of duty was complete.
Vietnam was not always war. There were many amusing times. My Jiffy Pop adventure was one of them.
I was a big fan of Jiffy Pop popcorn. I sent a letter to Jiffy Pop popcorn company requesting to buy a case of popcorn. About three weeks later, I received a letter from them indicating they did not have an export license to sell popcorn in Vietnam. However, they did gift me a case of Jiffy Pop popcorn.
We had no stove in the field, so what could I do with all that popcorn? C-4 is an explosive that would not explode without a detonator but would burn intensely hot. More than 1,000 degrees, in fact. We used it to heat up C-rations. I broke off a little piece of C-4 from time to time and set it on fire to pop my popcorn out in the field. The smell of popcorn brought five or ten guys around to grab a handful. It reminded them of home.
It is interesting what we remember but never discuss. So many memories. Too many to relate here and most are still too personal to discuss.
One memory I have shared, to the amusement of my audience. I never had a uniform to call my own. I would start the week by picking a uniform from a large stack of clean but well-used uniforms. I then wore it continuously for six days no matter what. During all kinds of operations, I never took it off.
At the end of our operation, we got back to our base camp, stripped naked, took a long shower, picked up a replacement uniform and began again.
I occasionally think back on that time. Sometimes the memories are prompted by a song. The time in Vietnam was like no other time in my life.
As the clouds moved in across the Gulf and the stars started to disappear, my thoughts came back to the present. My wife joined me on the balcony. We began our own music fifty-three years ago. The songs keep playing. The stars keep shining. We enjoy this quiet time together.
Threads to Follow
What song has the power to take you instantly back to another time and place?
Have you ever been surprised by a memory that surfaced when you weren't consciously thinking about the past? What brought it back?
Why do difficult or unusual experiences sometimes create friendships that last a lifetime?
Have you ever belonged to a group of people who became like family simply because of what you experienced together?
What ordinary object, smell, sound, or taste can still transport you back to your younger years?
What memories from your younger years have become more meaningful as you've grown older?