by W.H. Harrod
~~ Chapter Twenty-Six
The good spirited jousting between Allison and Sam continued all the way back to the professor’s house. As far as Allison could determine, Sam radiated with his newfound interest in Lia. She decided to curb her skepticism and her motherly instincts and be more supportive of her friend’s new sense of optimism. Walking up the steps to the apartment, she realized she hadn’t thought about any of the things that concerned her earlier. Maybe she worried too much; maybe things weren’t so bad after all.
This new optimism lasted until the door to the apartment swung open revealing both Ernest and Bobby standing up and gesturing towards the television.
“The fool went and did it! They’re blowing the hell out of the place, again,” stated Ernest as he shook his head from side to side.
“Yes sir, the shit’s in the rotor blades now, boys, and soon it’s going to be stinking up the whole place,” said Bobby to no one in particular.
Allison’s heart fell through her chest all the way down to her ankles. Earlier she’d felt so optimistic, and now, the world sucked again. She stood with her friends and stared in awe at the television images of giant explosions in the city of Baghdad. Allison observed every person in the room talked simultaneously, yet she made no effort to understand what they said. She was having an out of body experience. She saw an image of herself depressed and unmoving on the couch while her companions stood talking excitedly to themselves. She wondered why she didn’t tell her friends to sit down and shut up so they could hear the talking heads on the tube tell them this was a mistake, that these weren’t actual images of U.S. planes bombing a city filled with millions of civilians but were images of the first Gulf War. In the end she didn’t, and the talking heads on the screen didn’t. It was real after all and happening right before her disbelieving eyes.
The next distinct event occurred when the President came on television at 7:15 p.m. and started speaking. “My fellow citizens, at this hour, American and coalition forces are in the early stages of military operations to disarm Iraq, to free its people, and to defend the world from grave danger.”
Allison’s mind locked on to the last words in the paragraph. What? What weapons of mass destruction have been found that we have to defend the rest of the world from? A world, by the way, that mostly detests our very existence and sends its citizens into the streets in jubilation each time some kind of catastrophe befalls our country or our soldiers and citizens. Why is it up to our young military sons and daughters to win those people their freedom? Why don’t they rise up and fight and die for their own freedom? Do the citizens of Vietnam appreciate our young men who died for their right to be free? How about Korea? Do they regularly celebrate the sacrifice of the thousands of young Americans who died for their freedom? No! They don’t, and these people won’t either.
“To all the men and women of the United States Armed Forces now in the Middle East, the peace of a troubled world and the hopes of an oppressed people now depend on you.”
What a crock! Allison could only catch bits and pieces as her mind kept getting hung up on particular statements. A bunch of incompetent politicians who up to this point displayed much more interest in the well-being of the huge multi-national corporations than they have the citizens of our country and have the gall to place the responsibility for paying for their own political ascendancy as well as ineptitude in foreign affairs onto the shoulders of the brave men and women who joined the military to protect their country, not serve the misguided and selfish interest of the current administration.
“We have no ambition in Iraq, except to remove a great threat and restore control of that country to its own people.”
No ambitions! What a bunch of crap! It’s the oil, stupid! We’re going to send our children to this miserable place to suffer and die for many years to come to protect the rights of a bunch of fat-assed people to drive around twenty-four hours a day in gas guzzling vehicles to malls or to the gym for aerobics or to travel two hundred miles roundtrip to work in the city from a two acre suburban spread that requires a smog belching tractor to mow the grass twice weekly. That’s our real ambition. As far as restoring control of the country to the people, unless you consider tribal monarchies and military coups as representative forms of government, those people won’t have any idea as to what we would be restoring to them. They have absolutely no comprehension of the responsibilities a democratic form of government entails.
“We will meet that threat now, so that we do not have to meet it later with armies of firefighters and police and doctors on the streets of our cities.”
Allison, especially, resented this pathetically weak tactic, although it must be having some success as they continue to employ it. There is not any credible evidence that Saddam Hussein has ever backed or supported terrorists. The man is a mass murderer of his own people and a criminal. He is a businessman. He’s in it for the power and the money. Why would anyone think this guy would want to invite the totally disruptive influences of a bunch of religious fanatics into his country to cause trouble either there or abroad? How would that serve his criminal purpose? Common sense says it doesn’t, and there is no evidence that it happened.
“…we will accept no outcome but victory.”
This was the last straw for Allison. These are big words for a man who will never have to back them up personally. For a man who many believe deserted his post during a time of war. While other men and women his age were fighting and dying in the mud thousands of miles from home, this guy lived the good life, nowhere to be found. For a person of this low character to send the nation’s finest young citizens off to fight and die in a war that is contrived is inconceivable. What has this nation done to itself and the world?
The leader of the free world disappeared as quickly from the screen as he appeared. Unlike earlier when everyone in the room jabbered away as the talking heads returned, this time it was quiet. They saw the images of bombs exploding over the city of Baghdad, and now the guy in charge of our country confirmed that the war was on. The group’s mission to keep this country from going to war now had a new purpose. From now on, their job was to stop the bleeding -- stop the bleeding of our young men and women as well as the thousands of Iraqi civilians who were at that moment on the receiving end of the bombs being dropped.
I wonder if that guy leading the charge from the safety of the White House is saying his prayers and asking for God’s direction, wondered Allison. What kind of a so-called Christian drops bombs on civilians in the middle of the night? What kind of a Christian lies to his fellow citizens and then uses the good offices of his country for the purpose of engaging its military forces in the wholesale slaughter of human life for the personal benefit of his corporate benefactors or to ensure that millions of pampered and abusive consumers of the world’s increasingly scarce oil reserves are assured of having an ample supply to keep their SUVs on the streets and jets in the sky taking them away to weekend vacations in Vegas or Cancun? What kind of a Christian sacrifices the lives of our brave young men and women, without hesitation, upon the altar of corporate greed and conspicuous personal consumption?
Allison determined long ago that there are different kinds of Christians. There are the ones who believe they are not here to judge; they are here to help. Their help did not stop at another person’s color or religion or politics. They believe there is a God and it was God’s job to do the judging, if any was ever done. This kind of Christian’s job was merely to carry water, to help whoever needed help without question, and to look out for the welfare of his fellowman. These people brought joy and hope wherever they traveled and, in Allison’s opinion, were in short supply.
Then there are the kinds of so-called Christians that believe their primary responsibility deal with pointing out character flaws in others. They spend their time finding archaic and often dubious sources of justification for their small-minded hatefulness. These are not happy people, and they certainly do not bring joy to the lives of ot
hers, much less strangers in need. They act as if their entire lives are built around the ideas of judging and hating. On the contrary, these people cause the prospects of other people to grow brighter, exponentially, upon their departure from the planet.
Allison thought that too often religion and government merely institutionalized the individual’s responsibilities that go along with being alive and part of humanity. Many people recognized no need to seek out their fellowman to offer help, believing that having contributed to the church offering plate or paying their taxes exempted them from future responsibilities. These are the same people you hear lamenting the fact that dirty homeless people are wandering around the streets while they drive their new automobiles to the mall or to a professional sports contest where obscenely rewarded athletes will be bouncing, hitting, or kicking a ball in games originally thought up to entertain children. They want to know who is going to do something about these unsightly homeless people. What’s happening to the money the hardworking taxpayers and church contributors gave so graciously? They feel they deserve better than having to put up with looking at this stuff.
“How about checking one of the local channels to see what’s happening around here?” asked Allison, shaking it off.
Bobby ran the remote control through its paces until he came to a San Francisco station. Without question, they were close to the action. The station aired a tape of the speech plus commentary, of course, but they also reported news relating to the attitudes and activities of people in the bay area. Not a single individual confronted on the streets had anything positive to say about the start of the bombing and most of the interviewees were outright hostile towards the idea. Allison suspected that there were war supporters in the area, but still it felt good to see so many citizens step up and express their disproval.
There were also reports of hundreds of protestors running around the city’s financial district for most of the day disrupting activities. Despite the rain, they marched from downtown to the heart of the Mission District chanting slogans opposed to a pre-emptive attack by the United States. The protesters, with their drums, banners and whistles, made as much noise as possible while police lines blocked off intersections. Police motorcycles followed behind as helicopters flew overhead. As this was going on, shop owners and patrons watched cautiously hoping not to get caught in a sudden upsurge of violence always possible on these occasions.
In Berkeley, the reaction reportedly was limited to about thirty students blocking off one of the major avenues coming into the university. While they did manage to block traffic at times, in the end, it would have to be considered a fairly pathetic effort considering this was Berkeley, the place that both a former governor of California and J. Edgar Hoover condemned for its protesting and swore to make an example of years earlier. The evening ended without a single confrontation with the police and with the protestors joining hands at a candlelight vigil. Possibly tomorrow more typical activity might be expected as tonight the “Berkeley Stop the War Coalition” met to make plans, which reportedly included occupying an administrative building at the university.
“Looks like we won’t have to go far tomorrow to get a lesson in the art of civil dissent, does it?” asked Sam. “We can walk to the place from here, can’t we?”
Allison, deep in thought, only belatedly became aware that Sam looked to her for a response.
“That’s right. All we have to do is walk back down that hill, take a right for a couple more blocks, and we’ll be right in the middle of it. I’m impressed by how calm the protestors were around the entire bay area today. I hope everyone follows their example and keeps the protest peaceful. The university is on record as being opposed to any war, so I don’t see what can be accomplished by crapping in your own nest. I’m beginning to think that maybe the most important thing we can do for the protests while we are here is try to keep them peaceful. What do you guys think?” Allison waited for some response.
Sam held up the two finger peace sign, and Bobby nodded in agreement. Ernest merely reiterated his earlier position. “I don’t protest. Besides, I have an important matter to look into tomorrow. I’ll stick to watching the tube and getting updates from you guys. Keep in mind your heads are not as malleable as they were when you were younger, so try to keep them from coming into contact with heavy sticks if any young bucks get a little wild tomorrow, okay?”
Both Allison and Sam winced at the suggestion, plus Allison recoiled at the thought of her old friend, the professor, dying not far away. She wanted to see him, to thank him once more for helping to save her life in ‘69, but she dreaded the thought of seeing him this way. She preferred the ageless image she kept all these years of the tireless social warrior with the pony tail who wandered around the community promoting goodwill and smoking a little pot with the students once in awhile.
“I wonder if Lia will be at the protest tomorrow?” asked Sam bringing Allison back to the present.
Allison could not believe the audacity of the man. “Sam, the lady is practically crippled at the moment. I wouldn’t get my hopes up on that one.”
Sam took this information in stride, but Allison could tell he was not about to give up on the idea of meeting Lia again.
“The only thing I want to know about right now is where are the ground troops?” commented Bobby to no one in particular. “At some point, they are going to have to get boots on the ground and that’s when this whole thing is going to get a lot more personal to me. You mind turning it back to CNN. They’ll have that information first, I expect.”
As Allison did as Bobby asked, she, too, began to think about the young American soldiers that either were already in danger or were about to be put there. She absolutely hated the thought of American military personnel getting injured and killed in this unnecessary war. This brought up another very good question, one she needed to bring up for discussion with Bobby. It was one thing to protest against sending our troops into combat, but it was another thing, all together, to stand in the street and protest against an ongoing war, which is in essence a protest against our soldiers being in the war. How would a former soldier like Bobby, who knew how important it was for people at home to appreciate a soldier’s great sacrifice, react in such a situation?
“Bobby, have you ever protested a war while American servicemen were in the field fighting?” asked Allison who could see by Bobby’s response that he had not. “What’s your thinking about this? Is this something you can do? Is it something you think we should be doing?”
This time Bobby didn’t take a lot of time to answer. “As the image flashes across my mind, the idea makes me sick. I know what it felt like when I was back in the Nam, and I would read about the protesting going on back home. I felt angry, and I felt abandoned. To answer your questions, ‘Is this something I can do?’ or ‘Is it something we should be doing?’ I’m gonna have to sort this whole thing out in my mind.”
Allison knew enough to allow him all the time he needed. She directed her attention back to the screen and its nonstop in-depth coverage of the early stage of the country’s newest war. Allison noticed that the talking heads seemed much more relieved since their particular areas of military or political expertise were going to be showcased to the millions of frightened Americans. Frightened by what? Losing the war? This made no sense, nor did losing a loved one serving in the military. The possibility of a citizen of this country having a family member serving in a combat area is something like seven in ten thousand. There is not a strong likelihood of that happening. Why then were most of the citizens of this country apprehensive at the prospect of destroying a tyrant, along with most of his country, ten thousand miles away?
Allison readily identified the reasons why war protestors like her would be anxious. To start with, killing in general is considered by most civilized people to be a bad thing. As the poster child for all that is supposedly fair and good and right in the world, destroying the lives of thousands of human beings for the purpose of secur
ing natural resources for the future benefit of our country is, also, a bad thing. Lastly, things change, and in the case of our country’s long term prospects, things looked worse all the time. Practically everything we needed in the way of raw materials to allow our economy to function was located in remote places around the world, far distant from our shores. Our heavy handedness in our insistence upon what forms of government other countries establish, and how much of their natural resources they made available for our insatiable consumer appetite was wearing very thin. The one single thing the U.S.A. was doing better than any other country around the world right now was pissing people off. Simply put, Allison and many other citizens preferred that our country stop killing people or making the ones they don’t kill angry.
What about the war supporters? Why do people who feel that this is a just war feel afraid? There seems no chance of losing, and odds are they don’t have a relative in the military. They don’t even know anyone who has a relative in the military. Why would people give a rip about foreigners getting angry if they believe our country holds the sacred position as benefactor and protector of the free world and deserves to have access to the essential raw materials required to allow our economy to function at this exaggerated level? Why are these people afraid?
A very interesting question, Allison surmised as she pondered the potential possibilities that occurred to her. Somehow though, she couldn’t get comfortable with the notion that the answer involved a whole lot of complicated psychology. Maybe it was something simpler. Try as they might to convince themselves that our country is justified in taking more than our share, or taking something by force that we feel we need or deserve, in the end maybe they are afraid because they know at the bottom of their soul it isn’t the right thing to do.
“You know,” said Bobby, finally getting back to Allison on the original question, “I heard many times that hindsight is one hundred percent, and I believe that applies in my case. I’ve had over thirty years to think about how so many people stood in the streets opposing the war I fought in. Looking at it from that point, I hated those people. I felt they betrayed the soldiers our country had sent to war. Out of all my thinking about this over the years when I was sober enough to think, it came down to one issue. Would American lives have been saved if protestors had not gone into the streets? After a lot of soul searching, I now have no doubt that the Vietcong and the NRA were ready to fight to the very last man, woman, and child. We were foreign invaders interfering in their affairs. If we had not been so arrogant, we would have paid attention to the fact that the people of Vietnam had fought for the last two thousand years to drive invaders from their land. Even with all of our technology, we never had a chance to defeat their history. They would have fought forever and suffered any amount of hardship.”
“If the government had admitted their mistake and brought us home earlier, I believe my crew would be alive today. So, I will be with you in the streets tomorrow. This time our government must be made to listen. The lives of thousands of young men and women are at stake.”
Bobby got up from the couch, picked up his fatigue jacket, and headed for the door to go outside. Allison watched him make his way across the room. She never felt prouder or more beholden to an individual in her life. With Bobby, there was no flash or style to impress you, there was only his doing. He didn’t say much and, probably, he didn’t do much, but when he did something or said something, it mattered. And if you were the least bit intelligent, you paid attention.
Following Bobby’s exit from the room, Allison reflected on her own periods of doubt over the years regarding this subject. It was not easy for a person who loved their country to stand up and deny support to her neighbors, friends, and fellow citizens when those individuals were put in uniform, handed a gun, and sent abroad to affect this country’s misguided foreign policies. How many times had she heard, “When our troops are defending our country, it is not the time for protest,” or “Oppose the war if you must, but support the troops.” Allison toiled with the dilemmas created by such propositions. In the first instance, the operative phrase was “when the troops are defending our country.” Who in their right mind would not support the individuals who go forth to preserve the existence of our country and its citizens? Something is wrong when this defense clause is abused by extending it to encompass pre-emptive wars such as Iraq where no actual danger has been proven to exist. Something was wrong when it was used in Vietnam to justifying the deaths of fifty-eight thousand Americans and millions of Vietnamese when the so-called “Domino Theory” predicted that if we did not fight them over there, then one day we would be fighting them here.
Allison was familiar with the more devious reasoning put forth by supporters of illegal and unjust wars in urging protestors to “Oppose the war if you must, but support the troops.” At first glance, it appears a seemingly attractive solution to the fair-minded protestor’s dilemma. When given more scrutiny however, problems develop. Asking protestors who oppose an unjust war to support the troops fighting the war is in effect asking protestors to drop their opposition to the war. While one certainly does not want harm to come to our country’s soldiers, one cannot exhort our military to carry out the unjust policies of an administration that has expropriated the resources of our country for the ultimate benefit of a select few in the government and corporate elite. This will undoubtedly be seen as a betrayal by many and almost certainly by members of the military who are fighting, but it is essential that the protestors do not falter because history has shown that thousands of military lives can be saved by holding steadfast to the truth. The best way to support our troops is to bring them home as quickly as possible and to realize that the costs already incurred in lives and money are not reversible by the insistence of our misguided leaders in investing more lives and money in an unjust and unnecessary war. The answer is to bring the surviving troops home and do everything we can as individuals and as a civilized society to prevent future administrations from using our military personnel as cannon fodder for the purpose of prosecuting their own illegal and socially destructive agendas.
From across the room Allison heard Sam’s voice. “I have a feeling in my gut this is going to be a long and dirty war.”
Allison wanted to jump up and dispute his remark as she hated the sound of those words and their horrible implications. Instead, she unconsciously began humming a favorite CCR song she often listened to back in ‘69:
I see the bad moon rising
I see trouble on the way
I see earthquakes and lightnin’
I see bad times today.
