In light of the recent 4th of July mass shooting in Highland Park, Illinois, I’ve been rethinking Stephen Stills classic song, ‘Find the Cost of Freedom’.
“Find the cost of freedom buried in the ground Mother earth will swallow you lay your body down
Find the cost of freedom buried in the ground Mother earth will swallow you lay your body down”
Written at the height of the Vietnam War, it was released as the B side to ‘Ohio’ which was a direct condemnation of Kent State. ‘Find the Cost of Freedom’ was less explicit. There have been multiple suggestions as to the meaning of the song, including the student deaths at Kent State, the death of our soldiers in Vietnam, or even the cost of war to us as a people. Although simply written, with fewer words, it’s a more complicated song.
CSNY Performing ‘Find the Cost of Freedom’, Back in the Day
The song was rereleased in 1982 as ‘Daylight Again/Find the Cost Of Freedom’, with seeming references to the Civil War. The line “When everyone’s talkin’ and no one is listenin’, how can we decide?” is added right before the famous refrain and it then becomes:
“When everyone's talkin’ and no one is listenin’, How can we decide (Do we) find the cost of freedom Buried in the ground Mother Earth will swallow you Lay your body down”
To me, this version seems a perfect summation of the entire gun violence issue. No one listens to anyone on the other side. The result? We see the cost of freedom, and the results of the Second Amendment, dead and buried in the ground. People are going to die, and that is just the price we need to pay for the freedom to own guns. Any kind of guns. All guns. Just lay your body down and accept it.
We here in ‘Murica have deemed that acceptable to protect our Second Amendment freedom. Everyone has the freedom to own their guns, even if it’s at the expense of other people, who just want to celebrate their freedom by watching a parade on the Fourth of July.
God Bless America.
Find the cost of freedom buried in the ground Mother earth will swallow you lay your body down
Find the cost of freedom buried in the ground Mother earth will swallow you lay your body down
…
… Feel free to share this blog …
Addendum:
You can read my previous blogs on gun violence here:
There was no urgency to write this blog. I knew another mass shooting would happen sooner or later. I didn’t have to tie it to Buffalo or California. The next shooting would come along soon enough. I wasn’t disappointed. Texas happened this past […] Continue at: https://mnhallblog.wordpress.com/2022/05/29/guns-and-murica/
It was May of 1943 in Bizerte, Tunisia. My Dad, then twenty year old Sergeant Willie I. Hall looked at the German soldier and said “Chicago”. The German answered “Chicago?” Dad stared back. “Chicago. Al Capone”. Now the German’s eyes’ widened …
… After the battle at Maknassy, Dad’s unit, the 60th Regimental Combat Team (RCT) reunited with the rest of the 9th Infantry Division. In late April of ‘43, the push was on to finish the war in North Africa, and in the words of the division Commander, Major General Eddy, “A world spotlight will be focused on us from the moment we attack until we have killed, captured, or driven every Axis soldier from Tunisia…”
The history books tell us that as a part of their assault, the 60th, attacked through the Sedjenane Forest and after driving the Germans out of the area, hit a bottleneck at Djebel Cheniti. On May 5th, the 1st Battalion of the 60th (Dad’s Battalion – about 500 men) attacked Hills 207 and 168 (see diagram below) and Djebel Cheniti by a direct assault with fixed bayonets. You read that right. Fixed Bayonets. In the words of the 9th Infantry Division Record, “One of the strongest positions in the final Axis defense was assaulted by one battalion of Infantry, with artillery blasting a shell-strewn pathway for its advance. Another story in the annals of foot soldiers, who do the dirty tasks of warfare”. After several hours, they took the hills and Cheniti.
I never heard dad say a word about the battle at Cheniti. Not one.*
1st Battalion, 60th RCT’s Path While Attacking Djebel Cheniti and then Bizerte
On the 8th of May, they arrived in Bizerte, and on May 9th, the Germans surrendered. The battle for North Africa was over. In the words of one soldier of the 60th, “We were all 20 pounds lighter and 20 years older.”
Soldiers of the 60th RCT in the Hills outside Bizerte, Tunisia on May 7, 1943.
At this point, I’m sure you are saying, “This is all great history Max, but what the hell does it have to do with your Dad and Al Capone?” Good question.
Now we come to the rest of the story.
With the collapse of Rommel’s Africa Corps, the allies captured prisoners. A lot of prisoners. Over 275,000 Axis prisoners were taken in all, including 25,000 in and around Bizerte alone. This included General Jürgen von Arnim, the German Supreme Commander.
There were, of course, no prisons, so in the immediate aftermath they confined the Germans in large “holding pens” with single strands of barbed wire around each of the pens. The 9th, along with other units, were then drafted into guarding the prisoners until more secure facilities could be established.
Prisoner Holding Pens Near Bizerte, Tunisia
Dad talked about guarding the Germans and the Italians. You have to remember just a few days or weeks before, they were in a kill or be killed mode with the enemy, with plenty of butchery to go around. All that separated the two sides now was a bit of barbed wire. According to Dad, the Italians never had much fight, and the captured Germans knew they were beat, so they generally behaved. Still, you needed to be careful.
During the days they were on duty, dad’s platoon always guarded the same area, and after a while, they would recognize certain prisoners, talk a bit back and forth, and maybe even pass a cigarette across the wire. At the same time, Dad said he wanted to make sure he looked tough so no one did anything stupid.
As Dad tells the story, he was talking with a few of the Germans one day and someone asked where he was from. He answered “Illinois”, but the Germans looked confused. So dad thought about it a bit, and then trying to look a bit tougher he said “Chicago”. The German answered “Chicago?” Dad stared back. “Chicago … Al Capone”. Now the German’s eyes widened. Everyone knew who Al Capone was.
The German looked at Dad and said with a smile “Al Capone…. Ratatatatat….” While making a machine gun like motion with his hands.
Dad looked back at the German, nodded his head, patted his M1 Garand Rifle and without smiling, said “Ja, Al Capone.” The German stopped smiling and didn’t say anything else.
Dad always told the Al Capone story with a chuckle. When getting to the punchline, he would draw himself up to look bigger and meaner. But he was deadly serious about the Germans not trying anything. After what they had been through, I don’t think it would have taken much for him to put a bullet in someone, for doing something stupid.
A little over two months later, after a bit of rest and relaxation, Dad and the 60th were back in Combat against the Germans on the Island of Sicily. There, he was wounded and almost died. You can find a link for that story in the Addendum below.
Dad at the WWII Memorial in 2008.
Addendum:
* Except for the story of how he was wounded, Dad never said much about any of the battles he was involved in. For the most part, he told funny stories about events during the war. I was shocked when doing some research for this blog to find he had been involved in a charge with fixed bayonets. As a soldier, you know things aren’t going to be pretty when you receive an order to fix bayonets. That is combat at its most up close and personal. I have to figure that after you’ve been given the command to fix bayonets, and then taken part in a bayonet charge, everything else in your life, maybe for the rest of your life, must seem pretty easy. It may explain a bit about why Dad always had such a good attitude throughout his life.
Al Capone – As everyone knows, after being the Crime Boss of Chicago for much of the Twenties, Al Capone was incarcerated for tax evasion in 1931. He was released from prison in 1939, but wouldn’t die until 1947. He had a worldwide reputation for murder and violence that may have been the equivalent of his actual deeds.
The night wasn’t supposed to happen. As a matter of fact, in today’s post 9-11 world, it couldn’t happen. They never would have made it through security. But in 1991? Yea, my buddies Howard and June sprung me from O’Hare Airport during a layover, and we had an unexpected night in Chicago.
It was July 2nd, 1991 and I’d been in Omaha, Nebraska for a week. We were running communications tests on the President’s “other plane” – the National Emergency Airborne Command Post (NEACP – pronounced Kneecap). NEACP is the plane the president uses in the event of a nuclear attack. The tests went well and ended quicker than expected. As a result, I was racing to the airport to try and catch a flight home that evening, rather than my scheduled flight the next day.
NEACP – The President’s Other Plane
I made the airport with twenty minutes to spare and was able to get a ticket. At the time, there were no direct flights from DC to Omaha and I would need to connect through Chicago with a two hour layover. At the airport, I found a pay phone (don’t forget this was the pre-cellphone age) and called my buddies June and Howard in Chicago to see if they could meet me at the airport for a beer (remember pre 9-11 times at the airport? Anyone could walk out to the plane gates, and in fact, many people did. Usually not for a beer, but to meet loved ones when their plane arrived). Neither Howard or June were home so I left them a message on their answering machine. I figured the odds of them receiving the message AND making it to the airport on time were between slim and none. I ran to the plane and boarded.
An Entry From my Journal About the Weekend in Question*
An hour and a half later we landed in Chicago and I left the plane. I’ll be damned – both June and Howard were there at the gate to meet me! Handshakes all around and we found a bar near the gate I would fly out of two hours later.
We drank a couple of beers and June offhandedly said “Why don’t you spend the night?” I told him United wouldn’t let it happen, and how I was lucky to be on this flight at all. Then we thought, what the hell, let’s give it a shot. I walked over to the ticket agent at the gate and talked with him about changing my connecting flight to the next day. We went back and forth about it, but he gave me about fifteen reasons why he couldn’t do it. I walked back to the bar, which was within site of the agent and reported to the boys that it was no dice.
The Chances of Spending the Night in Chicago Didn’t Look Good*
Howard wasn’t going to take no for an answer. He set his beer down and marched over to the agent. He proceeded to berate the agent and said something like this to him – “What kind of American are you? Here’s my friend, a soldier doing his duty protecting our country while here you are, sitting on your ass and not doing anything to help out. My friend puts his life on the line every day – don’t you think he’s worth that small gesture?” (Or words to that effect. Howard was pretty animated – as he related to me recently, he was performing on stage regularly then including at the Improv Olympic in Chicago. That gave him some of the confidence to pull off the role of “irate friend”). They talked a bit more and Howard came back to the table with a smile – It was on! The agent gave me a return ticket for the next day and we left O’Hare.
We were starving by now, and headed to a new Giordano’s Pizzaria. At the time, Giordano’s had only two or three locations in Chicago, and no where else. We ordered a couple of stuffed pizzas along with a few more beers. The night progressed. From there, it was on to another bar, and then to a bar across the street from their apartment for a final beer and a tequila (or two). We finally made it to bed around 1:30AM.
The next morning, I was moving a bit slowly. When I woke up, Howard was already gone, as he had to be at work early. June and I cleaned up and went out for a quick breakfast, before he drove me back to the airport. We arrived at 10:15, just in time to catch my 11:10 flight – it was my original flight, before I rescheduled everything the day before… ;-).
It was an unexpected night in Chicago with my oldest friends. What could possibly be better?
Howard, Me and June, Two Months Later in September of 1991. I was Back in Illinois for a Couple More Days. Bloodies were Evidently on the Menu this Particular Day.
Addendum:
⁃ * I’ve kept a journal for decades. I’ve rarely used it for any of my blogs, because I’m usually sporadic about what I write. When I was younger, it seems I wrote in it most often while traveling. The “writing” pictures you see in this blog are extracts from the journal. I’ve told this particular story several times before, but never looked in my journal to see if I recorded it. I was looking for something else, and came across these entries. My memory was pretty close to what I had written, although I didn’t specifically remember going to Giordano’s, drinking tequila that night, or the breakfast the next day. Those recollections are straight from the journal.
⁃ Thanks to June (Tim Stouffer) and Howard (Kim Johnson) for contributing to this blog. Thanks even more for being lifelong friends.
⁃ The job I had in the Army at the time was pretty interesting, and involved Nuclear Command and Control (C2) systems, among other things. A week after this trip on NEACP, I went to Norfolk for a week and was on the USS Nassau, a Tarawa Class Amphibious Assault ship. We were again testing Nuclear C2 systems.
Live Life Exuberantly 