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ALL BLOOD IS RED:
I was a young Captain at Fort Bragg, N.C. seeking to carve out a ministry in
the military. It was 1967; Vietnam had heated up; casualties were mounting;
and I was assigned to a notification team to inform families that their sons had
been killed fighting for their country in the line of duty in Vietnam.
Fayetteville, NC, where Fort Bragg is located, is probably the most patriotic
city in America and proud of their history. Fayetteville has a wonderfully modern
museum, dedicated to honoring the history of the military. Fort Bragg itself
is the Home of the Airborne, Special Forces (Green Berets) and at least two or
three museums.
Fort Bragg is a sprawling post. At any one time, (before Iraq or any war), if
you want to smell the soldiers, all you have to do is ride on Post. (The Army
has posts, the Navy and Air Force and Marines have bases). At any given moment,
there are dozens of troopers running in formation, riding in vehicles, and
training in the open space.
The 82d Airborne Division located on Fort Bragg is not totally unlike a
college campus. When soldiers are not on duty, they can be seen in high school
letter jackets, looking like a bunch of kids just coming from class. At night, it
reminds me of fraternity row on my old college campus. Domino Pizza trucks
can be seen at any hour-two o’clock in the morning or later is more the rule than
the exception. It is a beehive of activity. America’s young men and
women ready to go to war at the drop of a hat. I was part of this and
proud.
One day I got the assignment to do the funeral for a Sergeant First
Class who had been killed in Vietnam. We had a firing squad of six
members, and an honor guard of another six, plus a Staff Sergeant who
was in charge.
We were going to Camden, SC to do the funeral and traveled
in an Army vehicle and two vans. We made the sixty or so odd
miles to Camden and did the funeral—very sad but somewhat stoic as I
remember. They were a military family steeped in tradition. And, from
what I could tell, the family always lived with the idea that this career
NCO could forfeit his life in war.
When we departed, it was close to dinner, (supper, as it is called in
the South), 6:00 PM. I suggested that once we got out of town, we
should find us a place for chow. The Sergeant of the Guard was hesitant.
But, I said “Let’s do it.” We stopped at a nice truck stop on the edge of
town. As we walked in, suddenly, it seemed as quiet as death.
We were proud soldiers, dressed to the “nines”- bloused, boots, badges and
patches and looking good. As I sat down, a waitress came up to me and said, rather
loudly and forcefully, “We don’t serve niggers.” All of us got up and left immediately.
Up until that time, I had not even thought of anything relating to race. We
had in our group blacks, Hispanics, and at least one Native American. Most of
us were white guys.
This is America! It simply never dawned on me that here it
was 1967; the Supreme Court decision integrating the schools happened in
1954. Martin Luther King, made his famous speech in 1963, and the civil rights
bill had been passed the year before we arrived at the truck stop. And, here
American soldiers doing their duty, not even allowed to eat because of the color
of their skin?
This single event changed my life forever in terms of how I saw
race relations and the actions I took to counter racism whenever I faced it.
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| The "A Million Little Pieces Controversy" by Dan Foster(Does It Matter?)
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When I was a young preacher, I was always fascinated with the fact that most TV preachers and many of my fellow pastors always had lived these horrid lives before finding God and joining the ministry.
They were drunkards, beat their wives, neglected their children, and then they saw the "light." They were converted and they had stories to tell. From the wretchedness of sin to the pulpit. I was rendered speechless often, mainly because I didn't have any of those tales. How could I ever be a successful minister? My Mom and Dad were great. We were farmers and worked hard; and, as far as I knew, everybody supported everybody else. However, as a young minister, I thought one must be in the dregs of the mud and mire to be lifted out to pursue righteousness. It is the only way!
So, I was not surprised with all the flabbergasted sighs about James Frey and his terrific memoir, A Million Little Pieces. The book appears to be somewhat, if not downright, exaggerated. I can never say "I told you so" but I was suspect. Pat, pat, pat. Does this fact, if true, that Frey embellished his story somewhat, render the book any less readable? (Me thinks Frey protests too loudly, but afterall, Random House now wants to give people their money back, if they feel duped.) In my opinion, the story is slightly tainted, but still a good story.
Frey's book held me and I read almost every word,which for an ADD (attention deficit disorder) type, a big, Wow! Reading a book with no paragraphs, no punctuation, and capitalized words-which are not supposed to be-was a challenge; but, for this book, it works. One gets the feel that it is kind of like a journal. I could not put it down-spellbinding in a sense! And, I think, the book gave a rare look into rehab portraying addicts at their worst: the way addicts are-the way they talk, and how they think. Frey has described rehab to a "T."
When he did his self-assessment (one of the twelve steps of AA); however, I found it slightly hard to believe. If so, he was a young sociopath; I can hardly accept what he did to people as a youngster and got away with it. I have read enough about the drug culture (the hard scrabble life) and have had enough experiences counseling addicts to know that it would be almost impossible to get away with all the stuff he listed.This is where I get a little "put off" by the exaggeration.
If Frey's story about his run-ins with the law were true, he would have been in jail early on, killed or something. Maybe there is a slight kernel of truth here enhanced to make a good story, but it was not necessary, no need to do it.
But, we don't have to believe that Frey is bad news to believe the "rehab" experience. There's a slight bit of exaggeration in all our writing I think;
and, if there is self-loathing, sometimes there's a tendency to make ourselves as bad as we can be.
Overall, the book
is a good read; but, if I had been Frey, I would have put in a disclaimer. Something like, "These events and happenings are relatively true. Five people having the same experience will all see it differently. " But what happened in rehab happened(assuming that it is true), and I hope it sheds light on what rehab is."
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 Now Available: Newly revised paperback General Lee:Father of the Airborne. Order from Amazon.
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