Posted on 03/28/2007 7:28:53 AM PDT by Lady J USA 1981
Column: You sometimes must go where your heart is
By James Goldsworthy CUMBERLAND TIMES-NEWS (CUMBERLAND, Md.)
CUMBERLAND, Md. — I’ve had another chance to see America and am glad to report that it still works.
There was to be a big anti-Iraq war rally in Washington, and the word got around that some (unflattering characterization deleted) were going to vandalize the Vietnam Veterans Memorial and other veterans monuments.
That wasn’t going to happen. A nationwide “Gathering of Eagles” was formed to act as a deterrent, and my friends and I decided to join it. We took a busload, about 55 people, most of them Vietnam veterans and a few of their wives. I’d never been to an anti-anything protest, and the idea of being part of an anti-anti protest appealed to me.
I also wanted to go and stand with my friends who once wore the uniform I wish I’d been able to wear, but couldn’t. If I had been able to go with them, but didn’t, it would have made much of what I’ve said, written and done over the last 35 years a lie.
Some folks believed there would be riots, but we figured there would plenty of cops and that they would have the memorials protected. That was the case. We thanked many of these officers for what they did, and for helping to keep that place safe. They seemed like very decent men and women, and were polite and respectful.
We called the Bring-Them-Home-From-Iraq-Now folks “hippies,” for want of a better name, even though most looked like regular upper-middle class types. I didn’t see many who seemed to be spoiling for a fight.
Besides, that wasn’t why my friends and I were there. We’d decided that starting a ruckus was what some of the hippies and their buddies in the media hoped we’d do. We wanted to show a determined solidarity and support for our troops — whatever their generation — and to demonstrate that things are different today. There was some hollering back and forth, but no violence to speak of.
Most Americans have pride in our country. That includes us, and we wanted to show it. A lady who went with us joined some strangers in passing out American flags, and my friends and I got flags and carried them around all day.
The flag lady told me later that some hippies tried to get through to the Wall, but that some Vietnam vets formed a blockade and wouldn’t let them pass.
“We were probably 35 people wide and 25 to 30 deep,” she said. “I was proud to be there, because that is where my heart is. It was wonderful to see these guys standing together proudly and hugging and patting each other on the back.”
She said they began heckling one young fellow who was trying to put up a sign on which they could read, “Stop the War,” but he just laughed and joked with them. Finally, when they began telling him he ought to go to France and that they’d drive him to the airport, he figured out what was going on.
“Hey,” he said, “I’m on your side!” and turned his sign so they could read it in its entirety: “Stop the War on Troop Morale.” He said he was there on behalf of a Vietnam veteran who couldn’t be there himself.
The hippies seemed concentrated in one place, as were the hard-core Fight-Them-There-Or-Fight-Them-Here folks, and both sides had their music (the hippies’ tunes sounded Rastafarian, while the Eagles had patriotic American music) and speakers leading chants, but the rest of us split up and meandered around.
We toyed with the idea of going over to the police line that cordoned off the hippie crowd (the cops told some of us that we had them outnumbered by two or three to one) and chanting, “LESS FILLING!” to see what would happen.
Some of us wanted to go to The Wall, but there was a line waiting to go through metal detectors the police had set up. I was turned away because of a 2 1/4-inch Swiss Army knife on my keychain. It has my initials on it, an old girlfriend brought it back to me from Europe, and I use it, so I wasn’t going to abandon it. I just thanked the officer and turned back. I wasn’t upset because I understood the why for it, and neither were my friends who were rejected for similar reasons. I’ve been there before, and I’ll go there again.
It was cold and miserable, which was good because it probably kept away anybody from either viewpoint who wasn’t serious about why he was there. We went to a concession stand, where there was food and hot coffee, and the place provided a nice windbreak.
People paraded by, and some just hung around and joined us for a while. The Eagles came in all sizes, shapes and ages, but many were older guys with gray hair and beards. Some wore pieces of old uniforms or leather jackets and vests covered with military and motorcycle club insignia (including yellow patches that said, “Jane Fonda Diaper Stain.” Jane was supposed to show up for the rally, but didn’t. That was probably a good thing, because some of us had things we would like to have told her.)
Some hippies also wandered past, and most turned their signs so we couldn’t read them. They looked at us like we were tigers in a not-very-substantial cage, and they were a potential lunch. One young girl — we called her “Mouthy” — woofed at us a little bit until one of her companions grabbed her and dragged her quickly away.
Amused, I asked one of my buddies what they thought we were going to do to them.
“Hell if I know,” he said. “If they ran, we couldn’t catch them, and if they chased us, we’d never be able to get away from them. I guess we’d just have to stand and fight, and I’m too cold for that.”
Many of the veterans walked with canes or limped along. Others rode wheelchairs, and we made a point of shaking their hands and telling them, “Welcome Home.”
“A lot of those people on the other side are just kids,” said one of my friends. “They probably have no idea of what it’s like in the real world. They have no idea that they’re here and have the freedom they have because of what veterans have done for them, and that a lot of it wasn’t pretty. Do they really think that if we pull out of Iraq, all of the terrorism and other problems will just stop?”
If the world were run by people who have been in war and been shot at, and who have been wounded and watched their buddies being killed, there would be far fewer wars ... maybe none at all. But that’s not the way it is.
I told one of my friends that we were really getting to see America that day.
“That’s right,” he said. “It works pretty good, doesn’t it? Most other countries, they’d have rounded up half of the people here and hauled them away. We’re free to believe what we want to believe, and to tell other people about it.”
I watched as a lot of younger folks came up to thank the veterans for their service. It was good to see. Some of them thanked me, and even though I hadn’t served, I accepted on behalf of friends whose names are on the Wall.
Because I remembered the ugliness of the greeting my friend got when he came home from Vietnam, I asked him if he thought he’d ever get used to such a thing.
“I didn’t do anything special,” he shrugged.
He’s told me that before, but ... like I said, he’s my friend, so I don’t argue with him.
Very nice article.
"lady J"? I'm glad I'm not the only one whos name comes from a cartoon character.
Cartoon Character? *LOL* J is just short for Jackie... anyways I thought this was a very good article
I've spent a little time in Tonawanda, NY on business. This article is typical of many of the good people there.
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