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FIGHTING SOLDIERS, TENDER BROTHERS -- "Green
Berets" author
and icon Robin Moore reunites with his comrades
at Fort Campbell.
The only civilian who ever earned
the right to wear the Green Beret,
thanks to the help of his old friends
JFK and RFK, Robin Moore chose
to be around his fellow warriors
during his retirement years.
Story here...
http://www.rctimes.com/apps/pbcs.dll/article?AID=/
20060911/FEATURES01/609110309/1004/MTCN0303
Story below:
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Fighting soldiers, tender brothers
'Green Berets' author and icon Robin Moore
reunites with his comrades at Fort Campbell
By TIM GHIANNI
Senior Writer
The $10,000 bottle of scotch explains why globe-trotting author Robin
Moore of "Green Berets" and "French Connection" fame has settled in
Hopkinsville, Ky.
"This is home," says the 80-year-old author who purchased the bottle of
Chivas Regal at an auction to fund a Green Beret "safe house."
Tucked into the corn country nudged against Campbell Army Airfield's
perimeter, the safe house is actually a semi-secret clubhouse where
Green Berets seek fellowship.
Moore's bid on that bottle of scotch — he outbid the previous high offer
by $9,500 — helped his beloved brothers in arms, the subjects of his
most-acclaimed book, "The Green Berets," buy this worn farmhouse.
"We're the only ones who understand what we do," says Steve Stone,
referring to "The Brotherhood" of Green Berets, whether fresh from Iraq
or weathered by Vietnam, who converge here. He nods to Moore. "And
that's our icon sitting right there."
Men who've lived with death ricocheting around them know nothing is
forever . . . except that bottle of scotch.
"This bottle is our version of Kennedy's eternal flame," says Stone,
reaching into a closet to retrieve the expensive hooch. "We always keep
it full for Mr. Moore and his friends."
Moore didn't just popularize the term "Green Berets" in his book about
the Special Forces in Vietnam; he earned lifetime membership in The
Brotherhood. "There's no such thing as an ex-Green Beret," explains
Stone. You are a Green Beret, and then you're dead, whether of battle
wounds or of old age.
Thanks to his Harvard classmate and pal Robert F. Kennedy and RFK's big
brother — Moore talks of "Jack," as if he's in the room — the author is
the only civilian to go through training and serve in combat as a Green
Beret. The 36-year-old Sheraton Hotels heir simply wanted to write a
book. Instead, he chronicled history, fueled a myth. Most of all, he
became The Brotherhood's literary sibling.
When illness began to slow him, with Parkinson's creeping in and throat
cancer then undiagnosed, he and wife Helen moved to Hopkinsville, the
retirement home of many members of the 5th Special Forces Group
(Airborne), the Green Berets stationed at nearby Fort Campbell.
"This is where we wanted to live," Moore says, voice softened by the
radiation and chemo for the cancer he prays has been licked. "My friends
are here. I was with the 5th Group in Vietnam, and I knew more people
here than anywhere else."
Their home in the Great Oaks subdivision suits this Green Beret author.
There's a pool and a garden. Black Hawks regularly chop the air
overhead, and during training there's a soundtrack of artillery fire.
The library is crammed with Moore's books and resource materials for his
writing. He is working on his memoirs and a book about reincarnation.
His daily writing regimen takes him to the computer by 7:30 a.m. Some
days "my fingers don't work so well" because of the Parkinson's, so he
dictates. He spends the afternoon reviewing the morning's work before
stopping at 5:30 p.m. for a taste of Johnny Walker Black.
A comfy existence for sure. But comfort could be found in the property
the author still owns in Jamaica, where the couple first met a
half-century ago, and in a cottage in Yorkshire, England.
Next-door neighbor Robert Hall illustrates why the Moores chose this as
their destination. "I come over to mow their lawn," says this retired
Green Beret who also claims friendship with Ross Perot. "Helen likes to
let the grass grow long. She doesn't know copperheads like long grass."
Hall's not just watching out for beloved neighbors, he's protecting the
icon of The Brotherhood.
Steve Stone, a retired major who is secretary of Chapter 38 of the
Special Forces Association and "keeper" of its clubhouse, says "The
Green Berets" book and its movie version starring John Wayne are almost
biblical. "The movie's one of about three movies that didn't show us as
crazy killers."
"I just was telling the story of these men and what they did," Moore
says, saying the book, its subsequent daily comic strip and the movie
were misunderstood by "the peaceniks." When he wrote the book, "I wasn't
pro-Green Beret or anti-Green Beret." He was a writer walking in the
boots of men he now forever regards as heroes.
That love is mutual. "The fellows are always dropping in to visit with
Robin," says Helen, 20 years her husband's junior. "And if I need to be
gone for a while, one of them comes to stay with him."
Al Morace displays that devotion during lunch at a local family
restaurant. The retired Green Beret sergeant major served in Vietnam
when Moore was there. "He didn't know me. We weren't on the same team.
But we all knew about Robin and what he was doing," Morace says.
Morace keeps a steady eye on Moore to make sure he can eat his half-slab
of ribs despite Parkinson's palsy. Subtly helping his "big brother" with
knife and napkin, Morace insures that Moore's dignity is preserved
despite the messy ribs.
The author is a frequent and much-sought guest at Fort Campbell
ceremonies. "I fall down sometimes," says Moore, who supports himself
with a cane. His collection of walking canes, by the way, includes one
that holds a tube for scotch.
"When I was in Afghanistan, I had one like this. Me and some of the
fellows sat down and shared it," Moore says with a twinkle in his
piercing blue eyes.
That cane burst someplace in Taliban country, but a duplicate has been
found. And the hidden tube does indeed contain dark amber liquid.
It's not what's in the cane that makes Moore stumble. Rather, it's the
reason he uses the cane at all, the Parkinson's, that steals mobility
and stability. When he does tumble at functions, the Green Beret at his
side — for he's always escorted by brothers — grabs Moore's elbows and
they continue walking, without missing precise military stride. It's a
gentle gesture among hard men.
Helen Moore explains the relationship simply: "One of the things that is
special about Robin's Green Beret brothers is that they treat Robin as a
person. They don't ask for anything in return.
"They aren't asking for help getting a book published. They aren't
asking for money.
"For us, it's so nice to be around a group of people like these. They
have this wonderful respect and love and consideration for Robin.
"When Robin was sick (his throat cancer was diagnosed and treated not
long after he and Helen moved here a year ago), the help and support we
got from these men was incredible."
The Moores reciprocate the love by helping with the safe house. "We
donate bits from time to time and I have my odd coin jar. As it fills
up, we donate that," Helen says. At least once a week "we go out there
and have a bit of fun with the guys."
Books by Moore jam the safe house's bookshelf. There's also a photo of
the Duke from the filming of "The Green Berets" on the wall. Other
decorations include a "Wanted Dead or Alive" poster for Osama bin Laden
and the mounted head of a cape buffalo. Green Berets, who have served in
places such as Somalia, call the African beast "the deadliest animal
alive."
Dead, the buffalo wears the beret of Joe Cyr, a clubhouse regular who
died of cancer. A cigarette dangles from the animal's mouth.
Stone also points to a cross made of charred metal. It's sacred and it
came from someplace secret "up north," he hints. It also traveled back
and forth to Afghanistan. Perhaps it's made of a piece of the Twin
Towers? Stone will say no more.
The history of Moore's relationship with these troops also fills the
author's home, 20 minutes from this outpost.
Moore points to photos of himself in Vietnam, where he was exposed to
the brutality of war. "We were with the Montagnards (the hill tribesmen
who fought alongside U.S. forces). We were fighting Viet Cong. I had to
shoot a guy. If I hadn't, someone else would have. Then I was told, 'If
you don't cut the right ear off, they'll think you're a (wimp).' '' The
Montagnards collected bounty for each ear collected.
There's also a copy of "The Ballad of the Green Berets," the song Moore
wrote with the late Barry Sadler, a member of The Brotherhood who sang
that hit recording.
"I'm in great company, Robin," writes "The Duke, John Wayne," on a photo
taken during the 1967 filming of the movie.
"I really liked Duke," says the author, who spent many nights nursing
the script and whiskey with Wayne on the set at Fort Benning, GA. "We
rode motorcycles together, and one time I crashed. Duke pulls up and I
tell him I broke my collarbone. He picks me up off the ground and says
'You're all right, Robin.' "
The writer laughs, still softly, because of his cancer. "Duke was a good
guy. He said to me at the time, 'Robin, I'm trying to lick cancer.' I
said, 'I hope you do.' ''
Wayne won that battle with cancer, though he was felled a dozen years
later by the disease.
"Now, all these years later, I'm licking cancer," Moore says. "I'm an
eternal optimist. And I think about Duke. If he beat cancer, I can,
too."
A painting in the living room shows The Blue Lagoon in Jamaica, where
the author lived in the 1950s and where he and sidekick Errol Flynn
swashbuckled through the female populace.
"Robin was something of the town stud," according to Helen, who first
met him down there. She was a schoolgirl of 15, perhaps younger, and her
family nixed any relationship between her and the twice-divorced writer
or with his drinking buddy.
Helen's family moved away, putting the kibosh on that relationship for a
half-century or so. By the time Helen and Moore reconnected for good, he
was in his late 70s and had been married four times. She also had
enjoyed a full family life in England and South Africa.
After 50 years, the two finally were both single and past the age of
consent. "We've been together ever since" they met up again in 2002, she
says.
They were married at a 2005 Green Beret convention in Nashville. Morace,
in blue jeans and Green Beret, held a shotgun to the author's back as he
marched them down the aisle at the Music City Sheraton.
"It was truly wonderful," says the bride. Soon after the nuptials, they
began Hopkinsville house-shopping to be near members of The Brotherhood.
At the safe house, where Moore sits on this day nursing a glass of club
soda on the rocks, he is regarded as oracle, ailing older brother and
national treasure.
"He's a bit of history," offers Wendell Greene, a retired Sergeant First
Class. "I read the book when I was a rare young man. And I said, 'I'm
going to be a Green Beret.' "
Stone looks through the smoke of his cigarette and warns: "We love this
man. If ever we caught anybody taking advantage of Robin, he'd be —
well, we'd circle the wagons around Robin." A half-dozen of his fellows
nod. Some cross their forearms.
The author smiles, says he's going to live the rest of his days in the
embrace of these men.
Then he whispers, "Now I'd like some of that $10,000 scotch.'' The Green
Berets scramble to pour him about $500 worth. •
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Larry Scott
