Today being November 1st, I’d be remiss not to wish a happy birthday to the late Barry Sadler, writer and performer of the famous song, “The Ballad of the Green Beret”.  It’s a bit of a silly ditty, in my opinion (with lyrics like “fearless men who jump and die” and a dead Beret whose only request for his wife was that their son also become a Beret (nothing silly about soldiers’ sacrifices–just the simplicity of the presentation here)), but a catchy one, and something of an anthem for the folks Nixon eventually called the “silent majority”.

Not to sound like too much of an ironic hipster, but I must say that it’s among my favorite of the rock era “patriotic” songs (the melodies of Mellencamp and Springsteen, while anthemic-sounding, were obviously more bittersweet and protestive; Lee Greenwood’s and Hulk Hogans songs just suck; and while I love Marvin Gaye’s rendition of the national anthem and Ray Charles’ “America the Beautiful” (both great songs, in my opinion), their era is a little less clear, given that they were written so much earlier). Being among my favorite rock era patriotic songs is a dubious honor, but “Ballad of the Green Beret” remains on my ipod and I still enjoy its martial drumrolls and romantic visions of simplicity (”trained to live off nature’s land”) and selflessness (”he has died for those oppressed”), regardless of the degree to which they match(ed) reality, or to which I’d support the missions on which said Berets are sent. Mainly, I like to use it as a tongue-in-cheek, out-of bed-soldier song for my girlfriend and various floppers at our apartment.

Of course, my ability to do this is partly a product of relative youth and historical ignorance; I didn’t live through that time and thus don’t associate the song, on a visceral level, with support of the Vietnam war. I wonder if I could be similarly charmed by a song that became a rallying cry for Iraq War supporters today. I doubt it.

Anwyay, here’s Barry, doing his thing:

According to wikipedia, Sadler decided to give away the rights to the song while sitting in a hospital bed, recovering from surgery for an infection he developed from a punji stick (a wooden spike smeared with feces—funny, they didn’t talk so much about the feces part on the guided Cu Chi Tunnels (haha–I know) tour in Vietnam, though you could fire various automatic weapons at the National Defense Firing Range there). His 1967 autobiography (I checked it out yesterday) doesn’t seem to make any mention of this–at least not on a quick reading of the relevant chapter–so it’s probably apocraphyl.

His post-Ballad life is more interesting than anything else, if wikipedia is telling the truth. (It’s been hard to find much info anywhere to flesh out their fascinating sketch.) After making some money with his serialized novels of the mythical soldier Casca (who stabbed Christ during the crucifixion and is condemned to remain a soldier until the Second Coming), his life got really interesting (I’ll just copy directly from the article):

Later in life and after serving time in prison for fatally shooting Nashville songwriter, producer, and manager Lee Emerson Bellamy, Sadler moved to Guatemala City in the mid 1980’s and often hung out at a bar/restaurant called La Europa (also known as Freddie’s Bar for the German proprietor). He continued to publish the Casca books (mostly using various ghostwriters), produced a self-defense video (which was never released) and even helped with vaccination programs in rural villages. But it was often believed that he was involved in selling arms to the Guatemalan military or arming the Contras in Honduras and Nicaragua.

It was in Guatemala City that he was shot in the head one night in a taxi cab. He was airlifted to the States by friends from the Soldier of Fortune Magazine, where he was hospitalized and remained in a coma for several months. He died little more than a year later in his mother’s house in Murfreesboro, Tennessee. The circumstances involving his shooting remain a mystery. It has been claimed that he committed suicide, that he shot himself accidentally while showing off to a female companion, and that he was assassinated for allegedly training and arming the Contras. It is also possible that he was simply a victim of random violence.

An interesting dude, that Barry. Perhaps a little crazy. I doubt he and I would’ve agreed on much (even excluding ‘Nam—can’t say I’d be down with the Contras or Guatemalan military), but I think it would’ve been fun to sit down with him and chat. Anyway, happy birthday, soldier.

This entry was posted on Thursday, November 1st, 2007 at 11:36 am and is filed under Music. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.