by Dave Culver

Recently I had the privilege of taking a bus ride with 35 or so dedicated peace activists to join a throng of more than 7, 000 other peace activists from across the nation and world at Ft. Benning (Columbus, GA) the weekend before Thanksgiving to demand the US Army close the School of the Americas (SOA) or Western Hemisphere Institute for Security Cooperation (WHINSEC).

SOA/WHINSEC is an unholy euphemism for a school for terrorists, a school of assassins actually, run by the US Army at Ft. Benning. The continued operation of this"school" ensures that the evils of power, greed, racism, sexism, and militarism are kept alive and active throughout Latin America."Graduates" of this school are responsible for the death squads that martyred Catholic Archbishop Oscar Romero; four Maryknoll missionary nuns in El Salvadore; labor union leaders Isidro Gil and Adolpho Murners in Columbia; six Jesuit priests, their housekeeper, and her daughter; and literally thousands of known and unknown, unnamed others.

This was the 20th anniversary of the protest to close the school, began in 1990 by Maryknoll Father Roy Bourgeois and nine other concerned citizens as a fast to protest this violent instrument of oppression of the citizens of Latin America, corruption, and impunity. In the intervening years, the protest, now organized by the School of the Americas Watch founded by Father Roy, has grown to be the largest non-violent sustained protest action since the Vietnam era.

We left St. Stephen's Church at 8AM Friday, November 19. I did not have to wait to get to Ft. Benning for my experience as an SOA protestor to begin. After our first morning stretch break till early that afternoon I got one of my first experiences of the solidarity that was to envelope me the entire trip as we took turns sharing with the other riders a little of who we were and our reasons for going.

For most of us, like me, it was our first trip; others had been there before (One person was going on his 18th trip!) and took us rookies under their wings. We were senior citizens, young adults, youngsters; we were students, workers, housewives, nuns, retired; we were veterans and civilians; some of us were seasoned protestors, the rest of us were not.

But what held us together in solidarity was our belief that the school of the assassins must be shut down, peace and justice must be restored to Latin America, and that we could make a difference.

As the late afternoon, then evening, and then nightfall came, we continued to bond as we all told stories and shared life experiences. We watched documentaries, the movie"Up," and had a sing-along.

After a fitful night's sleep on the bus, we arrived at Ft. Benning the following mid-morning, Saturday, November 20. We were dropped off at a three-block long mall leading to Ft. Benning's main gate. This was no ordinary mall. On our right as we walked to a stage in front of the gate, were tables operated by the various labor organizations, students, artists, peace activists, organizers, religious leaders, educators, and veterans from around the world. It was here we discovered that the weekend would be more than protest actions; it was organized as a convention designed to educate and motivate participants to the SOA and related issues.

Signs, t-shirts, bumper stickers, buttons, videos, books, and more were on display and for sale. Slogans like"I'm not disturbing the peace, I'm disturbing the war!" were emblazoned on anything that would hold ink. One t-shirt read:"Treat our politicians like NASCAR drivers. Put the names of their corporate sponsors on their jackets." A bumper sticker read,"I can't believe we're still down here protesting the same old crap." My favorite, a button, read:"This country has been reformatted. It has been downsized to fit your fears." Very dark humor was the order of the day!

On the left of the mall were officers from all law enforcement organizations in the region, stationed virtually every ten feet in a three-block long menacing line. As we got adjusted to our surroundings, we noticed dozens of surveillance cameras, heard loud speakers blaring menacing"stay away or be punished severely" messages, and other signs of police-state intimidation, including a police helicopter circling overhead. We joined the rest of the crowd in simply ignoring them, preferring to be caught up in the solidarity and comradeship–and mid-seventy degree sunshine!-- surrounding us.

Behind them, on the front lawns of the homes lining the three blocks, were tables of food and drink served by the homeowners. Columbus may be a typical military town: a seedy collection of brothels and pawnshops. But the barbeque was great!

Our little group began to break up, each caught up with other participants in conversation and other interests. I spent the remainder of the late morning and early afternoon in front of the stage. The music, always the center of any protest action, was totally awesome: songs of protest in folk, blue grass, jazz, rock, and choral genres. There were also speeches and readings.

By mid-afternoon our motel rooms were ready so it was back on the bus for a ride to a much-needed shower and some sleep. Early that evening we went to dinner, then to the convention center for workshops and meetings that lasted 'til late in the evening. A highlight was a liturgy over which activist Bishop Gumbleton presided.

If education was the theme of the first two days, Friday and Saturday, action was the theme of the last day, Sunday. For me it began at 7:45AM for a mile and a half march with seventy-five or so of my fellow Veterans for Peace members and supporters to Ft. Benning. It took us a couple of blocks to get our act together but we were in great form and spirit the rest of the way. But the march was not without it's moments.

As we got closer to Ft. Benning, we attracted more and more police officers, each new one seemingly more menacing than their predecessor. Ten to fifteen police cars chaperoned us to the mall's opening–three blocks from Benning's main gate. There an officer told us we would have to get rid of the PVC pipe that held our American flag and Veterans for Peace banners before we could march in. There were some tense moments between harassing police officers, dedicated and patriotic veterans, and legal assistants. It was my first experience in such a confrontation and, while I held my anger and contempt toward the officer that harassed us, I was strengthened in my resolve to remain peaceful and non-violent by the rest of our group and our leadership.

We took the banner and flag off the PVC pipe and marched down the mall displaying them anyway. People on the mall stopped their activity, cheered, took pictures, and applauded. It was the welcome home march I'd never received when I came home from the killing fields of Viet Nam. My heart swelled with gratitude as tears came to my eyes. I remember little of the remainder of the march down the mall to the stage, except how good I felt.

It was then I learned another lesson in this lesson-filled weekend. We veterans, just by who we are, the experiences we've had, and the stories we tell, have a powerful role to play in the anti-war movement. Veterans for Peace is a significant part of the SOA protest and we are loved, rightly honored, and respected for who we are. Menacing, harassing cops aside, that three block mall is one of the safest places I have ever felt as a vet, truly a home away from home.

The climax of the entire weekend–a funeral procession commemorating all the victims of SOA/WHINSEC violence–took place on the mall in mid-morning, in sunny seventy-five degree weather. Each marcher carried a makeshift wooden cross hewn from rough lumber painted white with the name of a person victimized by SOA/WHINSEC. As each person's name was sung in a litany from the stage, we would all raise our crosses and shout"Presente" – present, here, at least in our memories. As the march continued, the crosses were placed in a chain-link fence in front of the main gate. At the end of the procession the fence was festooned with the thousands of crosses representing the victims of SOA/WHINSEC atrocities.

Mid-afternoon it was back on the bus for the twenty-six hour ride home. This time we shared with our fellow pilgrims our experiences and feelings. Three words sum up my experience: barbeque, solidarity, and resolve.

Barbeque I hope is self-evident!

I have seldom experienced such solidarity. You could walk up to a total stranger, greet them with a hug, and feel like you had known them all your life. It was a time and place of sharing anger, frustration, determination, forgiveness, peace, and love. I came away certain that, if it could happen here at the gate to a military installation, it could happen anywhere.

The experience certainly strengthened my resolve to do all I can to bring justice and peace to this weary world. I was moved by the stories of victims and the patterns of violence perpetrated by the SOA. I wi

Our trip ended as it had begun, but the people who got off the bus in snow and ice at St. Stephens the evening of Monday, May 22, were different from those who had got on the bus a mere 80 hours earlier. Our trip was a life-changing experience for all of us. May it also be a life-changing experience for those whose pain and suffering we dare to voice–the victims of the SOA/WHINSEC.

Attending on the bus:
Alissa Fisher
Anna Wright
Beth Blick
BethAnne Nelson
Chante Wolf
Dave Culver
Dave Logsdon
David R. Neste
Deacon Warner
Dick Foley
Donna Neste
Duane Kamrath
Earl Fish
Geoffrey Hennies
Gerald Ganann
Greg Hagen
Hanna Ankeny
Hanna Esparza
Jenni Schubert
Jill Bachelder
Jim Steinhagen
John Schmid
Kathy Hollander
Kelly Lundeen
Kelsey Mans
Lorenzo Hernandez
Michele Gelaude
Nancy Eder
Ralph Hilgendorf
Sam Karam
Sister Jan
Sr. JoAnn Sturzl
Sr. Myra Remily
Steve McKeown
Tom Sullivan
Tova Lyng
Zach Newton

Also Attending From Minnesota:
Barry Riesch
Cathy Steinhagen
Dan Peterson
Doug Drews
Elizabeth Peterson
Gary Hendlin
Gennie Downey
Jane Steinhagen Peterson
Joe Schmit
Linda Hendlin
Marilyn Schmit
Mr. and Mrs. Don Brandl
Pat Downey
Vern Hall