In honor of Lt. Buck Compton, 1921-2012

In great sadness and tribute I write to tell of the passing late evening February 25 of Lt. Lynn “Buck” Davis Compton, one of the original Band of Brothers.

Buck was a true patriot, a valiant soldier in battle, a devoted public servant, and an honorable and caring family man.

He died peacefully and comfortably at his home in Burlington, Washington. He was 90.

Buck was born in Los Angeles on New Year’s Eve, 1921. He was named after his grandfather, Lyndley, but gave himself the nickname “Buck” in grammar school, taking a cue from a star catcher for the Angels, “Truck” Hannah.

During the Depression, Buck worked in the movies as a child actor, appearing in several films as an extra. Actor Mickey Rooney was a childhood friend.

In college, Buck was a two-sport athlete for UCLA, playing both football and baseball and excelling in both. In football, he played in the 1943 Rosebowl. In baseball, the legendary Jackie Robinson was a teammate.

When World War II broke out, Buck became an officer with the famed Easy Company, 506th PIR, 101st Airborne, the elite group of paratroopers known as the Band of Brothers. He parachuted into Normandy on D-Day, fought valiantly in Operation-Market in Holland where he was wounded, and braved the snow and ice of the battle of Bastogne. He was awarded the Silver Star for his actions during the assault on Brecourt Manor.

After the war Buck became a detective, an attorney, and later a judge. While an attorney, he successfully prosecuted Sirhan Sirhan for the murder of Bobby Kennedy.

Actor Neal McDonough portrayed Buck Compton in the HBO production of Band of Brothers. Neal and Buck stayed close friends ever after.

Buck was active long after retirement. In later years he hosted a radio commentary show and volunteered for the Skagit County Republican Party Headquarters. Four mornings each week he met for breakfast with other veterans for coffee. Buck spoke and travelled extensively, and was a staunch supporter of today’s troops.

In later years, through the influence of attorney Vance Day, Buck professed a faith in Jesus Christ. Buck’s family is confident he is in heaven today.

Buck was preceded in death by his parents and by wife Donna. He is survived by his daughters, Tracy and Syndee, his grandchildren Samantha, Lyndsie, Shannon, and Hayley, and by his beloved dog, Ernie. Buck wrote in the dedication to his memoir that his family was "the greatest thing that ever happened to me."

Two memorial services are being planned—a smaller one for the immediate family, and a larger one for the public. Dates will be announced soon.

On a personal note, I was so greatly honored to have met this man, to speak with him on many occasions, to have participated in the writing of his book, and to travel with him to several shows and signings around the country.

I can't say enough good things about him.

It hasn't sunk in yet that his physical life is passed.

This picture of Buck and me was taken by George Luz Jr. just a few weeks back, early January, at Buck's 90th birthday party. It was at the end of the party, and Buck and I shared a few quiet moments in the lobby of the building. We didn't talk much. He was tired then. But we just sat together, and that spoke volumes to me.

I deeply miss this man who came to mean so much to me.

Buck Compton--simply put, you were the greatest.

Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me

all the days of my life,

and I shall dwell in the house of the Lord

forever.

Psalm 23: 6

Think You've had a Hard Day at Work?

A few weeks back I interviewed T.I. Miller, a 92-year-old WWII veteran who fought in Guadalcanal and New Britain, and one of his stories helped put things into perspective for me when it comes to any tendency I—or anyone—might have to complain about work.

Mr. Miller came home from the war, married his childhood sweetheart, and found the only job a young man without education could get in 1945 in West Virginia—mining coal.

One of his first positions was “cleaning belt,” a dusty, heavy job done each day for hours in the belly of underground darkness.

As a sidelight, back when the troops were in the murk of the Pacific, they had encountered rats, mosquitoes, and stagnant swamps. Many men came down with malaria. Mr. Miller took his regular dose of quinine and somehow avoided the misery of an outbreak until he came back to the states.

Strange thing about malaria—you never really get over it. It camps out in a body’s spleen, Mr. Miller pointed out, and you battle it the rest of your life.

In the first ten years after the war, Mr. Miller suffered some 42 bouts of malaria—a disease that exhibited itself in fever, chills, and aches so bad you thought your body was going to rattle apart, he said. The disease can strike without warning, anytime, anywhere.

One day Mr. Miller was down in the coalmine cleaning belt when he felt a malarial fever coming on. He mind swirled in delirium, and the resulting hallucinations reflected the horror he’d faced during the war.

He recorded the experience in his 2001 self-published book titled War and Work.

One day as I shoveled, the old chill began to shake me, and the sweat stood out on my forehead. The black coal dust mingled with the salty taste, and I wiped my face with a dirty glove.

I glanced over at the moving belt and blinked my eyes. I shook my head to clear it, and looked again. A dead Japanese soldier rode by on the belt.

I grabbed a timber, shook myself, and began to count silently. One, two, three, four, five, six. I was here. I was there.

There went some more bodies on the belt. Again I blinked, shook myself, and began repeating, “I am here. I am here.”

Mr. Miller knew he needed to get to the surface—fast. Another miner sensed he was in trouble and helped him get up to sun. In the daylight, the apparitions disappeared, and Mr. Miller spent the next 20 days in the VA hospital recovering from his fever. 

Thinking about that story helps me put what I do for a living into perspective.

Today might have been a difficult day at work.

But at least I’m not down in the darkness of a coalmine fighting off malarial attacks while having hallucinations of dead Japanese soldiers.

A thought like that goes a long way toward me being grateful.

Question: What are you most thankful for at your work?

How to have a Happy Marriage in 15 Seconds a Day

VALENTINE’S DAY AND BEYOND SPECIAL

Gather ‘round boys, and listen in.

This here piece of advice I got years ago from Crazy Ned Van der Meyer, an 88-year-old Holstein farmer living on a lushly plowed dirt patch in Custer, Washington.

Crazy Ned had fathered six kids and been happily hitched to the same good woman since he was 20 and she was 17.

He knew powerful secrets about marriage, he said.

Yet what Crazy Ned told me sounded too easy to be true, and when I dared question its credibility, Crazy Ned grinned like a Buick and answered cryptically, “Well, when it comes to thick headedness and wise living, you know the Dutch.”

I just shrugged.

“Here’s what you do,” Crazy Ned said, his voice hushed to a whisper. “When you come home from work each day, the first thing you do inside the front door is give your wife a 15 second kiss on the lips.”

I nodded, waiting for the rest of the advice.

“That’s it,” Crazy Ned said flatly.

“That’s it?” I asked.

“You might want to chomp a stick of Wrigley’s so you don’t taste like a coffee cup,” Crazy Ned added, “and as yer kissing her you can count to 15 in yer mind if you want. Picture it—fifteen seconds is a long time when it comes to a daily smooch. Scientists will tell you it sets the chemicals in yer brain to firing. But I don’t know nothing about science. I just figure it sets both of your dispositions right, and everything else good will come from that.”

Years have passed, and Crazy Ned Van der Meyer is gone now. In his honor, I’m passing along that advice from Crazy Ned to you and letting it stand.

First thing inside the front door, greet your significant other with a 15-second kiss on the lips.

Go on, give it a try.

Question: What other sound marriage advice have you heard?

Neal McDonough Leads Well

I want to put in a good word for actor Neal McDonough. I don’t claim to know the man. Not closely, anyway. But what I’ve seen of him, I admire.

A few years back I was the writing collaborator for Lt. Buck Compton’s memoir, Call of Duty. Neal had portrayed Buck in the HBO miniseries Band of Brothers, so I contacted Neal to gather input for the book’s epilogue.

Lt. Buck Compton and Neal McDonough.

Neal was in France at the time shooting a movie, and he and I spoke by phone for about 30 minutes, then corresponded by e-mail several more times as the edits of the epilogue were passed back and forth.

Neal talked about how Buck Compton had changed his life in two big ways. Before Neal landed the role in Band of Brothers, he had been acting in professional roles for about a decade but hadn’t done anything major, just independent films and smaller roles. He’d even considered giving up acting and had moved from Hollywood back to his hometown of Cape Code to reevaluate his career.

Band of Brothers landed huge, and after portraying Buck, Neal McDonough’s phone never stopped ringing. He went on to act in a number of hit movies and TV shows including Flags of Our Fathers, Minority Report, Boomtown, and Justified. He’s the Paul Newman of our generation.

Another big life change for Neal has a connection to the filming of Band of Brothers, and to his travel to London for the project. On his first day in the city, he and two friends were in a pub where Neal met a beautiful 6’3” model from South Africa named Ruvé Robertson. They were married in 2003 and today have four young children.

A few weeks back, Buck Compton turned 90, and a big birthday celebration was held for him in Burlington, Washington, his hometown. Neal and Ruvé, along with James Madio, Michael Cudlitz, and Richard Speight, Jr. (three other actors from Band of Brothers) flew up from Los Angeles for the day to wish him well. It was the first time I had met Neal in person, and he greeted me with a big hug.

We didn’t have the opportunity to talk much, as the party was packed. But what stood out to me was how gracious, gentle, and honoring Neal was toward his wife throughout the event. Neal spoke from the mic and thanked Buck profusely. If it wasn’t for Buck, Neal would have never met Ruvé. Neal spoke through tears, and when he came off the stage, he gave Ruvé a passionate kiss.

Skeptics would say he was showboating because of the crowd. But I doubt it. Here’s why.

In 2010, Neal lost some $1 million USD because he refused to do a sex scene in ABC’s series Scoundrels. The script called for him to make love on screen with co-star Virginia Madsen. Neal said no and was fired. (He had also turned down sex scenes with Nicollette Sheridan when acting in Desperate Housewives.)

Critics had a field day. They called Neal McDonough a prude, a fool, and a hypocrite. He’d do scenes involving violence, just not sex.

Whatever.

I doubt if Neal’s a goody-two-shoes. And you’ve got to be smart to make it in his career. I’d venture to say he doesn’t object to doing violent scenes because there’s no doubt in his mind he’s acting in those. In everyday life, he doesn’t struggle with the temptation of grabbing a gun and killing a man.

But Neal knows he’s red-blooded, same as any man. Hollywood has got a horrible track record of infidelity. Neal doesn’t do sex scenes because he wants to safeguard his integrity. That’s plain smart.

When it comes to Hollywood, you can have your rudeness, your bad taste, your impropriety. But I’ll take an actor any day with a generous heart, dignity, and style.

Neal McDonough, I raise my glass.

May you continue to lead well.


Question: what traits do you admire most in a man?