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There was a memorial park across Hay Street and it was tightly guarded by the Fayetteville police. Two old soldiers had that as their destination, a place to watch the goings on.

They both came walking down the hill in our direction and saw the memorial cordoned off and demonstrators across the street. The first was a small black man. He watched us and our signs and our flags for several minutes before he decided that a group with lots and lots of American flags who were being given the thumbs up sign by cars passing with honking horns must be ok. He quietly infiltrated our group and stood by himself in the back. I mosied up and thanked him for joining us as I checked out the massive collection of service medals and insignia on his fatigue jacket. He had served in Viet Nam, Airborne, Ranger and lots I couldn't decipher. He had come to support the troops, specifically, his troops. His son recently returned from Iraq and his daughter soon to go. As I listened I saw a photographer taking his picture. He eased closer and closer, rapidly taking photos. He finally quit and engaged the man, getting his name and learning about the son and daughter. He was a photographer for Time. I feel certain this old soldier will make Time. He had a zillion pictures taken.

Some what later, an older man, late seventies, did the same thing. He got to the memorial and was bewildered that he could not enter it. I watched him because he looked like a bum. Dirty, unkempt, grizzled white beard and a tattered and dirty red and white ball cap. He also crossed the street and ducked under the yellow caution tape marking the boundry of our FReeper containment area. As he came close by, I could see that his green shirt was buttoned wrong. He started at the top, missing the top hole and leaving tne button at the bottom dangling. He walked among us with his head tilted back, smiling as if happy to see what we were about.

Close up I could see that his cap had two metal insignia... the wings of a paratrooper and the rifle of a combat infantry man. I spoke to him, thanking him for lending us his support and joining our group. He said nothing, just nodded his recognition. An old soldier, WW II I guess, engaged the enemy one more time.

Bert,

You are so right concerning the WWII Vet; He is perfect for Time magazine. He had exactly the face that says "real life, real hardships, real experiences".

It was just so shocking that Time magazine was even there. Who would have thought that the press releases would be so effective. I have NEVER seen such a good press turn out for one of our small town events.

The only thing different in this press release than others was the listing of a designated "press availability" time. It really helped.