The strangest dream

This is hard to write. Some things are so beautiful that words are cheaper than silence.  And if that thing ends sadly so that I am both disappointed and inspired, then it is twice as complex and even harder to write.  That is my disclaimer for these cheap words.

Yesterday we helped fifty of the Iraq Veterans Against the War march 4 miles through the hot sun followed by thousands of people to present their demands of peace to Barak Obama.  I was recruited as a “marshal” and spent 5 hours along the route moving press out of their way as they marched in uniform and formation. They were marching to hold the democratic party accountable for their “initial and continued support for the illegal Iraq war.”   Their demands were:

1. The immediate withdrawal of all occupying forces from Iraq.
2. Full and adequate health care and benefits to all returning service members and veterans.
3. Reparations made to the Iraqi people for the destruction caused by the U.S. war and occupation.

We were followed by thousands of people.  I spent the march as one of small number of marshals whose job it was to protect their formation.  We spent most of the day holding journalists back, who tried to break the formation to get interviews and exclusive photos.   This means I spent nearly the entire march at the front of the formation circling directly around the veterans.  Those in front wore their dress uniforms, while others wore their combat fatigues.   They marched in and out of step, at ease or at attention.  some of them were officers and some were enlisted men.  When they met the police line I was between them and the police, holding the media back. It was the most moving street action that i have ever been a part of.

The platoon in front,  a group of about 25 soldiers planned to be arrested outside of the convention if their letter was not accepted by Obama.  Their plan, I later learned, was to march nonviolently into the police one line after the next in salute while one of them to the side in full regalia played taps.

Instead something different but equally moving occurred.  At the very last minute we were holding the press back with our arms to create a clear channel between the veterans and the police, and the veterans were standing in formation, slowly advancing a few steps every once in a while.  A call had been circulated amongst us by the veteran’s tactical team for all those not willing to be arrested to leave the area.  Those of us who wear contacts had removed them and doused their faces in vinegar to neutralize the pepper-spray that was expected.  Anyway at that moment the  police, secret service and the Obama campaign finally negotiated to send a delegate inside of the convention ar at least near it to meet with Obama’s people and some of us turned our minds instead to the glimmer of hope that the obama campaign and the democratic party might feel the heat enough to accept the demands of the veterans.

There was a breif moment of celebration then the soldiers became somber again and returned stiffly to their positions.  This was about ending a war.   It is nearly impossible to convey the emotions involved.  Until we saw tears form in their eyes and saw them embrace each other later it was hard to tell what emotions went through the veterans anymore, or if like myself they had mostly been driven out by exhaustion and the sun, and the pervasive click of cameras and shuffle of photo-happy journalists  who tried to dodge our outstretched arms and get in close for the good shot while we weren’t looking.

Suddenly the delegation returned, and the word was spread that Obama had agreed to accept the three points of the letter. Emotion returned like a wave over the veterans and behind them the demonstrators who were standing in the street, or safely above it on a large grassy burm.

There is a vision in my head now of seeing the once armed call for peace.  It was a dream being resurrected from my parents generation, a faint whisper of a dream sung to me at bedtime when I was a child.  It was a hope more powerful than anything Barak Obama could give us.

At sunset against a silhouette of riot police and across a chainlink fence from the convention I watched the veterans hands go up in peace signs to celebrate their accomplishment. One of them on a megaphone called for a moment of silence for all those lost in Iraq, and for the Iraqi people themselves.  They held their solute through out that moment. It was the single most moving event I have ever witnessed as an activist.

In a society built on war and the denial of war, a moment like that can cut through all the rest of the bullshit so quickly and eloquently that it blows open the mind.  We are a society that accepts war.  Barak Obama does not plan on changing that.  We can.  One man had marched  all 4 miles with a cane.  Another man had at one point held the megaphone and talked about the deaths that he had seen and the people he had killed, and how his government had betrayed him.  Another one had walked in front of the cameras holding a worn copy of the constitution in his hand.  But mostly they were silent and stared ahead as they marched.  Soldiers marching for peace.

As the press had surged forward we had formed a barrier around the soldiers by holding hands and thus maintaining the integrity of the formation.  I think most of us and most of them were crying at that point. Nick was behind me with tears in his eyes as well but I couldn’t see him. Some said they saw riot police also crying along the line. The Veterans then turned around and marched some yards away and then broke rank and embraced one another.

Still, a day later I can find almost no press coverage of the event.  I had never seen so many reporters in my life.  Where did their stories go?  Killed at the editor’s desk no doubt. Those that I found published in national media were done so in obscure online galleries or washed of most of the meaning.  As for Barak Obama, there has been no public acknowledgment of any pledge to help the veterans.   Somehow he had avoided the public seeing the them being pepper sprayed and arrested in front of the closed doors of the convention.  And without the arrests, the press could all but ignore the whole event.

One of the last things the veterans said was:

“We wont forget this Barak Obama.  We will hold you accountable to your word, throughout your campaign and maybe your presidency.”

This was the best day I have had in a looong time…

I found some of the photos of the event that didn’t make it into the mainstream media.  I would post them here but they cost more money than I have.

Tomorrow morning we will begin our trip north to the RNC.

From Denver,

Logan

————–

“They’re our brothers

they’re our sisters –

we support

the war resisters!”

PS. Here are some more photos we found later. (protests – wednesday)