Stories

A Photo Too Far

I was very new to the 82nd Airborne Division in 1977 when the movie A Bridge Too Far came out. Because I was the runner-up Division Trooper of the Month and 2/505 Trooper of The Month the previous month, I received the Division Trooper Award and two tickets to the Fayetteville premier of the movie. My Battalion Command Sergeant Major told me to be there, take my wife, and wear my Greens.

I was proud to do so. This movie was the story of one of the most famous missions of WWII in which the 82nd played an important part. The premier was all the buzz in Fayetteville, with radio, TV, and newspaper announcements. The first showing was "Invitation Only," and I had two. All the big-wigs in town and at Bragg were there, but the special guests were the Paratroopers who jumped into Nijmegen and Eindhoven Holland. I was excited that we would get to meet these guys.

When we arrived, a young Captain ushered us through the lobby.  He took us around the important people socializing in the theater lobby, directly to our seats.  We were down in front and on the left side, with all the other young privates.  No Popcorn, No Drinks.

About ten minutes before the movie, the Captain came back, pointed at me and two other troopers, and said, "You, You, and You, Come with me." When the wife stood to go with me, he said, "Just the soldiers, Please."

We were ushered outside and positioned behind a group of men for a photo opportunity.  One of them was CSM Rock Merritt, our Corps Sergeant Major, a living Paratrooper Legend. The photographer took a couple of snaps, the Captain wrote down our names, and then hustled us back to our seats.

The movie was great.

Afterward, the VIPs went to an after-party. The  Captain thanked all of the privates for attending and told us to watch the newspaper the next day. Cool, I thought, we're going to be in the paper.

And that was it.

Unlike the organizers had promised, there was no face time with our heroes and no chance to talk to generals or sergeants major. We were just there, almost in the way. Ah Well. I still got to see the movie for free, learned a lot, and had a good story to tell the boys when I got back to Charlie Company.

However, as soon as the paper came out, it changed my story. I saw the problem right off. The story's photo showed a group of WWII Vets, all standing in front of the marquee. I stood behind them, centermost in the photograph, the only private visible behind the Vets.  Worst of all, I had a goofy look on my face that made me look like a 12-year-old girl at a Donny Osmond Concert.  The caption read, "...Rock Merritt (in Uniform) With Some Other Invasion Vets".

I knew I was in for a lot of grief.

Paratroopers are relentless when they find something to use against you, even if it is all in good fun.

It began at first formation the next day. My best buddy Steve "Fishugh" Fiscus saw me coming around the corner from Lindsey Field and yelled, "Neeeeeeely! You Cheeser!" There were other, less kind comments and a great deal of laughter. Any attempt on my part to explain what happened only made the jeering and laughter worse. I was called a brown-noser, a poser, a hero, and other terms that  I should not mention here.

Happily, all the abuse stopped when 1SG Gainey came out of the Orderly Room and ordered us all to Fall In.

After Receiving the Report, he began the day by saying, "I have a treat for you men today. We have in our midst a hero of The Battle of Market Garden (I hung my head), who will address you and tell you what it was really like at Nijmegen.

"PFC Neely, if you'll come forward."