Mark did not like it here, nor should he have liked it. So although he was no longer subject to military service, or running from anything but a power structure (like the one today) shamelessly rigged in favor of his own race and economic and intellectual class, he went to Canada. All this is in The Eden Express. A sequel (and I hope he will write one, because he is such a good writer) would tell of his recovering sufficiently from a crack-up to go through Harvard Medical School and become a middle-aged pediatrician and saxophonist with two kids of his own, in group practice on the edge of Boston. (The nurses at Massachusetts General Hospital recently named him their favorite pediatrician, and among his young patients was a grandson of my late friend Bernard Malamud.)
Mark’s only crime against his government, and the only crime committed by Abbie Hoffman and so many others of that generation during the Vietnam War, was a sublimely Jeffersonian form of treason. It was disrespect.
I subtitled a novel of mine about World War II The Children’s Crusade. But the average age of an American corpse in my war was an unchildlike twenty-six. In the Vietnam War your average American corpse was six years younger. So were the four antiwar demonstrators who were shot dead by the National Guard (draft-dodgers in uniform) at Kent State University in Ohio in 1970. Because the most visible of the antiwar protesters, who included many returned Vietnam veterans, were so young, all they stood for could be dismissed by their enemies as symptoms of immaturity. They were attempting to save lives and resources, but their appearance and manners (and music, and excitement and confusion about sex) made them unfit, so went the argument, for such a serious role.
I memorialized this prejudice in a plot scheme for a short story (never written) to be called “The Dancing Fool.” I included the plot in a novel, and it goes like this:
“A flying-saucer creature named Zog arrived on Earth to explain how wars could be prevented, and how cancer could be cured. Zog brought the information from Margo, a planet where the natives conversed by means of farts and tap-dancing. Zog landed at night in Connecticut. He had no sooner touched down than he saw a house on fire. He rushed into the house, farting and tap-dancing, warning people about the terrible danger they were in. The head of the house brained him with a golf club.”
If Abbie Hoffman had been my son, I would have told him that he was doing the right thing while the Vietnam War was going on. I would have warned him, too, that he was putting his life on the line for his countrymen.
WHAT BERNARD V. O’HARE SAID
ABOUT OUR FRIENDSHIP
ON MY SIXTIETH BIRTHDAY
At the end of a war soldiers who have become war buddies lie to one another and say they will keep in touch. Kurt and I, however, did not lie, and we have managed to be completely unsuccessful in avoiding one another since then.
This is somehow true, although before the war we had nothing in common in our backgrounds except that we were about the same age and smoked too much. What we have in common now derives unhappily from the war and happily from our relationship as old and close friends.
I first met Kurt when assigned by the Army to participate in a specialized training program which brought us together at Alabama Polytechnic Institute in Auburn, Alabama. The Army Specialized Training Program was shelter for the preppies of World War II. But it terminated prematurely, and we were transferred to the Infantry. And because neither of us understood maps or had any sense of direction, we were put to work as reconnaissance scouts. This is explanation enough as to the circumstances of our capture.
Our captors told us that “for you the war is over” and sent us to Dresden.
We lived in a slaughterhouse. In the firebombing of that city by persons we thought were friends it proved to be the best house in town.
We went back to Dresden after the war. I don’t believe that either of us really expected to find it there or to discover that it existed in the first place. But, and in spite of our training as reconnaissance scouts, find it we did, albeit in a somewhat different form from the Jewel City of our memory.
It was uncomfortable being there the first time and it was uncomfortable being there the second time.
Except in generalities, we never presently talk about Dresden or the war. This probably is because when together we laugh too much.
We laughed excessively on our return to Dresden, hysterical laughter, I believe.
Both of us agreed that we could still smell the smoke and some other things.
We didn’t spend much time there.
Russia was also part of our itinerary. We didn’t spend much time there, either.
In some reviews Kurt has been characterized as a black humorist. Those reviewers wouldn’t know black humor from Good Friday. They don’t know that what they read is only his reaction to the sight of the world gone mad and rushing headlong toward Dresden to the hundredth power.
And they miss his message, in which he pleads that world governments found their rule on something more akin to the Sermon on the Mount than the preachings of those who lead the world to Armageddon.
There is certainly nothing wrong with a man like that. And if such thinking constitutes black humor, it’s too bad there is not an epidemic of it.
I am glad Kurt and I did not die.
And I would go back to Dresden with him again.
Happy Birthday, Kurt.
FROM “THE BOMBER’S BAEDEKER”
(GUIDE TO THE ECONOMIC IMPORTANCE
OF GERMAN TOWNS AND CITIES, 1944)
DRESDEN (Saxony)
51°3’ N. 13°45’ E: 600 miles: (640,000)
Dresden, the capital of Saxony, is situated on both banks of the river Elbe, and stands at approximately 360 feet above sea level. The left bank, with the Altstadt, or old town, as nucleus is the larger of the two parts; in it are found the commercial centre, the residential area and public buildings, and some industries, mainly in its S-Suburbs. Neustadt, on the right bank, and its suburbs contain industrial centres and administration.
In peace time tobacco, chocolate, and confectionery manufacture played a large part in Dresden’s industrial activity; there are also a large number of light engineering works and makers of machinery which are now engaged on all kinds of war production, many of which are too small to be listed individually. Several important factories are making electric motors, precision and optical instruments and chemicals.
The munitions workshops in the old arsenal occupy an extensive area to the North of Neustadt, along the railway to Klotsche, in the industrial region which extends past the aerodrome to the Dresdner Heide. In the Heide, a large heath, munitions are reported to be stored in quantities.
Dresden is an important railway centre. The main connections between South and East Germany and the direct line from Berlin to Prague and Vienna pass through Dresden whence several branch lines lead to Leipzig and other parts of industrial Saxony. The river harbour is of considerable importance to the freight traffic of the Elbe.
To the SW. of the town in the valley of the Weisseritz is the industrial town of Freital (dealt with under its own heading) and a small coal field which supplies the light industries that have been developed in Dresden.
Along the northern bank of the Elbe between Dresden and Meissen are a number of industrial settlements which are outside the municipal area of Dresden. These have been dealt with separately under the town headings Radebeul, Coswig near Dresden, and Meissen.
COMMENT
This is a page from a sort of directory kept aboard British and American bombers, from which crews might pick targets on their own in case they hadn’t been able to carry out their assigned mission that night or day. I reproduce it here to show that there wasn’t much in the Dresden area worth bombing out of business according to our own Intelligence experts. So burning the whole place down wasn’t an exercise in military science. It was religious. It was Wagnerian. It was theatrical. It should be judged as such.
ENGLISH TRANSLATION
OF THE LATIN MASS PROMULGATED
r /> BY POPE ST. PIUS V IN 1570
BY DECREE OF THE COUNCIL OF TRENT
Rest eternal grant them, O Lord,
and let light perpetual shine upon them.
A hymn befits Thee, O God, in Zion,
and to Thee shall be paid a vow in Jerusalem.
Hear my prayer,
to Thee all flesh shall come.
Lord, have mercy upon us.
Rest eternal grant them, O Lord,
and let light perpetual shine upon them.
A day of wrath, that day,
it will dissolve the world into glowing ashes,
as attested by David together with the Sibyl.
What trembling there will be
when the Judge shall come
to examine everything in strict justice!
The trumpet’s wondrous call sounding abroad
in tombs throughout the world
shall drive everybody toward the throne.
Death and nature shall stand amazed
when Creation rises again
to give answer to its Judge.
A written book will be brought forth
in which everything is contained
from which the world shall be judged.
So when the Judge is seated,
whatever sin is hidden will be made known.
Nothing sinful shall go unpunished.
Death and nature shall stand amazed
when Creation rises again
to give answer to its Judge.
What shall I, a wretch, say at that time?
What advocate shall I entreat to plead for me
when scarcely the righteous shall be safe from damnation?
King of awesome majesty,
Who to those that are to be saved givest the grace of salvation,
save me, O fount of pity.
Recall, dear Jesus,
that I am the reason for Thy journey into this world:
Do not cast me away from Thee on that day.
Seeking me, Thou didst sit down weary.
Thou didst redeem me, suffering death on the cross:
Let not such toil have been in vain.
Just Judge of vengeance,
grant me the gift of pardon
before the day of reckoning.
I groan like one condemned;
my face blushes for my sins;
spare a suppliant, O God.
Thou who didst absolve Mary Magdalen,
and heard the prayer of the robber,
hast given me hope as well.
My prayers are not worthy;
but Thou, of Thy goodness, deal generously with me,
that I burn not in the everlasting fire.
Give me a place among the sheep,
and separate me from the goats,
setting me on Thy right hand.
That day will be one of weeping,
on which shall rise again from the embers
the guilty man, to be judged.
When the accursed have been confounded
and sentenced to acrid flames,
call me along with the blessed.
That day will be one of weeping,
on which shall rise again from the embers
the guilty man, to be judged.
Therefore spare him, O God.
Merciful Lord Jesus,
grant them rest. Amen.
O Lord Jesus Christ, King of Glory,
deliver the souls of all the faithful departed
from the pains of hell and from the bottomless pit.
Save them from the lion’s jaws,
that hell may not engulf them,
that they may not fall into darkness,
but let St. Michael the standard-bearer lead them into the holy light
which Thou of old didst promise to Abraham and his seed.
Sacrifices and prayers of praise to Thee, O Lord, we offer:
Do Thou receive them on behalf of those souls
whom this day we commemorate.
Allow them, O Lord, to pass from death unto life.
Holy, holy, holy, Lord God of Sabaoth,
heaven and earth are full of Thy Glory.
Hosanna in the highest.
Blessed is he who cometh in the name of the Lord.
Hosanna in the highest.
A day of wrath, that day,
it will dissolve the world into glowing ashes,
as attested by David together with the Sibyl.
Hear my prayer,
to Thee all flesh shall come.
Merciful Jesus, who takest away the sins of the world,
grant them rest.
O Lamb of God, who takest away the sins of the world,
grant them eternal rest:
Let eternal light shine upon them,
O Lord with Thy saints forever, for Thou art merciful.
Deliver me, O Lord, from everlasting death on that
dread day when the heavens and earth shall quake,
when Thou shall come to judge the world by fire.
I am seized with trembling and I am afraid
until the day of reckoning shall arrive and the wrath to come.
Hear my prayer.
Deliver me, O Lord, from everlasting death.
That day, a day of wrath, calamity, and misery:
Rest eternal grant them, O Lord,
and let light perpetual shine upon them.
MASS PROMULGATED BY ME IN 1985
Rest eternal grant them, O Cosmos,
and let not light disturb their sleep.
A hymn is naught tSo Thee, O flying Stones,
nor a vow unratified
in a dream in Jerusalem.
Yet I pray:
From Thee all flesh did come;
Time, have mercy upon us;
Elements, have mercy upon us.
Rest eternal grant them, O Cosmos,
and let not light disturb their sleep.
A day of wrath, that day:
We shall dissolve the world into glowing ashes,
as attested by our weapons for wars
in the names of gods unknowable.
Let not the ashes tremble,
though some Judge should come
to examine all in some strict justice!
Let no trumpet’s wondrous call sounding abroad
in tombs throughout the world
drive ashes toward any Throne.
Let ashes remain as ashes,
though summoned to approach in terror,
as in life, some Judge or Throne.
Must a written book be brought forth
in which everything is contained
from which the ashes shall be judged?
Then when some Judge is seated,
and whatever is hidden is made known,
let him understand
that naught hath gone unpunished.
Let Death and Nature say what they will
when ashes sleep like ashes
when commanded to give answers to some Judge.
What shall I, a wretch, say at that time?
What advocate shall I entreat
when even the righteous have been damned
by wars in the names of gods unknowable?
Structure of awesome majesty,
donor of sleep or wakefulness,
Thou fount of random pain or pity,
give me the innocence of sleep.
Gambler with flesh,
Thou art the reason for my journey:
Do not cast the dice again on that day.
My wild and loving brother
did try to redeem me by suffering death on the cross:
Let not such toil have been in vain.
I groan like one condemned;
my face blushes for my sins.
Spare a suppliant from more such wakefulness.
Thou who didst neither condemn nor forgive Mary Magdalen
and the robber on the cross
hast giv
en me hope as well.
My prayers are unheard,
but Thy sublime indifference will ensure
that I burn not in some everlasting fire.
Give me a place among the sheep
and the goats, separating none from none,
leaving our mingled ashes where they fall.
That day will be one of comical disappointment
to any who hoped to see rise again from the embers
the guilty to be judged.
When the litigious have been confounded
and sentenced to comical disappointment,
count me among the gratified.
That day will be one of comical disappointment,
on which shall rise again from the embers
no guilty man or woman or child to be judged.
I depend on you to spare them, O Stones,
O Time, O Elements.
Grant them rest. Amen.
O Cosmos, O structure of awesome majesty,
deliver without exception the souls of the departed
from the pains of Hell and from the bottomless pit.
Save them from the lion’s jaws,
that Hell may not engulf them,
that they may only fall into darkness which is still and sweet. Dazzle them not with light promised in a dream to Abraham and his seed.
Sacrifices and prayers of praise to Thee, O Cosmos,
we have offered for millennia.
Reward us with Thy continued indifference to the destinies past death
of those souls whom we this day commemorate.
Life was sport enough!
Allow them to pass from death unto sleep.
Holy, holy, holy, Time and the Elements:
Heaven and Earth are full of Thy Glory.
Hosanna in the highest.
Humbled and amazed are he and she who have experienced life.
Hosanna in the highest.
A day of wrath, that day:
We shall dissolve the world into glowing ashes,
as attested by our weapons for wars
in the names of gods unknowable.