I don't have to tell you that I performed Singing Valentines
again this year, but I do want to tell you the story about the most unique one
I've ever done. In all, my quartet sang
between forty and fifty 2-song Singing Valentines. We sang twice to men from their wives (embarrassing), once to a
woman from her life partner, also female (weird), and to several mothers and
children. But the neatest and strangest
one was a performance on the Army Post at Fort Gordon.
We got a request to sing at a remote firing range for a
group of women that call themselves "The Machine Gun Fun Club" and
they truly live up to their name. The
request came from the husbands, and the message on each card we presented to
the women was the same: "You are the 'tracer fire' of my life!"
We had instructions and directions to the firing range some
ten miles out in the wilderness of the fort.
We were met by an advance member of the party about a mile from the
firing range. He advised that we had to
wait for about fifteen minutes for the range to "go cold" -
ceasefire, for those of you not familiar with the terminology. Otherwise, we
would have needed ear protection and other safety equipment to proceed.
Once the call came through that it was safe, we followed the
escort truck over the sandy road. Our
minivan nearly got mired in the sand, but we made it the the site without the
need for a tow.
What greeted us was a group of men and women around a small
trailer with a huge machine gun mounted on it pointed down range. Several other
similar guns were arrayed along the firing line. Looking down the range provided quite a sight! The closest target, a tank, was 800 meters
away and there were other vehicles and targets up to 1600 meters distant.
I couldn't even see them with the naked eye. Of course, the cloud of tracer fire smoke didn't help,
either. I wondered who put out all
those brush fires so they don't spread after the firing is all done.
It turned out that the trailer was set up as our 'stage', so
we climbed onto it, not without some assistance, and stood around the machine
gun to perform our Singing Valentines.
Needless to say, it's rather cumbersome and strange to arrange
yourselves into the barbershop quartet arc around a four-foot-long lethal weapon
like that.
The names of the gals were almost as much fun as the
setting; names like Brandy and Bongh, Song Cha and Bring . . . I didn't make
those up, either. We distributed cards
and roses by the military mail call method amidst much laughter, and then we
sang, or rather shouted the two Valentine songs. You see, there was a 20-mph, 40-degree wind blowing, filled with
that smoke from the tracer round fires out on the range.
After the performance there were hugs amongst the group and
pictures, including the one below.
Notice that the machine gun is pointing at yours truly, and at a very
vulnerable part of my anatomy. I was
thankful that the gun wasn't loaded and being manned - or should I say
"(wo)manned" at the time.
A good time was had by all, and no, we didn't stay to
participate in, or watch the target practice, much as I would have liked to. Instead, we drove back to civilization with
smiles on our faces and laughter in our hearts. It was the pièce de résistance for the whole Singing
Valentines experience. I can't wait
till next year!
