By Joe Berk
It was 50 years ago that I joined the U.S. Army. I went to college on an ROTC scholarship and graduated with a Regular Army commission, the same as the people who graduate from West Point. Three days before graduation, the Army told me my first duty assignment would be staying at Rutgers and getting a master’s degree, all courtesy of Uncle Sugar. Guys I went to high school with were going to Vietnam; the Army sent me to grad school. It didn’t feel right, but it was what it was.
The ROTC scholarship was a sweet ride; grad school was an even better deal. Uncle Sam picked up the entire tab, paid me a housing allowance, and I drew my full pay as a second lieutenant. As I recall, it was something like $436 per month. I couldn’t believe how sweet life was and how I was rolling in dough (grad school was actually easier than undergraduate school). Three of the guys I went to high school with were killed in Vietnam. Several more served over there.
Memorial Day has always been a special day for me, and not just because of what I wrote about above or my time in the Army. I think about the guys I knew and I remember them. You don’t have to have served to do that; all of us should take the day, enjoy it, and think about the people this special day honors: Those who were killed in action fighting America’s wars.
Enjoy the day, my friends.
Thanks, Joe, for your service to our country. Warm regards, Jeff.
It was my pleasure, Jeff.
Thank you, Joe.
You lucked out. For those whom luck ran out, RIP.
Party hearty !
But always remember those that gave all.
I should have had more faith in your blogging.
Will do. And thank you.
I cannot imagine how you felt during that period nor afterwards. The civil upheaval and society changes. Looking at what could have been. Its great to honor those of the fallen. It’s never enough but nothing ever can be.
Agreed, Steve.
Thanks Joe. Taking some time for our fallen heros today. AATW
You bet.
I was recently back up bidder on a 2012 Sportster with only 27 miles on it.
The bike had been in storage 10 years. The auctioneer later told me the story behind the bike.
Parents of a young military man bought the bike as a gift – the young man never came home.
The mom rode the bike the few miles in honor of her son. Then decided to sell the bike ten years later.
Do hope the story stayed with the bike.
Memories of the Vietnam muscle cars whose owners never returned.
I will never forget that auction bike.
Awesome story. Thanks for commenting, David.
Great story, Joe. Reverent and touching. You were very lucky. Isn’t that your photo in among the other guys? Or I am wrong?
Yep. I am Charlie 34.