New York State Marches for Peace

Commentary 21 May ‘08
By Roland Micklem

“Walking the Walk”

I didn’t want to go home. As the van swallowed the miles between Watertown and Weedsport, I could not have been more energized had I ingested a pound of caffeine. And this was a wholesome, healthy high, fueled by newly formed friendships and the shared experience of participating in a challenging and meaningful happening.

Sean, Eli, Travis, Faith and I were returning from Watertown, the Mecca to which we had walked and biked as part of the pro-peace action known as New York State Marches for Peace, which took place May 8-17.

Our mission was twofold: to show support for both the troops currently in Iraq and veterans of the engagement, and to advocate for the health care needed to heal the psychological and physical damage resulting from their involvement. We were also marching to reiterate the futility, the tragedy, and the illegality of a war that should never have been fought. But more specifically, we were marching because 4000 of our people have come home in coffins, because of the 1.6 million deployed, 300,000 are suffering from serious psychological disorders, because the suicide rate among those returning is 18/day. And we were marching because over 2 million Iraqis are homeless because of the war we precipitated, and because more Iraqis have lost their lives since the beginning of the conflict than the Pentagon has bothered to count.

We were part of a body of peace activists, many of whom were veterans of previous wars, whose ranks swelled as we approached Watertown to nearly 70 participants. At 79, I was the oldest, and to my knowledge, the only WW II era veteran in the company. A few of the marchers had pounded the pavement all the way from starting points in Rochester, Utica, and Ithaca. Sean and Russell–a walker from Buffalo who was returning in another vehicle–were dubbed the “blister brothers,” and both covered the entire 94 miles from Rochester on foot.

I joined the march in Wolcott with my bicycle and panniers loaded with everything I presumed I’d need, with the intent of pushing the bike as I trudged along with the rest of the walkers. Big Mistake! It didn’t take many strides before my back began to creak, my hand began to numb out at the point of contact with the handlebars, and this and other petty discomforts which soon morphed into major pains convinced me that bicycles were made for riding, not pushing, and that I’d best mount up and pedal the rest of the way to W’town.

Not wishing to get too far ahead of the pack, and to make the witness for peace that was the purpose of the march, I evolved my own strategy. I’d grab a handful of our flyers, strike out ahead of the column, and distribute them to whomsoever I chanced across. As I could move twice as fast as the marchers, I had plenty of time to herald the coming of the peace troops behind me and to listen to what people had to say about the war and the men and women committed to fight it. Many had close friends and relatives who had been or were expecting to be deployed and there was much concern over the prospects of their loved ones’ safe return.

The anti-war sentiment was as palpable as the highway itself. Passing motorists honked horns and signaled support with the traditional peace sign, and I chanced across very few who believed the war justifiable. I talked to people puttering around in their yards, the owner of a second hand shop, some guys running a heavy equipment business, a young couple with a second-hand tire shop, and a number of auto salespeople in dealerships lining the strip south of Watertowns city limits.

Our ranks alternately swelled and dwindled as people dropped out and joined the march, but there was a core group that walked for all or almost all of the entire stretch. Bill Privett, a middle age suburbanite, a devout Catholic, and a walking archive of facts and figures, Kathy Castania, a tireless leader who was everywhere at once–handling logistics, listening to complaints and concerns, and gently diffusing the anger of the more vocal anti-march people we encountered. Vicky Ross, another of our leaders, our radiator of good will, whose upbeat vibes were the perfect antidote for our over-the-road doldrums, Russell, a Viet Nam veteran whose pro-peace convictions were forged in the turmoil of war. His blisters were many and large, but he refused to get off his feet. His spiritual radiance: a light for us all. Sean, also a veteran, our video chronicler, another archive of useful information which will help us tell the real story of this war. By carefully doctoring his blisters at days end, he was always ready for another day on the road.

There’s lots more: The Grand Finale in Watertown’s Different Drummer Cafe, the delegation of veterans who confronted Ft. Drum’s surrogate commander about health care for military and ex-military personnel, and testimonials by members of IVAW (Iraq Veterans Against the War). We made new friends, shared ideas, gained insights, picked up additional facts, and now see ourselves as part of a rising tide against this misadventure in American foreign policy. We went away with a strengthened concept of patriotism: the obligation to critique decisions made by our leaders and to oppose those which are morally wrong and which create suffering for both our own people and those of other nations.

We will carry on until the last of our people have left Iraq.

Reflections on 120-mile peace march

William H. Privett
Regional Coordinator, Pax Christi WNY

In mid-May, I marched 120 miles to the Fort Drum area from Rochester. Fifty of us reached our destination with Iraq Vets Against the War and Military Families (See nysmarchesforpeace.org.) Pax Christi WNY, the Catholic Peace Movement, was a co-sponsor of the march.

The group issued these calls all along the way: a) Immediate withdrawal from Iraq; b) Full benefits and services for returning veterans, c) End corporate pillaging in Iraq; d) Pay reparations for the human and structural damages Iraq has suffered; and finally, e) Civilians need to share the soldiers’ burden.

I have been asked whether this peace march was a “standard peace rally or was it really supporting the troops”. It amazes me that our dialogue in the US is so polarized: We who call for the troops to return home safely are not “supporting the troops”, while others who prefer that they continue to shoot people and be shot at, are supporting them.

Walking 120-miles affords plenty of time for reflection along the way.

Iraq War Vets and Military Families share their stories in small towns along the way. “My four brothers signed up. We are poor. It is the only way they can see to afford college.” “Eighteen Iraq War Vets commit suicide each day, 6500 projected for this year. 300,000 are returning with mental depression, PTSD or traumatic brain injury.” I try to hide my tears from the group.

Two men along the way behave in threatening ways. One, who I did not encounter, threatens to “kill” one of our marchers. The other calls us profanities. He blames us for causing the deaths of so many soldiers and threatens us when we reach our destination. The Buffalo-area Vietnam Veteran with me tries to talk calmly with him, but there is no room for conversation.

I think about “corporate pillaging” recalling a recent Doug Turner column in The News on billions in reconstruction funds being wasted.

Roland, a 79 year-old journalist rides a bicycle with us. He “would rather make the news than write about it”. He finds this march transforming.

One marcher recognizes me from 15 years ago. She is the picture of innocence. I am thinking that we should all emulate her. The world would be a peace.

I state to the group one evening that this is a spiritual walk for me, that I see that we are a small rag tag band that is powerless. I tell them that this will be effective if our small offering of bread and fish can be multiplied by God into something that changes the world into a peaceful place to live and play.

I leave for an evening, drive 3- hours back to Leroy, NY, to address the Genesee County Lay Vicariate on “How Might a Christian View War?” The group is attentive. Only two of seventeen say they had received moral guidance on war from their parish. I am thinking that it is no wonder that a 2007 survey found that half of all US Catholics thinks that the Iraq war is a good idea.

One of my sons calls me. He is an Army veteran with whom I have had strong disagreement about the war, He reminds me that, “Some people want the war to continue. You never want war. The end of this war will come when the two groups can hash out the difference.”

We arrive to applause at the Different Drummer Café in Watertown. I am realizing that my son is correct. I am thinking that without groups like ours, those who want war will succeed in getting it.

It was an unforgettable experience - of building, caring, sharing, working together for the common good. Building community in every sense and in so many ways - amongst the planners, the sponsors, the walkers, the drivers, the support people, the hosts, those who talked and shared with us along the way - sometimes even their tears for loved ones in harm’s way, tears of gratitude for the care and concern that led to and energized the walk, or even receiving ours . . . .Building community in the largest sense even seems to apply to the outpouring of support by the vast majority of the Watertown population through honking, waving, and - especially - giving the peace sign to the walkers.

Of course, wonderful as walking can be - it was not the point: many who can’t walk (or walk as much) through illness, injury, and/or physical limitations of whatever kind are no less supporters of this wave of the Peace Movement. One of us “walkers” - Rick from Rochester - was in a wheelchair (who, by the way, could’ve left us in the dust if he chose to race on ahead). And the children -Saiersha from Ithaca, Ori from Wolcott, Abie from Pulaski (? Or Oswego?) - sometimes in walkers or in support vehicles were clearly no less important (maybe more). Or those who nobly kept going - or wisely didn’t - who had severe blisters, or back conditions, or heart conditions, or just plain worn out - it was about an ever-changing community with people coming in and out, not about an individual walking but about a community moving through and joining with other more stationary communities, all to the one goal of Peace for All, stopping this immoral and illegal war and yes, working for the common good.

And wonderful as moving can be, it was also not the point - the Festival, the Celebration upon our arrival . . . sharing the wonderful space at the Different Drummer where so much courage and wisdom is being displayed and developed, as well as, most of all, compassion. This is where peace and justice are growing, and swords becoming ploughshares .

I wake up each morning dreaming of a new day on the Walk . . . — Vicki Ross, Buffalo