Yellow Sweatshirt

A yellow sweat shirt with a red United States Marine Corp emblem is what I remember Fred Benishek wearing in Antigo, 1968. My parents called him Freddy. About 60 feet separated our houses. I was 8, Freddy was 18-19 years old. His younger brother, Jim, was my friend. Jim was 6 feet 3 or 5 inches tall. Maybe 4 years older than me. Maybe 5. We were good friends. Jim had three brothers and one sister. I had no brothers and three sisters. I suppose all of the boys were called "Benny".

Two of the Bennys were big boys. Tom was the oldest and not big. He got married and worked for the fire department. Tom's typical shirt was a white T-shirt, or a button casual work, checkered. John was a giant. He wore shorts, maybe 12 months out of the year and sandals. I did not know other guys who wore sandals and this crew cut, giant of a man scared me. Jim never went to a barber, but his hair style was forever crew cut. Blue jeans and white t-shirts was all he ever wore.

Fred was the smallest. My memories of him are bits and pieces: A ride on his shoulders. A cherry bomb exploding in our yard left a crater the size of my little boy foot. Fred bombed a football all the way across my back yard. He rode a Brigestone motorcycles and nearly cut all the fingers off of his hand with a machete. I think I saw the yellow of the inside of Fred's fingers, but I could be imagining.

Marines were dieing by the dozens daily in Vietnam in 1968. Walter Cronkite said the war was unwinnable that year. Canada was the destination for many. The draft was in full gear. Fred joined the Marines. He became a sniper. He was going to Vietnam by choice. By air Vietnam is nearly 9000 miles from Antigo. I had hardly been out of the City.

Home from sniper school Fred wore the yellow shirt with the red Marine emblem. The arms were missing. Hand written words in black marker made it clear that Fred was determined to do his job well. People were going to die. Fred was going to war. I was wide eyed and in awe. Me, Jim, and our friends played army with plastic guns and baseball bats. We killed Krauts. Never Gooks. We saw the current war on TV at night but never built up any warrior feelings toward communists. We could battle the Germans. We knew about Germans and the iron cross, the tanks, the machine guns, and the odd shaped helmets. We didn't know much about the communists---too young to know about Korea.

In June of '69 I was at the City Park when my sister Kathy rode up on Carol's blue Schwinn Hollywood bicycle. The handle bars had streamers of multi colored plastic coming out of the ends of the handle grips. Her message was for me to go home right now. It was important and as usual, Kathy was not going to tell me the message...just get going home.

I rode my black Schwinn Typhoon. I kept asking. We reached Superior Street at the top of a hill. Facing the orange brick, federalist style public library, Kathy told me. "Freddy Benishek was killed." I pushed my bike pedals hard and stood to pedal with anger and said, "I hate those gooks!"

The war had come home to 5th Avenue. Two Marines were at Benisheks. Fred as we knew him was not coming home. I wondered about the man who killed him. Did he know that he was our neighbor. Why would he kill my friend's brother. The idea that a kid from Antigo High School was hated enough to be killed by a person who did not speak our language scared me.

We never played army again. Bats were for balls, not bazookas. Any ill will we had about Germans and Japanese probably vanished. I wanted to know more about these Viet Cong...they had a scary name and a bullet they touched killed a person I knew. I wanted to know what happened to Fred. I found Fred's name on the Vietnam Vets Memorial and took pictures for his Mom and Dad in 1982.

For forty years I wondered about Fred's final moment. This summer the family found out the rest of the story from the man who was Fred's teammate on hill 55. Too late for Mr. and Mrs. Benishek, but in time for Fred's brothers and sister. I'm grateful they have heard the rest of the story.

I wonder what became of the yellow sweat shirt with the red Marine Corp emblem, no sleeves and black marker handwritten words of determination?

www.antigodailyjournal.com

Memorial To Vietnam Soldiers