TONE-DEAF PINKOS HAVE THEIR FEELINGS HURT at WALTER REED -- Week 66, July 21, '06

WASHINGTON, DC 7/21/06-- This FReep at the gates of Walter Reed Army Medical Center started out calmly enough, very much like so many others since we, the DC Chapter of Free Republic, have have been coming there every Friday night since March, 2005 to counter anti-war agitators organized by Code Pink. Nothing seemed different except the wildly enthusiastic beeps of passing cars. In summertime's long daylight, with many car windows open, the enthusiasm of the drivers for our support-the-troops rally is much easier to express. Even two DC Metro police officers patrolling the area gave us the thumbs up as they drove up Georgia Avenue, and later, as they drove back down.

As a result of our keeping the pressure on, the Pinkos have bent over backwards to obscure their malevolence towards the Administration, the soldiers and the entire idea of defending this country, not just by having adopted hypocritical signs urging better care of the soldiers, but also by having now brought more American flags -- flags that are not desecrated like ones they have brought to Walter Reed in the past, or the one they recently protested with at the White House.

So, to help passing motorists tell them apart from us, the week before we started a helpful "Burma-Shave" campaign, and mounted it again this week:

Abruptly, one of the Pinkos decided that their feelings were hurt. Free speech is only for the hate-America crowd, not for those who honor the troops and support their mission! So one of the Pinkos performed a stupid human trick and started yanking the signs off the tops of the cars, tossing them over the fence onto Walter Reed's property. Kristinn wrote about it in an earlier thread.

We went up to the gates to see about retrieving our signs, but not so fast. It seems that the Pinkos' anger management issue had generated a call by the gate guards to the U.S. Department of the Army Police, two of whom strolled down to have a talk with the Pinkos:

A friend of the Pinkos arrived on the scene after the brouhaha. A DC lobbyist, he was also an acquaintance of Debbie Does DC. Returning to his car after bringing the Pinkos some sodas, he stopped to tell her that his friend in the Pink camp "felt really bad about it." I was standing with Debbie Does DC and remarked, "It looks like they got their feelings hurt." With a chuckle, she remarked how lucky it was that was all that got hurt.

...and the FReepers carried on as usual, waving to the troops that came and went, and waiting for the bus to return that brings troops and their families back from a night on the town. Pinkos do not wait for the bus, having been visibly disdained, back in the early days of their phony pro-troops vigil, by genuine troops on the bus. FReeper rlmorel hoisted the "THIS CORNER UNDER NEW NON-COMMIE MANAGEMENT" sign, but everything else settled back to normal. Carloads of people kept honking and high-signing us, including soldiers yelling out their car windows, "Thank you!" and "We love you!" to which we shouted back, "Thank YOU! We love YOU!"

An Army active-duty sergeant from California stood next to me for awhile as he waited for a taxi with another solider from Michigan and that soldier's father. The two looked so much alike I asked if they were brothers. "Yes, but from two different mothers," he said, meaning that his comrade-iin-arms was as close as a brother. Sergeant Bientema was from the 3rd Armored Cavalry Regiment, and Spec. Litherland was from the 562 Engineers. Both had been recovering at Walter Reed. It took me a long while to notice that the sergeant had one prosthetic leg, since he was moving around so effortlessly.

"Thanks for being out here," said Sgt. Bientema. Regarding the anti-war protesters down the street, he continued, "They'll never get rid of us ground-pounders. You can't win a war without ground-pounders, whether for the fightin' or for the clean-up. Thank God for those that support us, and too bad for the ones that don't."

A young servicewoman who, with her mother and a group of other troops was also waiting for rides downtown, related that she is a medic and had been in Balad, Iraq, where there is a trauma hospital in the Iraqi combat zone. Battlefield injury patients are typically stabilized in the combat zone, then flown rapidly to longer-term care facilities such as Landstuhl, Germany or Walter Reed. This medic is now at Walter Reed for further training. "I like being here," she said, "because I get to see some of the patients I took care of in Balad. Now they are getting better."

FReepers present this week included Apple Blossom, Black Republican, bmwcyle, Cindy-True-Supporter, Debbie Does DC, Fraxinus, Gretchen15, Jack Deth, Jimmy Valentine's Brother, Just A Nobody, Kristinn, rlmorel, SenseiErn, tgslTakoma, 3D-Joy, Tom the Redhunter, [Mr & Mrs] Trooprally and myself. Lurkers included Bill from Maryland, Gavin, and his guest, Jeff.

I am from Massachusetts, and I have been following this group since I began on Free Republic.

When I first heard what these Code Pink people were doing, it horrified, angered and disgusted me. I have no problem with people protesting against the war. I disagree with them in the strongest possible terms, but I respect their right to say what they feel and to do that in public.

What I do NOT have tolerance or respect for is people who carry on this kind of negative, anti-military protest activity outside a military hospital with recuperating patients inside. There are plenty of places to appropriately carry on this kind of activity. Outside the Captiol Building. On the Mall. Outside the White House. Nearly everywhere.

But NOT in front of a hospital containing maimed troops who got that way in the defense of their country and our right to publicly state our views. NOT THERE.

This behavior, this shoddy, ungrateful treatment of injured soldiers just ate at me. When I found that there was a group of people who spent every Friday night on the street, rain or shine, wind, snow or heat, doing their level best to get a message across to the troops, I knew I had to find a way to meet them.

Every Friday night, these people stand out there to show the troops that those despicable people wearing pink and bearing signs such as "Enlist here to die for Halliburton" DID NOT SPEAK FOR THE MAJORITY OF AMERICANS, I wanted in the worst way to say a heartfelt "Thank You" to all of them, and in doing so, find a way to say "Thank you" to the men and women who serve our country at such great risk, for so little.

I finally got my chance to do so. I was told the group would form up at 1830 in front of Walter Reed Hospital, so I took the day off from work, left Massachusetts at 0900, and drove down to meet these people.

Traffic and weather were lousy, and I began to think I would arrive at 2200 or later, and I began to despair a bit. I had visions of showing up, and they would be packing up to leave, or worse, nobody would be there due to the late hour and the rainy weather.

I certainly did not know those people, the members of the DC Chapter of Free Republic.

I resolved to speed any chance I got, did not stop to eat and only stopped for the occasional bathroom break. As luck would have it, I showed up at nearly exactly 1830 in front of Walter Reed! (Timing has always been my strong point...:)

I parked my car in a line of cars pointed south on Georgia Street just past the main gate to Walter Reed, got out and walked over to a warm reception. Several were looking at me suspiciously as I walked over, and I found out that they thought I might have been a Code Pinko taking up one of "their" parking spaces! When they found out I wasn't a Code Pinko, they immediately asked if they could put a sign on top of my car, to which I readily agreed! As luck would have it, I got the last "Freeper Shave" sign which stated "Pinko Hags"...:)

What a privilege!

These folks were among the warmest, most welcoming group of people I have ever encountered anywhere. They were unified by a common distaste of what the Code Pink demonstrators were doing (protesting in front of a hospital of injured soldiers) as well as a stated support of both the troops AND the mission.

I was impressed with the universal, deep and sincere belief held by the DC Chapter Freepers that the patients inside the hospital were wholly deserving of gratitude and respect for what they had gone through, and were entitled to a chance to heal without having to see Code Pink activities from their windows.

I was a bit nervous, because I consider myself to be a pretty passionate person, subject to high emotional reactions. I was worried I might say something inappropriate to the Code Pinkos, and thereby cast a negative light on the people who so graciously welcomed me to their crowd.

To my surprise, I didn't feel anger. I felt...pity. And, I must confess, I did not expect that. And I was also gratified by the moral and behavioral high ground that the anti-Code Pink demonstrators held. There was no shouting or inappropriate behavior (EXCEPT when the Code Pinkos began acting like, well...the liberals that they are. Then there was PLENTY of shouting and plenty of appropriate behavior. To their credit, they stood right up to them!)

I was struck by the behavior of the Code Pinkos. I was not necessarily struck by the fact that they did engage in behavior I usually attribute to them, but the fact that they did it so readily and naturally. Heck, I only came down for one demonstration of a few hours, I didn't think the leopard's spots would show during the one time I got to see them in the wild. (Note: Liberals in the northeast do NOT live in the wild...it is more like a zoo or a wildlife preserve...)

Liberals would have you believe that conservatives are a heartbeat away from a Strangelovian Nazi salute, always ready to resort to some nefarious dirty trick to rob others of their right to free speech or some other essential freedom. In their view, conservatives are just itching to put on their hobnail boots and goosestep across the rights of innocent, great Amercians like the Code Pinkos.

Instead, THEY were the ones tearing down signs. THEY were the ones creepily surveilling the people who disagree with them. There was a weird woman who walked through our midst with a camera in her hand. I didn't know who she was, but she gave me the creeps. She had a look on her face as though she was on librium or some other emotion stabilizing drug. She walked by me, turned, and walked out into the roadway against the pedestrian crossing light, causing cars to have to stop for her.

I turned and saw TROOPRALLY gazing intently at this woman, and when I asked if they knew her, she gave me the whole story. Apparently, this woman takes pictures of the license plates of the cars with the aim of publishing personal information on the Internet. "How strange", I thought. "Did she really think anyone standing on that street was going to be embarrassed or shamed at their activities? Did she think it was somehow like taking pictures of Johns trying to solicit prostitutes?" It baffled me completely. Then someone told me that in their opinion, no, it wasn't for that. It was just to get personal info on the Internet in the hopes that someone else would do something unsavory with it.

But that unpleasantness aside, it was a completely wonderful, fulfilling experience. The majority of people who went by honked their horns, pumped their fists, waved, smiled, gave thumbs up and were just generally really supportive. There weren't many honks up the street at the Code Pinko area, very, very few. And we only got a few shouted negative remarks from a car window, and it turned out it was the same car going by over and over again.

The high point of the night was when the bus with the troops on it came back from Fran O'Brien's Restaurant.

Earlier, I had looked up the street, and to my surprise, I noticed the Code Pinkos were all gone. When I remarked on it, one of the veteran demonstrators caustically said "Yeah. They always bug out before the bus comes back. They KNOW they aren't appreciated and aren't wanted." How fitting. The Code Pinkos are apparently Bug Out Artists.

As the bus came down the street, the lights inside the tinted windows came on, and the troops inside could be clearly seen. They had smiles, waves, thumbs up. Some shouted "Thanks" out the window. I have to admit, it brought a lump to my throat. Why, I asked myself, would these soldiers thank us? It was WE who were, and should have been, thanking them.

I had an opportunity to talk to a young soldier at one point who had been pretty badly injured. He was in a wheelchair, a double amputee, and when he saw us, he lit right up. He came over to us and said:

"Thank you! I really appreciate what you folks are doing. I'll tell you, when I first got here, I was pretty beat up. When I was in my bed I could see out the window...and I saw those people out there with those lousy signs. I just couldn't understand it. If people want to protest, fine, that is their right, but why did they have to come HERE to do it?"

For me, that said it all, coming from the mouth of someone who has earned the right to have his opinion listened to. It is a shame, a crying shame that the DC Chapter of Free Republic has to demonstrate out in front of Walter Reed Hospital. But it is also a wonderful thing, if it is indeed necessary, as it is.

The hospitality of those who took me under their wing that night (And you know who you are!) is greatly appreciated. The next morning, I took a trip over to Arlington National Cemetery to visit my father, who is buried there. Arlington is one of the most peaceful, beautiful places in the country. I stayed with him for about an hour, just sitting in the grass. I took the time to walk along the areas of the fresh graves to say thank you, in my own way and pay respects to the young Soldiers, Marines, Sailors and Airmen who have given their lives in this conflict. The heartache is palpable, the mementos left there are scorchingly sad with loss. But they will always have the thanks and gratitude from those of us who understand Freedom is not Free.

As I drove north, I decided to visit the old Cheltenham Naval Communication Station, just a few miles from Andrews AFB where I had gone as a kid to welcome a plane load of Vietnam POW's home. My dad had been the Executive Officer on the base, and I thought I might go on the abandoned base and maybe see my old house...as I drove down the access road towards the little shack that used to house an avuncular civilian security contractor whom everyone on the base called "Pop" Soule, I saw that the shack was gone, replaced by a huge glass security area. To my right, I passed a sign that said "Department of Homeland Security Federal Training Center" (or something like that)

As I hesitantly pulled up to the gate, the security guard slid open the glass and eyeballed me.

"I lived here on this base as a kid...and thought I might come back and take a few pictures of my old house...but...that's probably not going to happen today, is it?" I said.

I saw the corners of his mouth twitch a little, and he said, not unkindly, "No, I don't think so." So I just did a U-Turn and drove away, wondering if my license plate was being recorded...:)

They always say you cannot go home again. On this day, at least, that was true. But I know that the next time I go visit the DC Freepers, it WILL be like going home again. And I plan on bring a few more Massachusetts residents with me, so everyone will know we aren't ALL danged Yankee liberals up here!

(Again, a special thanks again to TROOPRALLY (yes..both of you) and KRISTINN. You folks are just plain quality!)

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