Harmony in Hell
At this time of the year with its overwhelming religious references, I am reminded of an event that occurred in 1952, one of the “buried” stories that the old memory seems to be churning up recently (is the old bod telling me something?). It confirmed for me, in spite of any secular leanings I personally might have, that we were and are essentially a nation of religious convictions.
We had been on the line at the Punchbowl in Korea for quite a few months. Constantly under artillery shelling day after day, month after month with sporadic attacks by Chinese and North Korean troops trying to gain new territory prior to an armistice, our unit had a significant number of casualties. Imagine the relief we felt when word came that our regiment was going to be relieved.
The day arrived, and having indoctrinated our replacements, we gathered our weapons and meager possessions and joyfully left that position. At a gathering point well behind the lines, we were placed on trucks and driven for an hour or so to what appeared to be a city of tents. As far as the eye could see, khaki colored canvas neatly lined well-policed, dirt streets.
We were assigned to a tent, and wearily spread ourselves out on the first available bunk. What luxury that was. To top it off we were issued clean clothes, directed to hot showers (my first in 2-months), and served what seemed to me then one of the finest meals I have ever had, hot (and I emphasize that word for I had not had a cooked meal for some time), breaded, fried Spam with baked beans, cornbread and real, steaming coffee. This was Heaven.
Left alone that first day with no duty assignments, I wandered through the maze of tent streets, noisily crowded with celebrating soldiers. Strangers greeted and hugged each other as if they were family. Reflected in the boisterous laughter and bantering, there was an air of joy and humor and thankfulness for just being alive and there. As I leisurely walked, I thought I heard music and songs being sung, and soon became aware that I was hearing group harmony from all directions.
Numerous, small groups of men from every unit and all denominations – white, black and mixed – with common, traditional hymnal experience had joined in gleeful harmony singing their favorite hymns. Most of them had never met before, but they seemed to have had a common religious experience and background. I heard tuneful, Christian melodies that I had not heard before. They sang as if they had been singing together for years. I actually heard a group asking each other if they knew that song or that hymn, and within 10 minutes they were blending in beautiful harmony.
Every group sang with an almost zealous fervor. The glowing eyes of each expressed sheer happiness and comfort and inner peace as they sang their old favorites. Others played guitars and banjos with surprising skill, and there was one particular private who played a harmonica as well I thought that night as Larry Adler. There were other songs being sung, but they were old country tunes that did not seem to produce the same passion (though I do remember something called “My Buckets Got a Hole in It”).
I have to confess that probably intensifying my sensitivity and emotion were several jolts of a 5th of Johnny Walker Black that I had swapped for 3 packs of Camels. Feeling pretty good, anything that anybody played would have been appreciated. That said, however, what I remember most is the intense passion of each of those singers. All seemed to express a profound and moving love and devotion to their God as they joyfully sang his praises.
That religiosity, that devotion so embedded, so important in the lives of those good men is as prevalent in a significant segment of our society today as it was then, and as it has been since the founding of the country. Religion and religious practice has always played a significant role in the lives of Americans. There was a time, however, when most of us carried our individual religious beliefs silently and personally. Those days seem gone for now.
Arnie Silverman
Laguna Niguel
This is very moving and was a
wonderful piece to read.