Why We Stand In Vigil

Day Five: As we approach the March 19th fifth anniversary of the Iraq War, we continue our series of thoughts, and words written between 2003 and 2008. In September 2004, Bob and I took part in a candlelight vigil to mark the milestone of 1,000 American Military Casualties in Iraq. That number now stands at 3,987 (13 March 2008). Support our troops… bring them home. NO MORE WAR!

WHY WE STAND IN VIGIL
9 September 2004 – Journal Notes

8 pm candlelight vigil to mark the milestone of 1,000 US military deaths in Iraq. Courthouse lawn. Windy and cold… partly cloudy… some stars visible. Small group, maybe thirty people, all ages and pretty evenly divided between women and men. Hard to keep candles lit. For 45 minutes to an hour we held our candles and talked quietly amongst ourselves about the state our country is in. I sat in a deck chair because of my ailing back. Bob and I took turns holding the poster we had made earlier in the day to show that we also mourned the 10,000 Iraqi civilians who have lost their lives. People would walk up and look at the 3-sided poster.

A dog came by, put her nose in my lap. The flame I carefully shielded went out. At the other end of the dog’s leash was a man carrying a plastic shopping bag. He profusely apologized, wanting to light the candle again for me, but he discovered he didn’t have his lighter with him. I told him it was okay, it had gone out many times already, and Bob relit the candle for me.

The man looked at my poster and then began to talk, haltingly, with a slight tremor, searching for the right word. He explained that he was a Vietnam War veteran, 52 years old. He was #3 on the last year of the draft, so he volunteered and became a medic. He flew in a chopper and took grenade fragments to his head when a grenade was thrown at the chopper blade. He showed us the scar running from nose to the top of his head, between his eyes. He said he was lucky because he didn’t lose his eyes. His dog ‘Sally’ is a trained aide-dog, and helps him get around, helps him up when he falls down. She is part golden lab and part blue heeler.

As he talks to us about the insanity of war (he lost friends and two cousins in the First Gulf War), he struggles to hold back tears. “Why do we do this? Why do we think we have to be the policemen to the world? Why don’t we just stay at home and take care of ourselves?” Good questions. He thanked us for being there tonight and then continued walking home with Sally leading the way. Bob and I looked at each other, knowing what the other thought. This man who still carries the wounds of war, this man who needs an aide-dog to guide him home, it is for this man and all the young men and women fighting in Iraq right now, that we stand here in quiet vigil.

... P. L. Morningstar
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