42nd Highlanders Regimental Pipes & Drums

I Buried a Friend Today
by Doug Scheid

Since its beginning, the 42nd Highlanders Regimental Pipes & Drums has been a working band. By this I mean that we have a purpose. That purpose is not to entertain at highland games, although we do that. That purpose is not to look good in the many community parades, although we do that too. No, our purpose is much more important than any of these. It has to do with the honoring of our many passing veterans, both American and Allied who answer the final roll call to march the last post.

The 42nd has played for many memorial services accompanying members of the AmVets Guard of Honor. These volunteers present a very moving service on behalf of a ‘grateful nation’, and it has been an honor and privilege to work with them. We have also performed services at the moving Viet Nam wall as it makes its many stops through out southern California. Since many of our members are Viet Nam vets, this tends to be a very difficult but also very moving experience. As members of the band become more and more proficient, they begin to take on other veterans memorial services as a personal obligation. It is in this context that I am writing this article.

I buried a friend today. He was a soldier, a comrade in arms, a veteran…and I didn’t even know him. I should say that I didn’t know him personally. He was the friend of a friend. His name was Ronald Robertson. He was a Viet Nam vet and member of the Army Green Berets. He was severely wounded and taken prisoner by the viet cong and was held for over nine months until he and another soldier escaped. After an extended stay in a military hospital, he was discharged. Those of you who live in the southern California area may know the rest of the story. Ron became a hospital administrator. On September 14, 1999 he was killed at his work by a crazed vietnamese man with a misguided anger toward the hospital. Ron died as he lived, caring for others. His final efforts were to subdue the man, take his weapon away and prevent him from entering an area full of innocent civilians.

Ron epitomizes the typical Viet Nam vet. They quietly go about their business. Raising a family and serving their community. A majority of them would not even be recognized as veterans. When asked, they don’t mind swapping war stories, but if you listen closely, you’ll notice they don’t go into much detail. They talk about the funny things that happened, although sensitive people sometimes fail to see the humor. There is talk of friends who returned with them, but not much mention of the friends they left behind. It’s not that they don’t think about them. Even after thirty years the dreams still occasionally come.

Veterans come in all sizes and shapes. Each one has a link with all those who have gone before him. The job that he did is not what was important, it was his willingness to serve. Cooks or pilots, clerks or grunts, they all had a job that needed to be done. Most of the medals go to the lowly GI, but what about the doctors and nurses who put him back together. What about the maintenance guy who kept the chopper flying that brought him out of the combat zone. What about the supply guy who made sure he got that hot flak vest. What about the clerk who processed his paper work so he could go home. Every one of them served their country where that country felt they were needed. No argument, no complaint, just honorable service. Because of this, each veteran is a brother to every other. From the unknown cook to the greatest hero, they all live with a bond that can not be diminished. To the American people, they are known as veterans. To each other they are comrades in arms, GI’s, friends. That’s why I consider Ron to have been my friend.

It was an honor and a privilege to play the pipes at the memorial service for Ronald Robertson, husband and father, administrator and neighbor, veteran and friend. To his wife and family I can only say that they should be proud, for this country is definitely better for his having been here.

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