Back in the early days of September, 1974, just as our young family had settled in for a fun weekend of activities around our home in Kingston, Massachusetts, I received a phone call from one of my unit leaders of the National Guard 772 Military Police Company, Plymouth Detachment informing me that I was to report immediately to the Plymouth Armory for a temporary additional duty assignment to Boston for crowd and riot control during the fast approaching opening of the controversial school integration plan for South Boston High School.
This engagement (plus a second one) with thousands of troops and police personnel was to come to me later, also in Boston, to deal with the devastating results of the snowstorm that would become known as the famous "Blizzard of '78."
How on earth could I ever possibly have gotten myself involved in two earth-shaking events such as these? I had already served my tour in the Marine Corps, a commitment of at least eight years. I had completed my tour of duty, which included Beirut, Lebanon, and other angry places. Polly and I had had started a family, but I guess all that mattered was for me to get to Plymouth, climb aboard one of those behemoth olive drab trucks, and convoy our way up Route 3 into Boston.
I am constantly reminded of earlier events this month in Washington, DC, where National Guard Military Police are stationed and on patrol. Our duty missions were different, but the assignments to protect public safety and each other were still quite dangerous and politically explosive, as we found out during activations for the school integration and Blizzard of '78 operations.
It seemed like we spent an eternity involved with those two assignments. I believe each event was a total of two weeks or so on the street. Both were entirely unfriendly with the local masses, confusing, and when you deal with the public who usually operate by their own set of rules or laws, it placed members of our units right in the middle.
We had the whole universe against us, it seems. The weather during The Blizzard of '78 was horrendous and dangerous, with deep, windblown snow and frigid temperatures, and many constraints were placed on the residents we came in contact with. They were not happy about their situations, our presence, the weather, and the politically charged, hostile attitudes of people who believed we were on their territory to harm them or enforce rules and dictates they did not like or agree with. Still, we knew rules were either state or federal law, and they must be followed whether or not we were pleased to do so.
We slept on the floors of various police stations, we ate whenever we had a chance, and sometimes the Boston Tactical Police Force members would take some of us home with them at night, if possible, and we could enjoy a home-cooked South Boston dinner, real coffee, and delight in talking with children, spouses, the neighbors, and others. It provided an essential break for us on each occasion that we were sent into their neighborhoods during school segregation duty or to fight the Blizzard of '78 with snow up to our beltlines.
Eventually, the National Guard troops stationed on the streets in Washington, DC, will return home to their families, just as we did from duty during the school integration rioting or the deep snows of New England's Blizzard of '78.
Over the many years since those two events, I have spoken privately or publicly to many groups and individuals about the results of those two activations that called up the local small home-town National Guard Military Police units and placed them on a federal level that included dealing with rioting, unruly crowds, building fires, thefts, a few deaths, and many other activities that occurred during the times were in Bean Town for those actions.
Interestingly, over the years, there has been considerable interest among close friends and relatives in those two assignments. Our National Guard Military Police left no extraordinary unit legacy on the streets of Boston. We all merely returned home and resumed our everyday lives with our kids, families, jobs, and friends.
The most important part of our family activities after I returned home was to vamoose out of Massachusetts and head north to live in the Granite State, an action that had to be cast aside while I was completing my official National Guard activities.
In 1978, interestingly, we made our move northward, right in the time frame that included my Boston participation with the Blizzard of '78. Terrible timing, but we made the move happen.
By the time all the snow had melted and everything was running as expected, the Marvin family did move northward and were able to nestle into our wonderful 1775 farmhouse in Haverhill Corner. Several years later, we were able to move a bit south, this time to our new log home in Piermont, where I sit here at this moment and write another of my Bernie's Beat columns, sip hot coffee, and enjoy the sweetness of life as I know it now.
Alas, it is snowing outside, but no matter how deep it snows or how high the winds may blow, I am not going anywhere. It matters not to me how Boston fares with this latest storm. I pour more hot coffee for my prolonged session of looking out my window onto the winter scene in front of me. No, nay, never, no more will I ever return to Boston.

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