November 28, 2001

Motorcycle rolling memorial

Norm Schaub creates custom Harley to honor fallen soldiers

By Carol South
Herald contributing writer
       Norm Schaub has finally come home.
      Riding his Harley last August from Jackson to Lansing, the Cedar resident and his wife, Carol, were part of an escort accompanying the main beam of the Michigan Vietnam Memorial from the factory to the memorial site.
      Spontaneously, along the route, hundreds of people turned out on overpasses to fly flags, hold up banners and cheer the veterans riding in the procession. It was a heartwarming sight for the former Marine sergeant who served two 13-month tours in Vietnam in the mid-1960s.
      "It was a good feeling, we were definitely welcome home," said Schaub, in his low-key way.
      The 1991 Harley-Davidson lowrider Schaub rode in the procession is no ordinary bike, it made a statement of its own. A statement others noticed and invited Schaub to ride in the dedication ceremony for the Michigan Vietnam Memorial, held on Veteran's Day in Lansing.
      These rides provided Schaub the perfect opportunity to recognize the names on the bike, names of Marines who were killed in action during four bloody months of his 1965-66 in-country tour.
      "I just wanted to make my own personal wall," said Schaub, who rides the bike when he can, refusing to preserve it just for show.
      Named 'Sarge,' the bike lists names of men from the 3rd Battalion, 1st Marines killed during that period. Schaub also had a local artist paint on the gas tank a vivid depiction of a battle scene from a one-day campaign, Operation Texas, which had a 70 percent casualty rate.
      Sergeant stripes, a cobra (he was Cobra team leader of a four-man special ops group), bullet hole decals and an M-14 cartridge as a key chain round out Schaub's commemorative statement.
      Schaub has also tied a POW-MIA flag to the bike's handlebars, refusing to give up on fellow servicemen left behind.
      "I don't want the POW-MIAs to be forgotten, not until every one of them is home," he added.
      A lifelong rider, Schaub spent the last three years turning his motorcycle into a mobile memorial to his fellow marines.
      "This bike project started out slow and just kept growing," said Schaub, owner of Powerhouse Gym in Traverse City. "A lot of people helped me and I just got it completed this summer."
      Carol Schaub, his wife of 34 years, said the project has been healing for her husband. The couple first painstakingly restored Schaub's 1966 racing bike, which he used for flat track races after returning from the war. Painting it red, white and blue, emblazoned with Stars and Stripes, they aptly named it the 'Patriot.'
      Work on the 'Patriot' sowed the seeds for 'Sarge,' she said. When Norm Schaub saw a listing of names of men killed on a 3rd Battalion, 1st Marines website, the idea gelled.
      "Norm did this for those guys," said Carol Schaub, who met Norm on a blind date shortly after he returned from Vietnam. "Think of it, these were 17-, 18- and 19-year old kids who died."
      "The whole point of this bike is that we don't want it to have been in vain."
      Calling himself a typical farm boy who always hunted, the Lake Leelanau native joined the Marines after high school with four of his buddies. Thrilled to fulfill a lifelong dream of become a marine, at that time Schaub had never even heard of Vietnam. Sent to Okinawa for his first tour of duty, he was on the edges of a conflict that was quickly heating up. By the time his second tour began, it was a hot war.
      Those who survived are now seeking out their fellow Marines they served with, many of whom they lost track of during the war.
      Three years ago, Norm reestablished contact with his former commanding officer, who made a career in the Marines and became a general. He and Carol have visited him a few times and had planned to attend a reunion of the 3rd Battalion, 1st Marines but it was cancelled after the September 11 terrorist attacks.
      Also, just this weekend, Schaub received a surprise phone call from another sergeant he had not heard from in 35 years.
      "We all kind of shoved it aside, tried to forget everything," Schaub said. "But now we're in our 50s and want to remember."