photo by John Grant

“Walkin’ to New Orleans”
...in Summation

As I begin, I am exhausted. The tops of my ears are peeling from sunburn. Sitting here at this keyboard, one wonders if it was real. We just did something along the Gulf Coast with this march we spent the last two months coordinating, but I haven't had time to reflect enough on it to see the different facets of what just happened. I just know something did. I hope others who participated, will read this and post comments to say what they think happened, because I wasn't alone in thinking that something did.

We did not suddenly catalyze anything, but we also did not engage in some kind of action where each person's responsbility was just to show up to enlarge a protest, then go home. Something with a longer lifespan than than has taken an embryonic form, and it feels tangible even when I haven't had time to sort out exactly what it is. I already miss the people who were there.

We came to life each morning like a flower opening to the sun, steadily and gradually. Grumble's cowboy-coffee container was a gravitational field that drew us in like particles from the multilucent peaks and domes of our tent-towns. With the first hot sips, people holding their bodies tightly against the chill shared their little experiences with fire ants, cold, heat, or something dislocative they might have seen the day before, and healed each other with laughter.

Then there was food and the resumption of conversations from the day before. More laughter. Occasionally, some tears, whereupon one, two, even three people might embrace. When one of the Iraq vets shed a tear, six, seven, or eight would fold around him… or her… as if their combined hearbeats and heat would drive out sadness and distress.

And the walking. There is nothing that compares to walking, in my opinion, for stimulating the circuits in one's head; something about spinning the earth along under your feet like a log roller that creates a kind of muscular background music and the scenery that goes past becomes a spiritual setting. After a while, when the blisters and sore metatarsals and general fatigue take form, anything gradiose that might have contaminated one's consciousness is trimmed away with the knowledge that in the end, it all comes down to bodies — to the limitations of bodies, the capacities of bodies, the caring for bodies, the recognition of bodies.

In a large group like this, from 120 to 300, pick your day — it fluctuated — one talks while s/he walks, listens, collects and offers little scraps of acquaintence that accumulate into nascent friendships… contextualized by that body-knowledge, by the rhythm of walking, by the rolling of the earth under our feet in the same direction, and by the steady stream of change that flows past us.

Even when that scenery is of loss and disorder.

Especially when that scenery is of loss and disorder.

And there was dancing. We danced down the Gulf Coast. Ask anyone who was there. We danced in Prichard. We danced along the highway during breaks when the Iraq vets would pull out their drums. We danced in a relief worker camp and in a soccer field. We danced down the streets of Slidell to drums, a tuba, and a tenor sax. We danced in Congo Square. We swayed and clapped to the sounds of church choirs.

We laid flowers below old photographs of the dead. We juggled. We ate gumbo and peanut-butter-jelly sandwiches. We talked to people with cameras and camcorders.

At one point, we had fifty vehicles in tandem, with two buses up front that made the queue look like a train. Each vehicle had its emergency flashers on, and other people passing in atomized cars would gawk and wave and honk horns and flash two-finger peace sings. Traffic management and preparation to simply move became monstrously complex.

But even that "glitch" suddenly revelaed itself as strength. I hated directing that traffic, but when I looked back down the shoulder of the road one day, and all those cars were lined up, it was apparent that we were showing our strength. We were a train, a peace train, and we started taking towns by simply moving in… cops were stunned and baffled, struggling to retain some semblence of control and authority, and we let them have it.

Did you get that? We LET them have it. Where was the power then, eh?

Every glitch, every last minute change, every late decision to follow some suggestion from a marcher, or a local survivor became something surprising and wonderful. We knoew where we wanted to begin and end, but the route was pure jazz… improvisation, with every marcher playing her or his part.

I haven't sorted this out yet, but I will say this as I prepare to close and rest. We scared people. We publicized this event in ways that caused people to decide NOT to come. We warned about contamination, about austerity and physical effort, about weather and insects, and we said it would last for six days.

So those that came were young and old and everything in between, and black and white and everything in between, and rural and urban and everything in between, and northern and southern and everything in between, and even male and female identified along multiple continua. But there was a common demographic… a personality demographic, or maybe a character demographic, held in common.

Everyone who came was willing to try something none of us completely understood. Everyone who came was willing to drop everything to do something they sensed might be important. Everyone who came was willing to accept risk. And everyone who came was willing to accept responsibility.

That's what none of us who organized this could see clearly until it happened, because the phenomenon we just experienced was a collective dynamic that was the qualitative offspring of the quantity of people who have this common character.

I don't know what we just did… except to put a couple hundred people outside their familiar surroundings, onto the margins of the grid, and move them cross country like a mechanized battalion through this incredibly strategic place.

I know this. We are not done yet.
Stan Goff
Veteran For Peace, Mitary Families Speak Out

...Day Seven

1. Invisible
In the book "Seedfolks" a woman describes her frustration in trying to get the city to clean up the trash in a vacant lot next to her. She makes countless phone calls to the city, eventually she is told this is a problem the county has to deal with, not the city. When she calls the county, she is told that the city is the authority she needs to contact. Meanwhile, as people pass by they throw their own trash into the pile, and the vacant lot becomes an informal sort of town dump.

She eventually gets so fed up with it that she fills up a bag with some of the trash from the lot, gets on a city bus, and rides to city hall. The secretary tells her to have a seat, and the official she wants to meet with will eventually see her. So she sits down in the waiting room, with her bag of trash, and first the fellow people in the waiting room, and then the secretary, begin to notice that her bag of garbage smells. It smells a lot. They bump her to the top of the list, and she is able to meet with the official to complain. She brings her smelly bag of garbage right into his office and allows the stench to surround them both while she is discussing the problem. The next day, trucks come, and the garbage is taken care of.

In the poorer neighborhoods that we visited, there were piles of trash lined up at the edge of the road, in the designated spots residents were told to put it so FEMA could get it trucked away. But the trucks never came. The problem is invisible to those officials who won't travel to those neighborhoods. I'm thinking it might be time to load up some trash bags and hop on a bus.

Claire was talking on the bus today about invisible people. When she went to Chicago last year over Easter break, she and her friend saw a man on the street corner trying to ask for directions. He was old, and disheveled, and looked, she said, like he might be homeless. He was asking for bus information, so he could go across town, and person after person walked past him without making eye contact. He began prefacing his request with a statement that he wasn't asking for money. He held out his hand with money in it to show he already had money, he wasn't begging, he just needed to know how to get across town.

Claire and her friend stopped and asked where he was trying to go. They didn't know their way around Chicago, but they at least had a bus map with them. They unfolded the map, and were trying to figure it out. The minute these two respectable looking young women unfolded a map, help materialized out of thin air. They didn't even need to ask for the help. A well-dressed woman spontaneously joined them, asked where they were trying to go (automatically assuming they were the ones that needed help), and when she didn't know the bus route, she whipped out her cell phone, dialed a friend, who called the bus station, and got the schedule for them. During the entire conversation, she never addressed the man directly, even after being told the directions were for him. The man wasn't able to make it to the bus stop, because his hips were bad and he couldn't walk more than a few steps at a time, but he was trying to see his brother in the hospital, and was afraid his brother would die before he could manage to get there. They ended up hailing a cab for him, but she was sorry now, she said, that they hadn't gotten in the cab with him and made sure he got to the hospital safely.

I found out today at the rally that somewhere in Biloxi, Caroline had picked up a homeless guy in her car. He had spent the last 6 months just trying to avoid being arrested by the Biloxi police for the crime of being homeless. He joined our march and came with us to New Orleans. I asked her to point him out to me, she just vaguely smiled, nodded towards the crowd, and said he's the most respectable looking person here.

My grandfather was a vaudeville magician; I grew up with quarters popping out of my ears, and scarves changing colors at will. My sister and I could toss knots into a rope before we hit the age of five. All of my grandpa's tricks combined couldn't rival the magic of poverty, though. It can make people entirely disappear, until you look at them directly, and then it's the circumstances that disappear, not the person.

2. Left Behind
Today we are leaving behind the people we've been marching with since Mobile, and those folks that joined us along the way in one town or another, sometimes planned, sometimes spontaneously. We're leaving behind the Chalmette National Military Cemetery we visited this morning with tombstone after tombstone marked simply US Soldier as well as those labeled as Colored Troops; and leaving behind house after house marked with the number of bodies found inside - no names for the invisible people. Dum tacit, clamat.

We're leaving behind the people of Common Ground, who met us in the 9th Ward and swelled our ranks as we headed to the rally site. As we entered into the final leg of our walk, people were lining the streets to greet us, city workers were stopping as we passed by to flash us a peace sign, people who happened to be filling their cars with gas as we came down the street started dancing around, pumping their fists, shouting "Yes! Yes!" Our column of walkers which had left Mobile originally with roughly 80 people in a column 2 or 3 wide became a mass that filled the road, with people beating on improvised drums, dancing, calling cadence, singing. The final rally alternated between the stories from vets that chew at your soul, stories of hope (how common ground was started by one man with $20 in his pocket, and his friend who had $30), and great music.

We are leaving the good people of SOS, who were on the scene in so many neighborhoods along the coast. We found out on Tuesday that they were going to have to let their employees go and shut down their warehouse in Mobile, where we stayed on our first night, because they couldn't make the $6,000 payment for the lease next month. A hat was passed around the camp at dinner, and I overheard a bit of the counting – I think we had collected about $5,000 on the spot at that point, I'm not sure what the total was.

And we are leaving behind a few members of the Iraq Veterans Against the War, who have vowed not to leave the coast until our host on the second night – one of the hurricane survivors who marched with us to New Orleans - has a roof on her house.
Audrey Mantey
Veterans for Peace

I met Scott Schmelling the morning of Monday, the 12th, when only a handful of us were at the Saving Our Selves (SOS) relief warehouse in Mobile, preparing for the next day's kickoff leg of Marchin' to New Orleans. He's a short, solid dude, with a working stiff's hands. He's what this culture calls white, though his real skin is roughened and reddened by time spent outside.

His arrival was a fluke. He'd hitch-hiked out of Lancaster, PA looking to work rebuilding the Gulf Coast. He first heard about the March from the drivers of his fourth ride, a van stuffed with name-tagged combat boots and civilian shoes. (For those who haven't seen it, this is Eyes Wide Open, an exhibit which uses displays of footgear to bring home to people in this country the reality behind statistics like 2,309 dead troops or news bites that start "Just hours ago, a blast killed at least 22 people in Baghdad ...")

"Count me in" was Scott's response. Though he knew not a soul on the March and was neither a veteran nor kin to a serving troop, he fit seamlessly into our expanding crew. He walked mile after mile without complaint, worked hard when there was work to be done, partied hard when that was on the agenda, and went skinny dipping in Bayou Liberty after dark despite the signs warning of alligators.

Best of all, in the middle of our trek, Scott came up with a black marker and started having the rest of us sign his official March tee shirt. And I do mean everyone--from Katrina survivors we met en route to Cindy Sheehan, from WW2 vet Gene Glazer to Grumble, our chief cook and bottle washer. I have no idea whre folks squeezed the last few names on.

During the closing rally in Louis Armstrong Park earlier today, Scott bounced onto the stage and auctioned off that tee shirt. He raked in $2000! People are starting to recognize that our March has made history, real history, and they want a taangible piece of it. Scott took his two grand and split it down the middle--$1000 to SOS and $1000 to Common Ground. a NOLA-based relief outfit. After the rally, he jumped in a car going to Mobile to work with SOS.

Me, I'm headed back to NYC, but I just want to holler at my fellow hitch-hiker: "Hey, Brother Scott, catch you down the road!"
Dennis O'Neil
VFP, New York City

...Day Six

Thursday night the members of the Mt. Pilgrim Baptist Church in Long Beach MS so graciously welcomed us, fed us with their good home cooking, and we camped around their church. This is in one of the most devastated areas of Mississippi, we had walked and driven through destruction all day. The Vietnam vets on the march remarked how much it reminded them of villages in Vietnam after the U.S. military finished them. The Iraq vets said it reminded them of Iraq that the U.S. military had devastated. Since the media does not seem to show this, think Afghanistan, it looks like Afghanistan. And people are living here. As people in Iraq have been living in devastation, as our soldiers iin Iraq and Afghanistan have been living in and creating devastation, American survivors of Katrina have been living the same. And too many Americans would rather forget. Just in case anyone cannot see the purpose of this march, the very real connection between Katrina and the war in Iraq, this is it.

Our visit to Mt. Pilgrim coincided with an important anniversary for their church and they were holding special service to commemorate both the march and their anniversary. Since I noticed a few of the members duck out when the preaching got long, I figured I could do so without being too disrespectful, and went out front and talked with a few of the sisters from the church. I was glad, so glad, it is why I came on this march, to talk to the people along the way. As Cesar Chavez proved to the world, and I mention this also to note Fernando's march this week in California to Cesar's grave, movements are built person to person. Media attention is great, but it is not a movement. If people, all the small unimportant folk like us, are not at the center, it is not really a movement. So ducking out of a church service and hanging around the front of the church talking is not wasting time, it is the building blocks of the movement. I may never see those church sisters again in my life, although I wish I could, but standing there chatting, what some might call wasting time, we were adding another building block to the movement. We have added alot of bricks along this march, and it brings tears to my eyes, it is hope, it is a step in the right direction at a time when we are hopeless and devestated, the vets of all wars, the Iraq and Afghanistan vets, the mothers and fathers of those young vets, and the survivors of Katrina.

So I was talking to the sisters in the front of the church. They told me that their community, which is both their church community and their real surrounding community where they live, had decided to stay rather than evacuate, and luckily the water did not get too high, there was damage but they are still there. There is a plaque in front of the church that notes it was built in 1895---and that community is still there and strong and loving, despite the fact that the government turned its back on them. It is in the midst of devastation, they told me they wished I could have been there before Katrina so I could see how beautiful it all was. I wish I could tell them that it was still beautiful, their community and their strength. The community is not the things, it is the people there together. The beautiful singing of their children in the choir.

I had to tell them what I thought, the connection between us. Our devastation and how the government has forgotten us. The bad things that have bound us together. How it feels like the government sent my son to Iraq, and then forgot him, in the first year of the war. They sent him to destroy a country against his will, something he would not have chose to do, to create devastation. And they forgot him there, for most of the year, and this was the first year of the war, from March 2003 to March 2004, he lived in devastated conditions without enough food and water. For most of that year, he lived at the Abu Ghraib prison, part of an occupying army that learned to hate the people, the Iraqis, that they allegedly came there to help. And now that he has returned, ashamed to wear the uniform that he put on so he could gain respect, many people want to pat him on the back and tell him "Good job!"----and then turn their backs and forget him. Katrina was popular for a while, but now many people have moved on to other things, they want to get back to normal. But this is not normal. Katrina survivors, the strong people who have held their communities together through this despite the the wishes of the rich and the powerful to see black people and poor people leave the area permanently to make way for more profitable development, know it is not normal. Nothing is normal here.

But that is OK. In our collective devastation is strength. Our hurt and our pain bind us together. We will waste time talking and crying and laughing together and build us a movement, whether you will be able to watch it on Fox News or CNN or not. We will love eachother and hold eachother up. We know this is not normal and we also know it is not hopeless. We know we are not wasting time standing around talking together, hugging eachother, or even driving around in circles together which has happened more than once on this march. That is the movement, maybe a small step but man is it a big step, the best thing I can imagine doing. I am disappointed that many people are so willing to march in Washington DC for an hour or two then retreat to fine restaurants and fancy hotels, but were not willing to come to Mississippi and sleep on church lawns with us. When I first heard about this march, I knew that Mississippi is where we should be, that this would be part of the building of a real movement, a strong movement that will get us all out of this mess, to end this devastation and destruction. So if you don't mind marching in DC or New York where it is comfortable, but hesitate to march in Mississippi, I hope that you think about this for a while, about what it takes to build a true movement.
Jeri L. Reed
Mother of an Iraq Veteran for Peace, Cody Camacho,
a true movement builder who I am always so proud of

Abandonment and Community

I've been drinking tea this evening.

Earlier today, at the request of the relief camp where we stayed last night, we walked through a house that hadn't been cleaned yet. We saw the black mold on the walls, embedded in the furniture, and smelled it in the air.

The first half of our walk today was through an area that's widely contaminated - one of the most contaminated in the area. Those of us who had dust masks used them, others tied bandannas around their faces. Those who were recovering from respiratory illnesses or other allergies rode in the chase vehicles through the area. Our numbers were smaller today than the day before, because a sizable group of our veterans headed straight from camp into New Orleans this morning to spend the day mucking out the house of a fellow veteran. This evening, someone asked me how my throat was holding up, after walking through the contaminated area, and I said I was just fine. Then I realized I was drinking the tea because my throat felt just a bit scratchy. Then I looked over and realized there was a line for the hot water - the first time I'd seen a line for hot tea since I've been here. I still have a lingering hacking sounding cough from the walk this morning. These are the conditions the residents are living in every day, without dust masks. And so the abandonment of our communities continues.

Whether it's the effects of Agent Orange on our veterans, whether it's the effects of Depleted Uranium, or on the people in the communities where we've dispersed those chemicals, the government reaction is always the same: refuse to admit it, abandon the people affected, and put the burden on the victim to prove it's a toxic substance. David Cline (President, VFP) likened it to demanding that a rape victim go out on their own to procure a DNA sample from the rapist before the courts agreeing to allow a case to go to trial. And here in New Orleans, contaminants from the storm are left in the environment, and if it affects the residents, so be it. Garbage from mucking out the houses lines the streets, uncollected, in the neighborhood where we're staying. In other areas where we've stayed, we've seen the same thing – massive piles of garbage that were put in designated spots, residents were told FEMA trucks would come by to clean it, but the trucks never came.

I didn't mention this before, but on Day 4, we walked by a huge building – bigger than a normal house, which was destroyed in the floods. There's nothing unusual in that, not in this area, but this building had a large fence around it proclaiming it federal property. I was aware of the government abandoning communities here, but it surprised me they would leave a government building completely unrepaired. I found out the next day it was the VA hospital.

I retrieved my car and headed into tonight's camp earlier than the main group. We're set up tonight at a church again – one in a Vietnamese neighborhood. A young woman who is working relief efforts here gave a reporter and myself a tour of the church. There was a pile of cots upstairs for workers, and she showed us her room – where 4 or 5 people live together on cots, and then the men's bedroom, where there were even more cots. They had running water for showers, but the shower stalls were rigged up like our outdoor camp showers – blue tarps hung up as dividers. Parts of the roof leak; they have buckets to catch it. Some ceiling tiles are falling apart, one room appeared to be uninhabitable with a partially collapsed ceiling. Damaged floor tiles in some areas had been pulled up by volunteers, and in other areas they remained. Behind the church, there is a fence marked "Police Line, Do Not Cross." That's where their food is stored.

It's stored there, but they aren't allowed to use it. A nonprofit managed to get them designated as a FEMA distribution center, and supplies that were donated by private entities that were sent to FEMA were shipped to this distribution center. You can see fliers tacked to the containers saying who donated it. Pepperdine University donated one stack, a religious organization donated another. So there is a parking lot filled with pallets of food, cleaning supplies, etc. Because it's a FEMA center, community leaders aren't allowed to distribute it. It can only be distributed by the FEMA workers. And no FEMA workers want to work in this community, thus the food sits unprotected from the weather, in the open lot, unused, rotting in the rain and heat, as it has sat now for several months.

The woman showing us around talked about people being threatened with arrest for trying to deliver supplies to this area. This is one of the common themes we've heard along the length of the gulf. The police and FEMA are afraid of the people in those neighborhoods, and are actively encouraging relief workers to be afraid of them as well. In trying to figure out why the veterans aren't afraid of those communities where the police cower in fear, the best answer I can come up with is that these are the communities veterans come from. The military tends to recruit from poor and minority neighborhoods, so those groups are disproportionately represented in the services. I'm not condoning those recruitment tactics, but the reality is that the people who come from those communities aren't afraid to go back to their own homes. This is what the National Guard was designed to do, to serve their own communities. But instead, we shipped them off to Iraq, and imported outsiders who are scared of the communities that need their help the most. This is one of the primary reasons that National Guard needs to be brought home. They aren't afraid of a grandmother armed with nothing but a key-lime pie.
Audrey Mantey
Veterans for Peace

The Green zone in Baghdad is the area where the coalition forces are "safe." Here in New Orleans there is no Green zone. Here as we walked in, we entered the Baghdad of this war zone. This war zone is just as much so as it is in Iraq and here too the war is a human cost more than anything else. Here too the crime of it all is that this was preventable. All those who have been lost in Iraq and along the Gulf Coast have been needlessly lost. There are cars here that look like a bomb dropped on them; there are houses that look like they have been mortared. This place is a war casualty because the funds that could have prevented all of this have been used in Iraq. New Orleans is the Baghdad of this war with its overwhelming devastation. Its comparisons are also there when it comes to the media as Baghdad and New Orleans may get the media attention but the entire area is hurt by these wars. Iraq is being destroyed while the Gulf Coast is lying in its own death. The look on the eyes here are the same as the eyes of Iraqis who have seen the horrors of war. Americans cannot see this and cannot know they must do something, which is why the American people, not the government, are doing all the rebuilding. Save Our Self is as we speak doing the work that our government says cannot be done. As my boots leave this place tomorrow I will never again place them on my feet. My combat boots will be retired and set aside as a reminder of the two wars they saw the war in the Persian Gulf and the war in the Gulf Coast.
Geoffrey Millard
Iraq Veterans Against the War
18 Mar 2006

Where do I start? The raw sewage a few blocks away smells. We're in a Vietnamese immigrant community and trash is piled into the middle of the street. Thirty years ago Vietnamese people were bombed and shot at by the military. Now, because the military is bombing and shooting in Iraq, Vietnamese in the US are getting F***** again.

Elsewhere immigrant workers from latin America are hired to rebuild. But they are not rebuilding. They clean up the streets and some debris but there's no rebuilding. That's bad. It gets worse. The workers have to pay for their 20 meters of land and a tent on the work camps. It gets worse. They get paid in company coupons. Regular stores don't take coupons. Company stores do. Company stores have marked up prices. Sometimes, in someplaces, when the work is done the company calls INS (homeland security these days). The workers get deported. The company keeps their pay. Money for contracts keeps flowing and Katrina survivors are fighting to keep their homes.

All this is very different from Iraq. KBR (haliburton) builds whole communities in days. But homes for poor people don't keep the powerful in power and don't make the rich richer. Oil does.

This is bigger than bush. It's bigger than Cheney. It's bigger than the democrats. Iraq is only the latest in 200 years of wars for money. The government is scared people will stop complaining and asking them to do things. I can't wait for that day. We won't complain, we won't ask. We'll just do what needs to be done. We're far from that today. People are don't care or are racist, sexist, or think they're middle class when they're not. But it's a long fight. And that's ok because my anger is long too.
Fernando Braga
Iraq Veterans Against the War
19 March 2006

…Day Five

This is a red state!
You are going to get lynched!
Don't go into the deep south!

These are the things that the lethargic pessimists said of this march but as we walk the love and support are overwhelming. This is now at least a purple state if not a full blue state as the honks and peace signs shower us along. I have to say that there are the middle fingers still every so often but not the hate I was expecting. These people are living off of nothing but love and it has overwhelmed and is helping to heel the wounded souls of the Iraq War vets. As I now prepare to eat some real Cajon gumbo I am revitalized to get into New Orleans with the new hope that the people can and will end the war and rebuild the gulf coast no matter what obstacles the government of the united states puts in our way!
Geoffrey Millard
Iraq Veterans Against the War
17 mar 2006

What a difference a day makes. The group of walkers is getting larger and larger as we go - where I used to see the back of the caravan in my rearview mirror, now the tail end of it is beyond what we can see or count. And that's in addition to the people loaded on the buses. Today when we left camp and arrived at our start point, Cindy was standing there waving at us. Her sister had been with us all along in a chase vehicle, but still it was nice to see Cindy.

We ran off schedule this morning because some local folks asked us to come take a look at their section of town. They wanted someone to see what had happened to them. So instead of sticking to the planned route, we walked a loop around their area. People came out of their businesses to watch us go by, and were incredibly supportive. I dropped out of formation to talk to a few women from a dental clinic who came out in their scrubs and business suits. They didn't know we were coming, but felt they had to come out and support us. I introduced myself and explained who we were, and our purpose. They said they came out to watch because they felt they had to show their support. I asked if they'd been affected by the hurricane, and one woman looked away, another nodded in her direction and said she had been. She said she lost everything, and then choked up. She was having a bad day, she said – it was the third time today she had broken down. We ended up just standing in the center of the parking lot, hugging each other.

Changing up our schedule meant we had to load the buses and caravan out to Slidell rather than walk there, because we'd paid for the police escorts starting at 1:00, and a local jazz band from a high school was waiting to escort us through town. Police once again were great. They shut down the westbound side of the road for us, and we just danced our way through the city, with the tuba, sax, and drums, Louisiana style. Car after car was honking in support; people were peeking out from their curtains waving to us, people were standing out in the streets to watch us go by. I spoke with a couple standing in their doorway. They said they'd heard we were coming – they were both National Guard veterans themselves.

With the morning being off schedule, we ended up skipping lunch, just running on the awesome breakfast our even more awesome chef Grumbles cooked up for us. The grumble sandwiches were waiting for us when we arrived at camp at about 5:30 in the evening. The support system set up here is amazing – we've got medics traveling with us, Jose at every stop is running around hawking his moleskin and sunblock, like he's selling peanuts at a stadium. Without lunch being served, I guess we didn't have enough stops to keep him busy, so he appeared at the side of the road as we walked by, holding out a bottle of sunblock squirting it into our hands in the way that folks at a marathon would hold out glasses of water for the runners. A nurse from Florida who joined the protest today was able to have her clinic back home call in a prescription to a local drugstore for my daughter, whose eye has almost swelled shut for no apparent reason.

We are being hosted at a relief camp tonight, and they are giving us the warmest welcome ever. I've got a belly full of the best gator gumbo in the world, we've got live music, and folks are dancing the night away, with one of the filmmakers juggling in the background.

Nothing but love in Slidell.
Audrey Mantey
Veterans for Peace

…Day Four

Walking the route to New Orleans through Mississippi today I was struck by the devastation but I was quite surprised to feel no connection with the rubble I was seeing and my experiences in Iraq. Instead my mind wondered back to 9-11. Not only was I in Iraq with the 42nd Infantry division but also I was at, as they say, ground zero, with them. My eyes continuously picked out these I-beams of steel, which are not very prominent in Iraq but were the structural basis for the world trade center. Throughout the fall of 2001 I saw those beams being pulled from the ruble, which I was guarding yet in 2006 I see these beams sitting without a care in the world for what is to happen to them and to the people whom they represent. Why is it that in the middle of Manhattan we could have such a grand and caring out reach of the American government and not have the same out reach by the very same government when it comes to the Gulf Coast? There is a reason deeper than the fact that the guard unit which, was so well utilized for 9-11 (my very own 42 ID), was in Iraq. Deeper still is the fact that the money, which was so well spent for 9-11, is now in Iraq. Deeper than all of this is the fact that race has played a role in the recovery efforts and because of this all poor people have suffered. It is no coincidence that the people who were most displaced have been of African decent. The Diaspora has been further accomplished and a new level of gentrification is setting in. Though here I can see that not only blacks are suffering the lack of response must be seen in the terms that the face linked to the suffering was black. Because the media chose to show the "black looter" and the "white finding food" the American viewer has devalued the suffering of all these people. By connecting the people who have suffered to some fabricated tales of babies being raped and plasma TVs being looted the American people have dehumanized these survivors as undeserving victims. Because the media perpetuated a myth of some people shooting at rescue workers Americans were deceived into thinking that these people there deserved to get no aid! These are fictitious accounts made to dehumanize these wonderful people just as the army trained me to dehumanize the people of Iraq. We must see these people as human and we must get these people the reaction and caring that was poured into Manhattan on that infamous fall.

Geoffrey Millard
Iraq Veterans Against the War
16 Mar 2006

We walked through Biloxi and Gulfport to Long Beach, Mississippi, on our way to New Orleans today. We hadn't seen much devastation until now, but these towns were some of the hardest hit. It dawned on me as we walked that I knew these areas. I spent three months at Keesler AFB in Biloxi for training after commissioning in the Air Force and lived for most of the time on Hwy 90 across the street from the gulf. When we walked by the hotel today, I remembered Biloxi as it was. The coastal strip had been booming in 1998. Biloxi and Gulfport had both found some tourist trade; jobs opened up, people visited, stayed, and spent money. The cities had cleaned up the beaches so that they were at least walkable. It was not a wealthy area, but clearly a destination for many. There?s nothing there now, nothing. The hotel I stayed in is an empty shell, more of a skeleton than a building. Across the street there were no buildings, no restaurants or shops that I used to visit. All of it was destroyed; not a single business of hundreds survived, not the local shops, not the corporate chains. We could hardly walk on the side of the street with all the debris and sand. To our left was the gulf, to our right, the remains of a town. We saw people driving on the road, but very little work happening on the buildings. It was as if nobody could even find the strength to demolish the buildings that were already half-crushed by wind and waves.

This is the devastation I saw in my head as I watched the military build-up to the Iraq war. I knew that in war-ravaged countries, there are no jobs to be had; there is no discrimination between big house and little house, between school building and warehouse. The bombs are never that smart. This is why I refused to go to Iraq, because I saw what would happen to the people of Iraq; I knew from my studies of war that the innocent suffer the most, that the poor are the ones who never recover. I stood in protest as a conscientious objector in November of 2002 saying I would not be a part of death and destruction, that no cause, no fear for our own security can excuse our willful devastation of another country. Our country still bombed the citizens of Iraq. When it came time to reconstruct our own country from a natural disaster nobody could stop, we pretend it doesn't matter. America has largely ignored this area; we have left it looking like a combat zone, with the sides of buildings sheared off as if from a bomb.

Our priorities are so off that we will spend money to destroy someone else's country and refuse to take care of our own when it needs help. This area cannot stand up again without our help. We must open our eyes to the destruction both that we have caused and that we have refused to fix.

Stephen Potts
Iraq Veterans Against the War
16 Mar 2006

Crossing the Gulf

Night after night, we are able to camp, due to the hospitality of the black churches, which were the foundation of the rescue efforts within these communities. Night after night, we attend their church services, sitting side by side with those people that the police advised our groups not to send relief supplies to. These are the people – "THOSE people" as the police told Vivian, when she tried to deliver food and water to neighborhoods in Gulfport – who were so dangerous that relief workers were warned not to even enter their neighborhoods, and if they did, keep their cars locked at all times.

These are the people who lost everything, who were left to drown in their attics, who are donating food and cooking dinner for us, in preparation for our visits. Tonight we were given chicken, pork, peas, cabbage, cornbread, beans, key lime pie, cakes, and a place to rest our heads. Tonight we were invited to join their services, to listen to their music and their preaching, and they listened while our walkers talked about the frustration of sitting at Fort Hood in a National Guard unit, not being allowed to provide help to the Gulf area, even though 40% of the National Guard units – as well as their equipment – were overseas in Iraq. They listened to the frustration of watching guard units being used in New Orleans to guard warehouses of Mardi Gras beads against looters, instead of providing relief to "those people." They listened to a father talk about his son, who had stood next to National Guard members filling sandbags as their own town's river had flooded, and was inspired by them to join the guard. And then was killed in Iraq, rather than staying in the US protecting our own communities. When it was time for the offering, I realized my wallet was in my other pants, in my car. The woman next to me had two dollars in her hand for the plate. She pressed them into mine, for me to add to the plate, and gave me a huge hug.

It's a humbling experience to accept money from a person who has lost so much.

These are the people the police were afraid of. These are "those people."

I knew before leaving home that the purpose of this trip was to cross the gulf, but I didn't understand until we started walking, exactly which gulf we were crossing.
Audrey Mantey
Veterans for Peace
16 Mar 2006

…Day Three

Every time my sole slaps blacktop I am reminded that the boots I am wearing are the same ones that saw 13 months in Iraq. I call them my combat boots because I would only were them in combat. The rhetoric of that statement is beginning to turn into reality on the faces of IVAW members who are seeing again the devastations of war. This time however we are seeing it on the America we call home, poor America. This time however the local people are glad to have us as the honks of support with matching peace signs being flashed at us are far outnumbering the middle fingers and "God Bless W" signs. This time we are not coming as liberator but as friends and family in turn this time the reaction has been truly that of welcome. Sitting down at a BBQ dinner served at the Macedonia Baptist Church we are surrounded by love. Hardy the stereotype of the tree huggers, we the veterans of this war and the survivors of this disaster are finding love in those with whom they now break bread. Despite the obvious role race played (and continues to play) in the recovery and reconstruction of both Iraq and the gulf all shades of fingers were at this meal being licked clean of the most soulful BBQ this soldiers has ever tasted. My fear of seeing a hometown combat zone in America is only overshadowed by the hope which a multiracial, multicultural, and multigenerational march is producing as it is walkin' to New Orleans.

Geoffrey Millard
Iraq Veterans Against the War
15 Mar 2006

Intertwining Circles

1. Oyster Shells and Oak Trees

There is an oyster shell in my daughter's backpack. It's from Caroline, who was visiting Mobile for the first time in 40 years, Caroline who protested against the forced integration of her high school, until she saw the frightened looks of the two black students who were integrated into her all white school of three thousand people, as they left the building one day. Caroline, a slight soft-spoken woman, who realized that day, "They think I want to kill them."

Caroline sat down by us today, during the drumming circle. She didn't want to interrupt them, but she wanted to tell someone about the drumming. Her ancestors came over from Scotland, and moved to the Gulf Coast, where they obtained a large house as a reward for driving out the local Indian tribe and forcing them onto the Trail of Tears. The river we had just crossed over, the Singing River, was named after the group of Indians who refused to leave their land. Instead, they joined arms, and sang, as they waded into the river and drowned themselves. She sat, listened to the drumming, reflecting on how her family had gotten that house, by killing the Indians, and how the drums echoed what our ancestors had done to the Indians, to Africans, to our veterans. She was here to make amends, in her own way, to show support for those shoved aside and neglected by our government. The house itself was wiped out by Katrina, but she was heading out to the site to see if any of the pottery she had collected as a child remained on the site. If there was, she said, she would bring us a piece to keep. As it happened, there was none. All that remained of that ill-gotten house was the oyster shells of the soil it was built on, and a giant old oak tree, that was left untouched. And so, there is an oyster shell in our backpack, to take back to Detroit.

2. Generations

When we arrived at the Vietnam memorial, the IVAW sign was set up, and the Iraq Veterans were asked to stand by it. Opposite them, the Veterans for Peace sign was set up, and the Vietnam Veterans stood under it, facing them. The Vietnam vets talked first, talking about the cost of that war, in human terms, about how they discovered that the only ones who would take care of them were each other. Stan has an uncanny ability to switch from the unflappable guy in charge that my daughter automatically looks for when she has a question about anything – about whom she says "let's just follow him until he talks to us through the bullhorn" – to the guy that can move you to tears in an instant. He talked about the absence of the VA when they are most needed; the failure of government to take care of those whose lives they risk without a second thought, and the lives that have been lost not only in Iraq during action, but of those who came back, desperately pleading for help, only to be turned away by the VA. The Iraq vets, in turn, spoke about how they hoped that in another 30 years they would not be standing on the other side of that lawn, in the position of the Vietnam vets, talking to a new generation of veterans returning from war.

We were asked to take a flower, and place it in the memorial where it felt appropriate. I'm not sure what I expected the memorial to look like, but I know I was not prepared for it to be filled with the photos of those who had died. No words.

3. Redemption

At the Macedonia Mission Baptist Church, people affected by Katrina came up to the microphone, one by one, and talked about what they had lost. In some cases, they rode out the storm, moving up the levels of their houses until they were able to escape by boat or by swimming. In some cases, they went to their churches to ride it out, watching out the window as their cars floated past, then keeping their congregation calm as sections of the roof began caving in. In other cases they lost everything they had, left with only the steps to their houses, with no insurance to cover it because they weren't in a "flood plain." It was the church organizations which first moved in with supplies, when the government failed. When they began bring supplies into the bad sections of town, they weren't greeted by people with shotguns or criminals. They moved in without security, without police escort. They just went. They were welcomed – and it's shameful that such a thing needs to be said, but with the news coverage that was given, it does.

Veterans for Peace began organizing relief as well, arranging for truckloads of supplies, and working with local churches to ensure they were distributed where needed. Much of the aid went to Ocean Springs, the community where the Macedonia Baptist Church is located. For those who were unable to participate fully in the civil rights struggles of the South because they were dealing with the war in Vietnam - and its aftermath, in one way or another, this is a chance to atone for what they hadn't done. For a veteran who has fought in an immoral war, for someone who has witnessed things that nobody should have to see, these are the acts of redemption.

4. I live in the Detroit area. We haven't had a hurricane; we haven't had a natural disaster that required FEMA's assistance. Our disaster doesn't attract media, doesn't attract emergency agencies, doesn't attract outside assistance, because it's not dramatic. It's a slow economic disaster. We have street after street of burned out or boarded up buildings, factories that lie abandoned, the train station is a gargantuan monument to what used to be in our city, standing in the heart of Detroit, with broken out windows that let you see skylight clear through to the other side as you drive down the highway.

I would like people to remember that while we're here asking why we are spending money to bomb Iraq when we should be rebuilding the gulf, there are other areas of the country that are also in a world of hurt. Those disasters were not the sudden unanticipated disasters that left our government trying to budget for the unforeseen. Those were the results of outsourcing jobs, of refusing to raise the minimum wage, of cutbacks in health care and welfare. Those were the disasters we watched in silence, entirely predictable, and occurring even as the decision was made to go into Iraq. Every bomb dropped in Iraq explodes over the Gulf. They also explode over Detroit, and over every family that watches a loved one die for lack of health care, or has a child that goes to bed hungry. They explode over every one of my students that misses a day of school because their their boyfriend was shot and they had to go to his funeral, or shows up in class but slips me a note saying not to call on them please, because their mother died yesterday, and they couldn't stay home because they were afraid to miss a day of school.

At my home, we've been restoring the woods behind our house, ripping out the invasive trees and replanting with oaks. There is a stream that runs through the backyard, where muskrats eat the freshwater clams they find in the water, the shells pile up in the soil. Our land used to be a slaughterhouse. When it rains in spring, bones and shells are washed up from the earth. It doesn't matter whether we are in Mississippi or Michigan – we each have our ghosts and redemption, our oyster shells and oak trees.
Audrey Mantey
Vets Gulf March Day 3

…Day Two

We piled in the back of a stranger's pickup truck, shivering in the brisk wind and huddling up for warmth against people we'd only just met. We were going to look at a hurricane-stricken neighborhood a few miles away from our campsite after hearing some of the tales of the Katrina survivors from the nearby town of Coden. This is by no means the area most devastated by the storm, but hearing the residents' stories of evacuating their homes year after year, and their difficulty in dealing with the government afterward finally made Katrina seem real.

I go to a tiny college in rural Vermont, where the students have voted to have no television reception on campus; six months ago when Katrina hit, I didn't even know about it until a few days afterward. Without seeing the 24 hour coverage on television, it seemed vaguely like a story in a book- not real news. I read a few internet news stories, watched a few CNN clips online, but then the school year set in. It's all too easy to get swept away by schoolwork and the isolation of a 300 person campus in the middle of nowhere. So when my mother told me hesitantly about this march along the Gulf Coast, I was insistent that we go. Now that I'm here, I can't imagine spending my spring break at home instead, sleeping all day and watching bad late-night TV.

Between the plane flight back from Vermont to Detroit, and the drive down across the country from Michigan to Mobile, Alabama, I spent nearly two and a half days reaching the start of this march. As everyone gathered yesterday to listen to a preacher talk about the importance of helping out our fellow brothers and sisters in need, I was so happy to be there, surrounded by such inspiring people. The speech itself was inspiring, of course, but I found the best part to be the tapered candles that everyone was trying to light as they listened. The wind didn't seem too keen on letting the candles stay lit, but it didn't take long before people were passing around large Styrofoam cups to stick the candles in, blocking the wind. Perhaps it's that writing seminar I took, but I couldn't help feeling that it was highly symbolic. There are so many elements of life that you can't control, be it the weather or the government's response to it. But that doesn't mean there's nothing we can do in response. The Styrofoam cups were such a small gesture, but it really made me think that with a little bit of determination and creativity, we can make things happen.

As the youngest adult on this march, with only 19 years of relatively cushy life experiences, I'm not accustomed to the same kind of harrowing events as the veterans, the hurricane survivors, or the ex-Mobile resident I talked to today who was in high school when they first integrated the Mobile schools. I feel grateful, though, that for the next five days I get to soak up some of these experiences second-hand.
Claire Jakubiszyn

Before I knew what was happening tears were rolling down my cheek and onto my DCU top. My knee felt fine and as a matter of fact I was in no physical pain at all, instead what was happening lay deep in my soul. Today I stood and listened to the stories of three Gold Star Families for Peace members. Any human gets a tug at the heartstrings to listen to these terrible tales of lose but for me, no for US it is different. For the members of Iraq Veterans Against the War these mothers, fathers and other family are our family. I can only think dad when I see Bill Mitchell or aunt when I see Dede Sheehan. For us they are our families. My only close living family member is my mom and but for the grace of god she would be on this march with GSFP and not me here with IVAW. When we hug them not only are they our family but also for just a second they can feel the return of their family member who was lost in this tragic war. For that second the pain we both feel can be overcome with love. The pain of their lost can never go away but with our embrace it can be over come with the love, as we become for just a brief instant their lost relative. This war must end, if for no other reason than that not putting more wonderful people through the pain Bill and Dede are and will forever carry with them.

Geoffrey Millard
Iraq Veterans Against the War
14 Mar 2006

…Day One

Like most Americans I am a TV junkie. I love watching TV shows, news, whatever is on the idiot box I WILL WATCH IT! Thus my time in Iraq was no different and while the Gulf coast was drowning in broken levies and hurricane force screw-ups I watched on TV. What ripped my soul from my body time and again as I watched was the scene of a bloated, Black women whose body had washed ashore while there were "not enough relief workers to take care of the living and the dead" therefore the dead stay laying there rotting an American death on an American street. But the thing is I was in a nightly briefing with the seat to my direct right being taken up by the mortuary affairs team. Now for those who don't speak Army that means a team who does nothing but find and respectfully process the remains of human beings. Not only were those teams in Iraq helping to destroy those people but they are part of the largest National Guard division in the United States military. To boot they have already done this exact job with the FBI, as the 42nd infantry was the first on the scene after the tragedies of 9-11. But instead of using these teams or the combat medics or any other humanitarian troops in the relief effort the military was brought in with the intent of "keeping order". What though does this mean? This translates into a oppressing of the people who are to be subjugated and not the protection of these people. They are to be controlled which is simply a repeat of the process by which the army is now being forced to dehumanize and control brown people in Iraq. Instead of a humane reaction to a human experience the United States government has chosen to militarize the domestic policies as well as their foreign policies. This needs to be seen as a tactic of war against the poor people of the world by the plutocratic United States government.

Geoffrey Millard
Iraq Veterans Against the War
13 March 2006

We start marching out of Mobile tomorrow, but everything has already changed. The last few weeks have been anxious times for the organizers of this unprecedented event, folks like Vivian Felts and Mobile Vets For Peace leader Paul Robinson and vet activists Stan Goff and Michael McPhearson. For them the last few weeks have been like the slow jerky crawl of the little cart up the steep incline. This morning, when three of us from New York and Baltimore showed up at the warehouse where the Saving Our Selves from the Stone Street Baptist Church has been storing goods for relief distribution, there were maybe a dozen people here. Tonight after a rousing sermon and choir performance, 150 veterans, military family members and supporters tucked into a soul food dinner. The cart is teetering on the top of the first rise now, and tomorrow morning we're off down the first drop on the roller coaster. There's still plenty to be nervous about, but we are already cohering as a unit with a mission to accomplish. The support of local people and their repeated testimony about how little has been done to deal with the aftermath of Katrina and Rita has put a certain determination into folks' bearing and discussions. We can't wait to get moving into the devastated areas of the coast and on to NOLA.
Dennis O’Neil
Bring Them Home Now! Campaign

I'm Bill Mitchell from Atascadero, CA. My son, Sgt. Mike Mitchell was killed in Sadr City, Iraq on 04/04/04. I came here to Mobile, Alabama, with my fellow vets, military families and Gold Star families to march in solidarity with the victims of the hurricane. I wanted to see first-hand the damage from the Gulf Coast hurricanes and the conditions that still exist here 6 months later. It is important for me to draw attention to the shameful performance and response of our government to the disaster that is still affecting my fellow Americans. All of us Americans need to connect the dots and see how our foreign policies have adversely affected US domestically. As we wage illegal and costly wars in foreign lands, the living conditions of the average continue to deteriorate. I hope to learn more of the neglect along the Gulf Coast and share with those I meet along my travels that this could be their community next.
Bill Mitchell

When one thinks of the antiwar movement Prichard, AL is not the first place that comes to mind. But that is exactly where the Veterans' and Survivors' March to New Orleans is kicking off. I arrived in New Orleans in the afternoon of March 13th and drove through the ravaged gulf coast to Prichard. The extent of the damage along Interstate 10 was unbelievable and the lack of reconstruction was astonishing. For several miles at a time rows of homes could be seen with ripped open roofs and smashed windows. It seemed as if the area was abandoned and from what I hear local residents saying it was indeed. FEMA has been slow to respond to this disaster and six months after Katrina stuck it is difficult to see if anything at all has been done to restore the people of this area back to their communities.

When I arrived in Prichard a press conference was underway. Afterward members of the media conducted individual interviews with veterans and survivors. As more marchers arrived there were hugs all around with Vietnam vets coming up to Iraq vets with greetings and praise. Local Alabamans and relief workers mingled with veterans and family members smiling and hugging people they had just met. The vibe here is incredible!!! I feel like this is going to be an historic event. My heart is full with joy when I think about how far people came for this to show their solidarity with the people of the Gulf Coast and our service members overseas. Bring the troops home now!!! Rebuild the Gulf Coast!!!

Jose Vasquez
Iraq Veterans Against the War
13 march 2006

. . . . . . .

Wisconsin Referendums Ask the Voters
Should Withdrawal Start Now?

Last year the Green Party of Wisconsin which opposed the invasion of Iraq, began an effort to educate the citizens of the state about the continuing U.S. occuption. Coalitions of Greens, Independents, Democrats, church groups, and peace and justice groups, including the Wisconsin Network for Peace and Justice worked together to collect petition signatures. Using the Vermont example, the referendum asked whether the U.S. should begin an immediate withdrawal of troops from Iraq starting with the National Guard and Reserve. Each municipality decided on its own wording.

In Wisconsin, a state statute allows for direct legislation. Voters in a municipality may collect signatures of at least 15% of the number of voters who turned out locally in the most recent election for governor to force their governing body to consider legislation. The local government may then approve the legislation, or, if they do not approve it, the legislation in the form of a referendum must appear on the ballot in the next election. Thirty-two towns, villages and cities throughout Wisconsin will have a "Bring the Troops Home" question on the ballot on April 4. Milwaukee will be the 33rd to vote on a similar resolution in November 2006.

Milwaukee's petition fell about 10,000 signatures short of the 21,000+ needed but local representatives agreed to add the referendum in November. In Watertown, the council tried to block the referendum but the Watertown Peace and Democracy Coalition sued and in early February a county judge ordered the referendum be added to the April ballot.

In La Crosse, a western Wisconsin city of about 55,000 on the banks of the Mississippi River, forty people collected over 2,600 signatures and the legislation came to the city council in January 2006. The council rejected the resolution, 10-3, so the referendum will appear on the April ballot. Currently Bring Them Home - La Crosse is working to educate and canvas voters.

The group will show the film, The Dreams of Sparrows in early March. They are planning a panel of veterans and military families and will host Mr. Sami Rasouli, of Minneapolis and Iraq, for two days of presentations late in March. The group also convinced U.S. Representative Ron Kind (D-WI) to hold a "listening session" on Iraq. Kind has disappointed many by voting in favor of previous war resolutions. Individuals are placing lawn signs and writing letters to the editor. The group is fundraising for media ads.

The Republican Party in Wisconsin has formed a PAC to fight the initiatives. Wisconsin Greens, concerned that there are fewer limits on campaign financing for such initiatives, are investigating whether federal tax money is being used for the prowar campaign.

Supporters believe that citizens must wake up to and discuss the costs -to our military and their families, veterans, the people of Iraq, our communities and especially to our children's future - of the continuing occupation of Iraq. We hope the conversations and debates sparked by these initiatives will send a message to our representatives encouraging them to support withdrawal of troops from Iraq and forcing them to seek a peaceful international solution to the nightmare we have created there.

We are hopeful that our resolution will pass. But even if doesn't, we are already fulfilling our main goal of spurring debate and educating people about the issues. We hope this will have an effect on who people support in November.

Cathy Van Maren
Bring Them Home - La Crosse
Coulee Progressives
. . . . . . .

An Iraq Combat Veteran's Mother's
State of Out Family Address

My brothers and sisters in peace I wish I could tell you that since my son has returned to civilian life our family is whole and happy but this is not the case. My 21 year old son is homeless, unemployed and on Jan. 11th in the early morning he drove his car over an embankment. Anyone who has seen the car says he shouldn't have survived the crash.

I remember the day I got the phone call..My son was back in the states. I fell to the floor sobbing, thanking the creator that my son was alive. Little did I know at that time that all that returned was a physical shell. My son's spirit and soul must still be wandering the streets of Iraq.

You'd have to know my son. This child turned man. My son used to be a sensitive guy. I remember when he wanted a kitten because dogs scared him. We went to a farm and he picked the scrawniest, ugliest smallest kitten there. My son slept with that cat till the day he left for boot camp. Is this the same person that used to hold my hand as a teenager or throw his arm around me when we were out in public? Is this the same person that we always made sure we said goodnight to each other and expressed our love? When we were apart talked on the phone as frequently as possible and always ended each phone call with I love you? Is this the son who held me in his arms and we cried together at the airport when he was leaving for Iraq? Where is my son? GEORGE BUSH, GIVE ME BACK MY SON!

My son wouldn't look me in the eyes when he first returned from Iraq. He always seemed nervous and jumpy. Riding in the car with him as he weaved from lane to lane avoiding any road debris. Tollbooths made him crazy. He didn't sleep at night and seemed on edge. Alcohol was becoming his way to induce sleep.

Fast forward to August 2005. I hadn't heard from my son in awhile. He has been slowly pushing away everyone that loves and cares for him. We live in different states and it's hard to track him. In August I found him. He looked like a skeleton. He looked so skinny. The soldier's body long gone. His eyes held sadness. He asked for 20 bucks for food he had none in his refrigerator. He only visited with me a half hour even though I had driven 300 miles to see him. He took off. I went home. The phone calls became less and less. Days turned to months. I didn't hear from him at thanksgiving, not a word at Christmas, New years passed with out a sound.

Then came the dream. Mothers are bonded to their children. We know their hurts, their pains, we feel them even when their thousands of miles away. On January 9th the dream came. In the dream there was an Iraqi, my son and me. We were attached through ropes. Suddenly my son was hoisted in the air and his body slammed against a beam and he couldn't breathe he was choking…I will never forget the look in his eyes. I woke up unnerved and unable to return to sleep. The next morning I called my son's ex-girlfriend. He had recently x'ed her out of his life they had been dating since sophomore year in high school. She stated my son had been arrested over the weekend for fighting. My son has only had one speeding ticket in his entire life..Certainly not violent. Then 2 hours later my mother called. When my son returned from Iraq he bought a car with his combat pay, my mother cosigned. My mom stated that the bank had contacted her about a week ago and he was behind in payments. The car was up for repossession. I was becoming increasingly worried. When I got into work the next day I had an emergency phone call from my sons ex girlfriend. She told me through her tears that my son had driven his car over an embankment. She saw the car she couldn't believe he survived. She had talked to some of his friends that told her he was crying that night and talking about the war. Whenever my son gets a few beers in him his friends tell me he talks about the war. they describe it as "Crazy talk". He wants the blood of the Iraqis he killed off his hands. He then left and drove his car at high speed over an embankment.

I have spoken with my son twice since then. I didn't go see him at his request. The first time I spoke with him I began crying telling him how much I love him. His response "Whatever"

The second conversation he said he feels better. Does he feel better because his body feels bruised and broken? It now matches his insides.

George Bush is going to give us his state of the union…….well this is the state of my family. People say to me he volunteered he knew what he was getting into. My son was still a teenager he had no idea what he was getting into. Can anyone really comprehend war unless they've been there?The war has come home…it is coming home with each soldier.

My son's body survived Iraq……nothing else.

Warrior for Peace,
Georgia Stillwell
Military Families Speak Out member
. . . . . . .

Vets Back Murtha:
Bring Them Home Now!

Contact information for Congressman Murtha is http://www.house.gov/murtha/write.shtml

November, 19th, 2005

To: Rep, John Murtha
Western Pennsylvania

Dear Representative Murtha,

Greetings from Baton Rouge, Louisiana. My name is Ward Reilly, and I was a volunteer Infantryman, having served as a mortar gunner in the Weapons Platoon of Co. "C", 1st Bn 16th Infantry(Rangers), from 1971 to 1974. I was extremely lucky to have been stationed for 30 months at Panzer Kaserne near Stuttgart, Germany.

I am writing to you today to thank you for your courageous stand in calling for the immediate withdrawal of U.S. troops from Iraq. As you have so eloquently stated, WE, our nation, has now become the enemy, and the reason for the insurgency.

I represent a large group of Veterans who became active in trying to prevent the invasion of Iraq, and have fought, within the system, to try and force a "cease fire" and an immediate withdrawal from Iraq for the exact reasons that you have bravely stated to Congress this week.

Many veterans have signed this letter in support, all men and woman that love our nation. We are vets from every conflict from WWII to Iraq.

The principle reason for this letter of thanks and endorsement of your stand, aside from the stated, is that we want to share with you, one fact that we now believe is the single most important piece of information in regards to the TRUTH about how the war was started.

The White House Administration is now repeatedly stating, to justify their criticism of you and ALL the anti-war citizens, that "all the democrats voted approval for this war side-by-side with the republican members of Congress.

Colonel, we have evidence, provided by veterans that were involved, that the Bush/Cheney administration started strategic bombings of military targets, targets NOT IN the "No-Fly-Zones", four months PRIOR to the congressional vote "authorizing military (military) action" in Iraq.

Sir, that is treason, and a war crime, plain and simple, and it COMPLETELY negates every bit of subterfuge that the administration is stating about their being justified because "Congress voted to allow military action". What we are saying, is that the Administration started the war long before they had approval, and before you voted on authorizing military action.

Obviously, time is of the essence in this matter, as our troops are dying in a war where they can' t really fight back, and they are little more than targets in a country where, as you also stated, they have become the enemy, of an Iraqi people that want them gone NOW.

Thank you again for your courageous stand on this matter....many, many veterans are hanging their hopes on you to stop this disaster as soon as possible.

We the undersigned, at the "School of America's Watch" (SOAW), Ft. Benning, Georgia, and other Veterans from around the nation are, Respectively yours,

R. Ward Reilly RA E-4 U.S. Army Infantry 71-74
Billy Kelly 1 LT USA Infantry CIB, Silver Star, Bronze Star, 2 Purple Hearts
David Cline E-4. USA Infantry Vietnam 3 Purple Hearts, Bronze Star, CIB
Roy Bourgeois U.S. Navy Vietnam Purple Heart
Camilio E Mejia E-6 U.S. Army Infantry Iraq
Fred Louis E-S USA 67-69 Purple Heart Vietnam
Chuck Heyn E-5 USA 66-68 Combat Medical Badge, Silver Star
Douglas Drews E-6 USAF 68-72 Vietnam
Daniel Rutter TSgt USAF 87- Present 66TRS Pensacola, AF
Joshua Casteel E-4 USA 97-05 Iraqi Freedom
Michael Hoffman E-3 USMC 99-03 OIF / Founding Member IVAW
Nick Przybyla E-4 USN Afghanistan / IVAW
Dennis Kyne E-5 USA 87-03 Operation Desert Storm
Chad Hetman 0-3 USA 94-Ind
Gordon Soderberg HM3 USN 82-87 Service in the Middle East
Jim Goodnow SN1 USCG 59-61
Debra J. Clark AGT USA 76-84 CID
Mariela Guzman E-5 USN 98-02
Marty Bates E-7 USAF 20 Years
Bob Gronko E-2 USMC 73-76
Ron Chew USA 53-56
Gary Sorensen E-4 USA 61-64
Tom Contrestan E-4 USA 70-72
Hervie Harris E-4 USN 65-69 3 Tours Vietnam
David Waters E-5 USA 66-69 Vietnam Veteran
Gary Cheney USA 67-70 Vietnam Veteran
Reid Jenkins USCG 68-72
Phil Standon USN 59-70
Will Thomas E-3 USN 61-63 Cuban Campaign
Rudy Simons USA 51-53 Korea
Ray Kell USA 45-46 South America
Jack Neis CPT USAF 64-69
Wayne Wittman USN 48-51
William Sloan USA 59-62 Germany / Berlin Wall
George Aros E-6 USAF 68-76 1st SRW
Archie Goodwin USAF 43-45
John H. Moore Lt USA 62-65
Ray Parrish SGT USAF 72-75 Turkey
Scott Satterwhite HMZ USN 90-99 3rd Marine Division, Okinawa
Tom Palumbo E-5 USA 78-91
Richard Gilchrist E-5 USA 59-61 Vietnam
William Ryerson E-4 USAF 65-69 Korea
George E. Taylor Lt. USN 61-65
Jim Steinhagen PFC USMC 48-52 Korea
Wayne Olson E-4 USA 62-69 Vietnam
Edward Bloomer E-4 USA 66-68
William A. Basinger HM2 USN 53-68 Japan Occupation / Korea
Gerry Waite CPT USA 68-81 Vietnam
John Amidon USMC 65-69
Larry Shwarczynski USA 63-66
Jim Driscoll USMC 67-70 Platoon Commander Vietnam
Elliott Adams USA 173rd Airborne Vietnam / Korea
William Von Andton CW2 USA 68-70 Vietnam
Jack Gilroy USA 53-56 Austria / Germany
Phil Stanton USN 69-70 Vietnam
Ellen Barfield USA 77-81
John Murray USA 51-53
David Mezzera 1 LT USA 68-70 Vietnam
Barry Scanlon E-5 USMC 72-76
Ed Vail 1LT USA 3 years RVN 5 months
Thompson Bradley E-4 USA 56-58
Patrick Reising E-5 USA 69-71 Vietnam
John Grant E-5 USA Vietnam
Barry Riesch E-4 USA Vietnam
Frank Corcoran E-4 USMC Vietnam
Jay D. Alexander E-4 USA 79-90 Panama
David Harris CPT USAF 65-67
Robert Breslin CPT USMC 60-65
Robert Cierna E-5 USA 70-72
Brian McMahon E-4 USA 68-71
Ed Byrne USA 54-55
Joseph Kling USNR 56-68
Joey B King USA 82nd Airborne Division
Archie Wayne Blumhorst USMC 57-63
Barry Scanlan USMC 72-76
Wallace Parker 1LT USA, Vietnam
Tim Goodrich USAF Saudi Arabia
Michael McPhearson, USA CPT, Op Desert Storm

A Flawed Policy Wrapped in an Illusion

[Text of Pennsylvania Congressman John Murtha's November 17 statement to bring the troops home, now!]

The war in Iraq is not going as advertised. It is a flawed policy wrapped in illusion. The American public is way ahead of us. The United States and coalition troops have done all they can in Iraq, but it is time for a change in direction. Our military is suffering. The future of our country is at risk. We can not continue on the present course. It is evident that continued military action in Iraq is not in the best interest of the United States of America, the Iraqi people or the Persian Gulf Region.

General Casey said in a September 2005 Hearing, "the perception of occupation in Iraq is a major driving force behind the insurgency." General Abizaid said on the same date, "Reducing the size and visibility of the coalition forces in Iraq is a part of our counterinsurgency strategy."

For 2 ½ years I have been concerned about the U.S. policy and the plan in Iraq. I have addressed my concerns with the Administration and the Pentagon and have spoken out in public about my concerns. The main reason for going to war has been discredited. A few days before the start of the war I was in Kuwait – the military drew a red line around Baghdad and said when U.S. forces cross that line they will be attacked by the Iraqis with Weapons of Mass Destruction – but the US forces said they were prepared. They had well trained forces with the appropriate protective gear.

We spend more money on Intelligence than all the countries in the world together, and more on Intelligence than most countries GDP. But the intelligence concerning Iraq was wrong. It is not a world intelligence failure. It is a U.S. intelligence failure and the way that intelligence was misused.

I have been visiting our wounded troops at Bethesda and Walter Reed hospitals almost every week since the beginning of the War. And what demoralizes them is going to war with not enough troops and equipment to make the transition to peace; the devastation caused by IEDs; being deployed to Iraq when their homes have been ravaged by hurricanes; being on their second or third deployment and leaving their families behind without a network of support.

The threat posed by terrorism is real, but we have other threats that cannot be ignored. We must be prepared to face all threats. The future of our military is at risk. Our military and their families are stretched thin. Many say that the Army is broken. Some of our troops are on their third deployment. Recruitment is down, even as our military has lowered its standards. Defense budgets are being cut. Personnel costs are skyrocketing, particularly in health care. Choices will have to be made. We can not allow promises we have made to our military families in terms of service benefits, in terms of their health care, to be negotiated away. Procurement programs that ensure our military dominance cannot be negotiated away. We must be prepared. The war in Iraq has caused huge shortfalls at our bases in the U.S.

Much of our ground equipment is worn out and in need of either serious overhaul or replacement. George Washington said, "To be prepared for war is one of the most effective means of preserving peace." We must rebuild our Army. Our deficit is growing out of control. The Director of the Congressional Budget Office recently admitted to being "terrified" about the budget deficit in the coming decades. This is the first prolonged war we have fought with three years of tax cuts, without full mobilization of American industry and without a draft. The burden of this war has not been shared equally; the military and their families are shouldering this burden.

Our military has been fighting a war in Iraq for over two and a half years. Our military has accomplished its mission and done its duty. Our military captured Saddam Hussein, and captured or killed his closest associates. But the war continues to intensify. Deaths and injuries are growing, with over 2,079 confirmed American deaths. Over 15,500 have been seriously injured and it is estimated that over 50,000 will suffer from battle fatigue. There have been reports of at least 30,000 Iraqi civilian deaths.

I just recently visited Anbar Province Iraq in order to assess the conditions on the ground. Last May 2005, as part of the Emergency Supplemental Spending Bill, the House included the Moran Amendment, which was accepted in Conference, and which required the Secretary of Defense to submit quarterly reports to Congress in order to more accurately measure stability and security in Iraq. We have now received two reports. I am disturbed by the findings in key indicator areas. Oil production and energy production are below pre-war levels. Our reconstruction efforts have been crippled by the security situation. Only $9 billion of the $18 billion appropriated for reconstruction has been spent. Unemployment remains at about 60 percent. Clean water is scarce. Only $500 million of the $2.2 billion appropriated for water projects has been spent. And most importantly, insurgent incidents have increased from about 150 per week to over 700 in the last year. Instead of attacks going down over time and with the addition of more troops, attacks have grown dramatically. Since the revelations at Abu Ghraib, American casualties have doubled. An annual State Department report in 2004 indicated a sharp increase in global terrorism.

I said over a year ago, and now the military and the Administration agrees, Iraq can not be won "militarily." I said two years ago, the key to progress in Iraq is to Iraqitize, Internationalize and Energize. I believe the same today. But I have concluded that the presence of U.S. troops in Iraq is impeding this progress.

Our troops have become the primary target of the insurgency. They are united against U.S. forces and we have become a catalyst for violence. U.S. troops are the common enemy of the Sunnis, Saddamists and foreign jihadists. I believe with a U.S. troop redeployment, the Iraqi security forces will be incentivized to take control. A poll recently conducted shows that over 80% of Iraqis are strongly opposed to the presence of coalition troops, and about 45% of the Iraqi population believe attacks against American troops are justified. I believe we need to turn Iraq over to the Iraqis.

I believe before the Iraqi elections, scheduled for mid December, the Iraqi people and the emerging government must be put on notice that the United States will immediately redeploy. All of Iraq must know that Iraq is free. Free from United States occupation. I believe this will send a signal to the Sunnis to join the political process for the good of a "free" Iraq.

My plan calls:

To immediately redeploy U.S. troops consistent with the safety of U.S. forces.

To create a quick reaction force in the region.

To create an over- the- horizon presence of Marines.

To diplomatically pursue security and stability in Iraq

This war needs to be personalized. As I said before I have visited with the severely wounded of this war. They are suffering.

Because we in Congress are charged with sending our sons and daughters into battle, it is our responsibility, our OBLIGATION to speak out for them. That's why I am speaking out.

Our military has done everything that has been asked of them, the U.S. can not accomplish anything further in Iraq militarily.

IT IS TIME TO BRING THEM HOME.