I often process information by writing it down. I suspect that many songwriters do the same thing. Until watching the Netflix documentary on Johnny Cash and President Nixon, I never identified Cash as being actively political. For starters, when you throw your hat in the political ring, you stand to offend anyone that sees things differently. We all know that is true. Why would Cash take that kind of risk?
I wrote yesterday's blog and perhaps violated my own self-protective principal to keep my political views close to my chest. I was not a fan of President Nixon. You probably ascertained that from what I shared.
After traveling to Vietnam to entertain American troops, with pen in hand, he wrote "Singin' in Viet Nam Talkin' Blues". The song details the "livin' hell" he witnessed. He ended the song with the hope that if he ever returns, it will be after the war is over, by which time all of "our boys" will be home and safe.
The song journals his experience. It brought tears to my eyes:
One morning at breakfast, I said to my wife
We been everywhere once and some places twice
As I had another helping of country ham
She said "We ain't never been to Vietnam
And there's a bunch of our boys over there
So we went to the Orient: Saigon
Well we got a big welcome when we drove in
Through the gates of a place that they call Long Vinh
We checked in and everything got kinda quiet
But a soldier boy said: "Just wait until tonight
Things get noisy. Things start happening
Big bad firecrackers
Well that night we did about four shows for the boys
And they were living it up with a whole lot of noise
We did our last song for the night
And we crawled into bed for some peace and quiet
But things weren't peaceful. And things weren't quiet
Things were scary
Well for a few minutes June never said one word
And I thought at first that she hadn't heard
Then a shell exploded not two miles away
She sat up in bed and I heard her say: "What was that?
I said: That was a shell, or a bombShe said: I'm scared.
I said "Me too
Well all night long that noise kept on
And the sound would chill you right to the bone
The bullets and the bombs, and the mortar shells
Shook our bed every time one fell
And it never let up; it was gonna get worse
Before it got any better
Well when the sun came up, the noise died down
We got a few minutes sleep, an' we were sleeping sound
When a soldier knocked on our door and said
Last night they brought in seven dead, and 14 wounded
And would we come down to the base hospital, and see the boys
Yes So we went to the hospital ward by day
And every night we were singing away
Then the shells and the bombs was going again
And the helicopters brought in the wounded men
Night after night; day after day
Coming and a going
So we sadly sang for them our last song
And reluctantly we said: So long
We did our best to let them know that we care
For every last one of them that's over there
Whether we belong over there or not
Somebody over here love's them, and needs them
Well now that's about all that there is to tell
About that little trip into living hell
And if I ever go back over there any more
I hope there's none of our boys there for me to sing for
I hope that war is over with
And they all come back homeTo stay
I will close with the lyrics written by Cash in Route #1, Box 144
His dying barely made the morning paper
And they summed it up in twenty words or more
Killed in action leaves wife and baby
At Route #1, Box 144
He grew up on a little farm
Just a couple of miles out of town
As a boy he worked in his daddy's field
And when his daddy could spare him
He hired out to the neighbors
For whatever they could pay him
He was thought of as just average a good boy
Nothing more the average amount of friends
He married his high school sweetheart
They brought a little plot of ground
Couple of miles out of town on a mailbox it said
Route #1, Box 144
Well, back in town there were very few people
That really knew him because he hardly ever came to town
Except for maybe on Saturdays of course
The usual crew was always there
But he didn't spend a lot of times with the usual crew
He took care of his business
Bought what he had to have or could afford for his family
And went back to his little farm
With a baby on the way he went to the army
And it was just a short while that the news came
That he was killed in action
His body was sent back on a plane and then by train
And then they brought the body from the train station
To Route #1, Box 144
He never did great things to be remembered
He'd never been away from home before
But you'd've thought that he was president or something
At Route #1, Box 144
https://genius.com/Johnny-cash-route-no-1-box-144-lyrics
All My Best!
Don
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