OCR Text |
Show THE ZEPHYROCTOBER 1990 PAGE 2 stand my ground. "Well, I'll page two "It Is well that war Is so terrible, or we should grow fond of It E bert Lee Some Images from the television screen. The NBC Nightly News Is sharing video "dispatches from the Saudi Arabia desert A soldier, maybe 18 or 19 years old, dressed In desert camo fatigues and sporting a peach fuzz mustache, Is grinning nervously at the camera. "I Just want to say hi to my girlfriend, Eriene. I love this beach but where's the water? Another marine appears. He's from East St Louis, Missouri. He says hello to his family and friends back home and promises, "We'll be home soon. The boy looks off camera and starts to walk away, but suddenly stops and awkwardly raises his hand and says "Peace. Other Images. Other voices. Speaker Of The House, Thomas Foley and Senate Maority Leader George Mitchell, both Democrats, pledge their support to the President during this great crisis. The TV camera moves In close to fill the screen with the "twisted, Hussein. No one seems to be sure demented face of the "Butcher of Bagdad to name or which syllable how to pronounce his first place the emphasis on. As Tom Brokaw says goodnight and the credits roll, we see a video montage of scenes from the desert tanks rumbling across endless dunes, young soldiers Intently reading letters from home, or waving at the camera, or, as In most cases, simply staring at space. They look lost and alone. Over these Images, the producers have laid In the soundtrack from Tom Petty's hit song, Wont Back Down. It gives the prospect of war a nice, trendy effect.. 1 "Well, I wont back down. No, I wont back down. You can stand me up at the Gates of Hell, But I wont back down. Wont be turned around. And Ill keep this world from draggln' me down, And I wont back down. The children always fight the wars for the leaders who decide they must be fought This little ruckus has all the support any war could dream of. The national media has given Its blessing with patriotic headlines like "DRAWING THE UNE or "BATTLE READY, these from recent Newsweek "RALLYING 'ROUND THE FLAG and "WHY WE MUST FIGHT stories. Unlike Vietnam, Its promoters proclaim, this was has the support of the American people. And Indeed, a poll In that same Issue of Newsweek Indicated that 75 of those questioned support President Bush's handling of the crisis. But don't forget who does our dirty work who does the fighting, and dying. I cant forget the last war the Bad War. Everyone remembers Vietnam as a terrible tragedy and a grievous mistake. Very few remember that when President Lyndon Johnson dramatically escalated the war after the Gulf Of Tonkin Incident (read your history books), 72 of the American people supported his actions. Congress foil all over Itself giving the President broad powers to wage war without the Congress's consent By votes of 88-- 2 and 414-- 0, the Senate and House agreed to Johnsons demands. One of the dissenting senators, Wayne Morse, wrotp: "I believe that history will record that we have made a grevlous mistake In subverting and circumventing the Constitution of the United States. J)y means of this resolution. We are In effect giving the President warmaking powers In the absence of a declaration of war. Senator Morse was ridiculed by his colleagues, castigated by his opponents, and by the voters of Oregon In November 1964. soundly defeated for For myself, I wish I could say I was one of the enlightened youth who saw the horror and Immorality of that war. I wish Id been mature enough to see what the war was doing to the country. I wish I could translate the body counts on the nightly news, to real human beings who were being sacrificed hourly. But I couldn't not for a long time. My only excuse Is that I was young and stupid. Just like the soldier on the Saudi Arabian ' desert Just like the kid at the park concert Coming from a conservative, middle-cla- ss I In with a a student deferment, was safe and secure southern college family, enrolled as a TV screen and enough to view the war as an abstraction. It was as the pages of TIME I didnt even know anyone who was In Vietnam...! had no personal connection. When Nixon put an end to student deferments and Imposed a draft lottery, my drew number 39. The lower the number, the greater chance of being drafted I birthday was a goner. But even then, with the real probability that Id be a part of Americas Fighting Forces In a matter of months, the gravity of It all foiled to sink In to my thick, teenage skull. The day after the lottery was broadcast on national television, I actually strolled Into the student cafeteria wearing an army fatigue Jacket and proclaiming that I was ready "to shoot It out with Charley. My friends chuckled, (they were as stupid as I) and together, we compared numbers and examined the future. There was consensus at the table more than death, more than being wounded and maimed, we feared getting haircuts. We feared uniforms without pants. We feared being forced to wake up at 5a.m. We failed to discuss the moral Implications. Slowly, however, the war came to usT My friend, Marty Tlttlebaum, (real name -no kidding) was the first to be drafted. I drove him to the Induction center at 5 o'clock In the morning on a cold day In February. It seemed like a bad dream to me I couldn't Imagine how Marty felt Ron McKinney, "the Cheese Man, went next When I saw him again, years later, he would not talk about Vietnam he couldn't I finally decided to quit college, buy a motorcycle and travel across America until draft my papers came. It was a long, lonely drive across a country that I was just now beginning to look at and I saw was a country tearing Itself apart Although I was hardly a rebel myself, my motorcycle seemed to be a symbol of rebellion to every adult I encountered. The trip across Tennessee to Arkansas to Oklahoma became a series of scornful stares, turned backs, and flipped Angers. In a diner In Oklahoma, the cook wouldnt serve me because he thought I was a draft dodger. I headed for my bike, but was stopped by a gangly kid In overalls. A farmer's son, I figured. "Hey, he said, just want you to know that not all Okies from Muskogee are Jerks. He handed me a card and walked away. It was a computer punch card. I held It up to the light The punched out holes read "PEACE" re-elec- tion two-dimensi- bell-bott- few nights later, at a concert at the Old City Park, I watch a college student become an obnoxious drunk. Well, why not? I think. Thats ust as Important a part of the process as going to class. The band has taken a break and the emcee Is asking for bad jokes from the crowd. The young Inebriate stumbles to the stage and tells his favorite bad joke to the two or three hundred people who are there. The Joke Is beyond bad beyond vile. The audience gasps, then boos and hisses. He walks back to his group, humiliated, but Indignant In a shaky show of bravado, he lifts a half-fu- ll bottle of vodka to his mouth and chugs It Pounds down ten ounces of vodka. His friends are furious. That was the last of the vodka. In a few seconds, his eyes roll back In their sockets and his face begins to swell. His girlfriend suggests that he be sick elsewhere. As I watched him stagger and then fall Into the bushes, I remembered those dispatches from the Saudi Arabian desert soldiers. Had this kid, who was now on his knees puking his guts Into a lilac bush, been given a different deck of cards to deal from, had his life taken a slightly different turn, this nauseated young man might well be one of those young soldiers sent to defend his countrv aaalnsL..aaalnst what? Im really not sure. A know no safe depository of the ultimate powers of the society but the people themselves; if we think them not enlightened enough to exercise their control with a wholesome discretion, the remedy is not to take it from them, but to inform their discretion. Thomas Jefferson om 1 1 THE CANYON COUNTRY (801) 3 contributing writers Lance Christie, Ken Davey Marcy Till, Jane S. Jones 1990 The Canyon Country Zephyr all rights reserved The Canyon Country Zephyr is a monthly newspaper, published eleven times a year at Moab, Utah. The opinions expressed herein are not necessarily those of its vendors, advertisers, or even at times of its publisher . kin inner Xiiim, tuhrtf iiiiiniiiiiM mu 2 z ;i mi iiniini m m z 2 . USf KMdeA I mmniiwri enrtfioK) v A CifI ii m i MiiiiiiiiiiM ii8iiiillt mu yi r p&mii:im3jgTlll3 rmi4444 im Wpllllll lllli iiinijS mi W hjp I i production manager ti .h'SVkinlLk B0 .YJJN'.-V-l BCP'-sT- (ID-M- iillllllU4iiioaaoouoootDiotibMitilDoiCIIIIIIIII Tt $ mi& t t Trish West ml OZlb V wiy Ammilllluimlilllllllm timmimmss! JIM STILES, PUBLISHER c Soibcl0 fiiittii ?mmmmiH44imiim4( MOAB, UTAH 84532 259-777- 30(3 s ftllllniinllllmllll ZEPHYR P.O. BOX 327 i l il 2 NCiiMHIfflll i 'Mft l 4 4liftjimill II II I III BANIIIhtitllllt SfS'ytfcf ;i ? pi in nllll? "wh 1 1 iiiiiiiiiii'iiiiajXttjfAMiiii'iiWiiiiyi.4iiiiiiiiiip 11111111111,1111.1. ........ Ai4iai..au..iiiMiMMi 34.1 3 4 111 J. Eventually I made It to the coast At Long Beach, I found my friend Larry Bemls, who had graduated the previous June. Now, he was an ensign In the U.S. Navy and expected to set sail for the Orient any day. Neither of us could believe that Just a year ago, our greatest concern was surviving class with a hangover. I left Bemls on the USS Chandler and headed up the coastal highway to Big Sur, but I never got that for. At Santa Maria, I was run over by a truck. I hit him almost head-o- n, sailed over the handlebars, ricocheted off his windshield with my head, and sailed 85 feet through the air. The first guy to reach me asked If I was "clean." I told him I took a shower that morning, progs man, he said. Do you have any drugs? No, I said. I was, after all, from Kentucky. Somehow, Id managed to survive the wreck with only a badly broken foot After a week In the hospital, my parents paid to fly me home. Five months later, just out of the cast, I received a notice to appear for my draft physical. With a note from my orthopedic surgeon, the army flunked me, temporarily, but promised to give me another look In a year. So by getting squashed like a bug on my motorcycle, I stayed out of the army. A Nixon abolished the draft, and the threat of later year haircuts and 5 a.m. wakeup mandatory calls passed away forever. By the time I finally recognized the real threat It was gone for awhile. msm |