Dear Reader, Korean War veteran and retired
school teacher John Fortier, who is also a husband, father, grandfather and
great-grandfather, has conducted a peace vigil each Friday along a busy Pacific
Coast Highway street corner in Redondo Beach, CA since March, 2003.
He
began that peace vigil to protest a war President George W. Bush was about to
launch in Iraq, a war that would become an absolute disaster, costing hundreds
of thousands of men, women and children their lives and destroying
Iraq.
Yet for nearly 10 years of peace vigils, John has often been out on
that street corner to the naked eye very much alone. It takes real courage and
principle to do what John does.
In last Friday's vigil, John tells the
story of a man whose brother's life was destroyed by Post Traumatic Stress
Disorder from the Vietnam War, another U.S. disaster.
But like so many
other wars the U.S. now fights, people are left to bury their dead, find homes
for their orphans and do so without a trace, and without any assessment by the
American people as to whether all the violence made any sense. The Afghanistan
War is an excellent example. Thousands of people dead in this 11 year old war
and nothing to show for it, and no-one held accountable. Yet this war continues
to be fought.
John writes with a homespun feel that makes his writings
interesting to read, yet he writes of the ugliness of war, something he saw
first hand in Korea. By contrast, the last two U.S. presidents, Obama and
Bush who triggered all of the current violence, like me, have never been to war,
never had to witness all the death and destruction.
Here is John's
description of last Friday's vigil:
Friday
Last ^ night had an unusual but not unique
element, its motivation. From the top, it goes like
this.
About 4:30 a nicely casually dressed gent
about 50 comes walking briskly from the parking lot on Knob Hill to my corner at
PCH. He has a digital-camera-phone in hand, so I'm guessing he might be
interested in picture taking. I'm tempted to offer or invite him to take
pictures,
but there is a very real possibility that
that is not his intention and , not wanting to seem to him a real narcissistic
ego-tripper, I just sit. And wait.
"Would you mind if I took your picture?" he
asks.
"If I don't have to disrobe, and if the
signs are in focus and prominent, help yourself," I recite my usual sophomoric
excuse for a more mature and civil, " Not at all, feel free,
please."
I said it was unusual but not unique;
here's why. Remember last year a high school journalism group visited us on the
corner, interviewed and recorded us, and put the result on the high school
site/blog? And then last week a lady took some pictures for a contest she had
entered? And a few people have snapped shots from passing cars too. Right
?
So,
though definitely not unique, last night was singular in that it is part of this
man's homage to his brother who has been ravaged and wrecked by PTSD (post
traumatic stress disorder). The fellow's name is Emile, and he is on a quest to
arouse awareness, concern, and outrage about PTSD and the totally inadequate
band aid approach to treatment he feels is currently being
given.
He
said he had driven by the corner, noticing my signs and me many times and kept
thinking about stopping but never quite could bring himself to do it. What
finally decided him was the irony of the big handsome city sign behind me, and
very readable by southbound traffic, that says in part - 'Vietnam Veteran's
Memorial . . .' His brother is a Vietnam vet, and the fact that I, a vet of the
previous war (Korea, for you youngsters) that was also an absolute failure, am
sitting in front of a sign referring to his brother's war, an even more
disastrous failure - he groped for words at times about how wrong, how obviously
wrong and stupid it has all been. We talked about how, despite money by the ton
wasted, lost or stolen, civilian family and friends had to buy better head gear
protection against roadside bomb damage. Rumsfeld was right. He said you don't
go to war with the army you want; you go to war with the army you've got. The
third possibility, of course, that never occurred to that evil ego-maniac, was
to not go to war at all.
He
left about 5:15 and plans to return earlier this coming Friday to chat some more
and maybe get some better pictures in better light. It's a little embarrassing
and awkward talking with him about his brother and the damages he suffered,
since he was a foot soldier down in the mud and the blood. When my pilot took
me on a mission, I was wearing clean socks and shorts, and I came back the same
way, got a crew member chow pass and went and got a steak dinner, whatever time
it was. It's hard to believe we were on the same side of the same stupid war
business
If
he gets his blog thing going, I'll put the name out there so folks who are
interested can take a look.
A
mutual friend of Dick and mine, Grant by name, came by shortly after Emile left.
He hung around till almost 6 talking about Emile's problems and plans and the
probable hopelessness of his case. It was a sad way to end a sad
evening.
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