I dig rock'n'roll bayonet training

On the road to Little Rock last week and I popped in a CD British invasion type, called Mod Rock or something, somebody word-playing or maybe didn’t know those are separate beings, as in the John Lennon pseudo interview in Help, winsome reporterish girl asking, “Are you a Mod or a Rocker?” and Lennon replying, “I’m a mocker.”

The songs were pretty good, 1963-67, of the best of times/worst of times decade. Some had it worse than others – Vietnam in person vs. Vietnam in protest, VC guerrillas or DC cops; sucking some PX beer on small times off with guys your age who, like you, wear jungle fatigues or sucking MJ smoke with a cute thing wearing a mini-skirt or tight jeans, after a hard day of sign-carrying in the continuing struggle against baby killers and other Enemies of The People; going out into the heat every day, busting jungle, watching for people who want to kill you or going to class every day and saying that if we just talked about things we would fix all the shit that’s wrong with the world and getting good smiles from cute things in mini-skirts or tight jeans. Yeah, at times the world sucks.

The CD has a sing-along quality, if you are of an age and still remember all the words. A couple of the songs I specifically remembered because of place and time – Bus Stop heard at Fort Meade in summer 1966, Sunday afternoon riding around that part of Maryland with Gene Johnson and we did our best at ridding the world of a six-pack of whatever beer we had bought at a liquor store in Boomtown; and Sunshine Superman, played on a Vietnamese radio station in December 1966 and the DJ was a sweet-sounding young woman who dedicated all songs to brave allies saving the Vietnamese people from godless Communists. It was to chuckle at, but not to disparage through laughter.

Singing along with some of the songs became remembering other things, related things if you’ve been there.

“There are two kinds of bayonet fighters! The quick and the dead!”

Vertical butt stroke, horizontal butt stroke. Short thrust and recover, MOVE! Long thrust and hold, MOVE!

And you have to yell while butt stroking or thrusting – “YAHH!” or something. If you have to stick somebody with a bayonet at the end of a rifle, chances are you won’t do it silently. And, yelling produces more impetus.

Here’s the deal: You have to BELIEVE in what you are doing. You have to BELIEVE that your bayonet is all that stands between you and death. The quick and the dead, Soldier! The quick and the dead. You have to BELIEVE!

Hand-to-hand combat, you’re squared off against a friend. You learn the fighting position, hand movements, foot and leg movements. Kick, strike, throw, take the enemy’s leverage and use it against him. You’ll throw some and your friend will throw some and you’ll both look like you know what you’re doing. And you yell a lot.

The end.