There Was No Music

The author was born six days before the Japanese attack on Pearl harbor which precipitated America’s entry into World War II. His perception of war evolves from recollections of the mythic status attributed to the soldiers and sailors who returned from that conflict. His view of personal relationships is influenced by romantically naïve TV sitcoms prevalent in the 1950’s.

The author’s reality stands in stark contrast to those perceptions. His war experience is Vietnam, a conflict universally condemned, and the combatants disparaged. His personal relationships are beset with a string of failed marriages starting with his parent’s divorce when he is three years old.

The author considers the dilemma of reconciling fact as he details his combat tour in Vietnam, and, in a parallel story, reconciling fancy through the throes of a personal relationship.

The story unfolds in varied locations: Vietnam’s Mekong Delta; Lake Tahoe; the beach towns of Southern California; the ski slopes of Aspen, Colorado; the polo fields surrounding Middleburg, Virginia and Washington DC.

This narrative is the portrait of a life as seen through this prism of real and surreal recollections, reflecting times wondrously exhilarating, often comic, sometimes sad and occasionally terrifyingly traumatic.

The author was a combat naval Aviator and a member of the initial contingent of pilots who were the genesis of Helicopter Attack (Light) Squadron Three or HA(L)-3, the most decorated combat squadron in the Vietnam War. During his tour with the squadron the author logged over 800 hours of combat flight time. His combat decorations include the Purple Heart, Thirty-eight Air Medals and the Distinguished Flying Cross.

The history of the HA(L)-3 and the author’s association with the squadron has been documented in “Fire From the Sky” by Richard Knott. The author also appears in a 1967 US Navy documentary entitled “River Patrol” featuring clips of combat operations in the Mekong Delta. HA(L)-3 is also the subject of a PBS Documentary which aired in September of 2018.

The title, “There Was no Music” derives from the author’s reaction to his first combat experience:

“The pilot had already swung the aircraft around and was starting another slow arcing turn to line up behind the targets. The targets, three diminutive figures clad in the standard wardrobe of what appeared to be, and would always be referred to as, black pajamas, were beginning to move. They were heading for a dike line, the crisscross of barriers that kept the rice paddies flooded. I simply reacted. I sighted the guns. I pulled the trigger on the flight control stick. The guns emitted a coughing sound, not readily described but forever remembered. Every fifth bullet was a tracer, easily followed as they gracefully arced toward the earth below. I saw the fountain-like spray as the bullets impacted the water, delicate little patterns on the surface. They casually approached the now frantically moving figures. And then the figures were propelled forward, onto the dike. I continued to fire. The water ballet continued around the figures, which bounced around like crazed puppets.

In the movies, there always seems to be music punctuating the death scene, an accompaniment to enhance the solemnity of the event. Life is precious, and death never to be taken casually.

I released the trigger. The water ballet, the death dance, everything, stopped. Three black-clad figures lay motionless atop the dike line.

There was no music.”