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Frank Havlik leaned against the wet brick of the Seventh
Avenue firehouse and lit a filtered Camel.? Frank was one of
a group of middle-aged fathers and husbands living in
Hudson, New York, who unofficially gathered every Saturday
to debate and philosophize.? Today, conversations drifted
from weather to politics to the war.
The
war in the summer of 1968 was in Vietnam.? Frank's only son,
John Martin Havlik, whom they called Marty, had enlisted six
months earlier and was serving his first tour in the jungle.
Marty's mother had begged him not to go, and his four
younger sisters had all cried the day he left home.? The
family had already lost a neighbor to the conflict thousands
of miles away, but Marty was not deterred.? He felt it was
his duty as an American to help the less fortunate - a sense
of duty Frank had instilled in him at an early age.? Frank
was proud of his son and respected his decision to enlist.
"How's Marty?" asked one of the men.
"He
seems to be all right.? We just got a letter this week,"
Frank replied.
Frank had already read the letter a dozen times.? In the
back of Frank's mind, a constant worry for his son pulled at
him, so reading about Marty's exploits, no matter how
dangerous, was always comforting.? Maybe it was simply
knowing Marty was alive and well at the time the letter was
written.
Frank abbreviated a story from his son's latest letter for
his listeners.?
"He
complains there isn't enough to drink and that it's too damn
hot.? After being in the swamps for a few weeks, he was
issued a few canteens of water to shower with, but he
decided to drink it instead."
The
men all laughed.? Most had known Marty since his baptism.
"I
would sure hate to be bunking next to him," one man called
out.
"Especially if he smells like his father," another man
remarked.
Frank crushed out his cigarette on the sidewalk.? His
friends could always make him laugh and forget about his
worries - at least temporarily.
As
the conversation wound down, the men noticed they were not
alone on Seventh Avenue.? The nice weather had drawn a crowd
to the park across the street, where one man, who was
probably only a few years older than Marty, carried a
megaphone and seemed to be leading the gathering.
"How many more must die?" the man with the megaphone
shouted.
"What are they dying for?"
Hudson was not a big town.? The men often joked, "You'd have
to quadruple the population of the town just to fill up
Yankee Stadium."? But like many American towns that summer,
Hudson had its own Vietnam protests.
Frank had seen these types of unscheduled rallies before.
They mostly consisted of bored teenagers yelling, singing or
praying.? There was never any threat of violence.? Today,
however, looked to be different.? Frank did not recognize
the man with the megaphone.? His tall, lanky body and bright
red hair would have been easy to remember.? The stranger was
new to Hudson but not new to protests.? He was an
electrifying speaker.? Soon the crowd was motivated, yelling
to a beat and throwing their fists in the air in unison.?
Frank could
not
remember a rally ever being so loud.? He felt the hair on
his arm raise.?
Standing where they were - just across the street - the men
by the firehouse could not help but watch.
"This country is sending its sons to die," the stranger
shouted.? The crowd agreed with a chorus of boos and
obscenities.? At the height of the excitement, the leader
grabbed a small American flag that was nearby and pulled it
out of the ground.? It was the kind of flag people line
their driveways with on the Fourth of July or place in honor
at a tombstone.? It was not the six-foot hand-stitched
version of Old Glory, but it was an American flag
nonetheless.? The man
held up the small flag and held a lighter flame near its
edge.
None of the men had noticed Frank leave the firehouse.? But,
suddenly, he was there, next to the lighter-toting
protester.? Without a moment of hesitation, Frank grabbed
the flag out of the stranger's hand.
Frank Havlik, son of a Czech immigrant, veteran of World War
II and father of an American soldier serving in Vietnam, did
not lecture the young man.? He simply took the flag and
returned with it to his spot, where he again leaned against
the firehouse.? He did not want to break up the protest;
they were Americans, exercising their rights.? Frank only
wanted to protect the flag he had fought for in France and
that his son was fighting for now, in Vietnam.
The
chanting ceased, and the fists were lowered.? Eyes darted
back and forth between Frank and the red-haired stranger
like an audience at Wimbledon.? Neither made a move.? Five
minutes passed before everyone began to realize there would
not be a fight.? There would not be a martyr - or a bully.?
A man with
long hair from the protesters' group broke the silence with
the strum of a guitar.? The tense moment passed, replaced by
the sound of voices singing antiwar songs.? Onlookers began
to disperse.? The red-haired stranger, no longer the leader,
became a participant and joined the peaceful demonstration.
The
men at the firehouse resumed their smoking and
philosophizing, but no one commented on Frank's actions.?
Frank held on to the flag; he planned to put it back after
the park was empty.
When the singing was done, the would-be flag burner crossed
the street and approached the firehouse.? The men sitting on
the steps started to stand, ready to defend their own, but
when they saw the protester's face, they knew his approach
was a white flag.
"I
would like to put the flag back in the park," was all the
young man said.
Frank handed over the small vinyl flag.? "Thank you," he
replied quietly.
Frank's story spread quickly.? A few days later, the Hudson
newspaper ran an article about the incident and included a
picture of Frank with an American flag.? Marty's sister
clipped the article and picture and sent them to her brother
in Vietnam.
The
letter containing the article arrived in early fall. Marty
slipped it and a short note out of the envelope.? The
picture of Frank and the flag immediately caught his
attention.? He read the article three times in a matter of
minutes.
Marty shared the article with a few buddies, who told
others, and soon all the soldiers in Marty's company had
heard about Marty's father and the flag.
Frank's act was a simple one, but it affected the young
soldiers deeply.? They had heard many stories of protests
and riots in the States.? They were even told not to wear
their uniform home because of the negative attention it
might
bring.? But the story of Frank saving one small flag made
them realize some civilians supported them.
Marty carried the article in his helmet liner with his
cigarettes for the remainder of his time in Vietnam.? His
father was not an articulate or emotional man, but the story
reinforced what Marty already knew: Frank was proud of him
and would always be behind him.
? ______________________________? ? ? ?
Reprinted by permission of Stacy Havlik McAnulty (c) 2000
from Chicken Soup for the Veteran's Soul by Jack Canfield,
Mark Victor and Sidney R. Slagter.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
May you be blessed today.
Bob Johnston
Editor / Publisher
To read archived stories, click on this link:?
http://archives.zinester.com/9516/2004?
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