Arlington West

By April

Now is the time for inconvenient courage. I am a Air Force veteran and every Sunday Veterans for Peace and volunteers gather at the Santa Monica Pier at 7:30am to erect Arlington West, a memorial to the fallen US Military of the current Iraq War. One cross for every service person killed. We reckon that if we were to plant a cross for every Iraqi or Allied person who has been killed in this war it would extend all the way to Malibu.

As the group arrives we unload the crosses from Mark Scully's old blue pick-up. Mark is the coordinator for Arlington West and a veteran from the Vietnam War. At times he is still there and then he returns to the present, his old green eyes jaded and sad. He adjusts his long white ponytail takes a step forward and hands me a stack of crosses.

Last week a new group of eight volunteers showed up. Good Morning! I said cheerily as we unpacked the crosses onto the beach. They stared blankly past me. Oh they're not morning people - I thought - People who don't like mornings hate me when I greet them so I dug into the work and so did they.

Stan - a vet from World War II was staring out across the ocean. Whatcha thinking about Stan? I ask. Those kids he says - nodding his wise face toward the group of eight - They lost their best friend on Monday - they didn't know what to do so they came here. The group of eight finished planting the 852 crosses with us then they took a flag and a flower and wrote his name on a piece of paper. They placed it on a cross in the front row and sat crying and telling stories of 1st Lieutenant Andre Tyson. I was wrong. I guess they were mourning people.

Later that Sunday a Marine came and collapsed in grief. He had been the sole survivor of a mortar attack in Iraq and had lost 16 of his comrades.

He was so bereft that he couldn't write the names of the men. So the volunteers helped him and then he gingerly kissed all 16 crosses and sat against the Santa Monica pier completely frozen until he could move again and take a step forward.

Yesterday for the 4th of July we read the names of the 865 fallen. 100 names every hour. I hated reading the names of the dead. When I read them on Memorial Day I couldn't stop crying. Every time I read another 18 or 19 year old I wept and this time as I read Private First Class Sean Horn 19, or

Lance Corporal Kyle Codner 19, I felt empty. I hated that I wasn't crying for them. I think I thought that I wouldn't have to read any more names.

I kept thinking that the body count would stop. One thing I know is that the feeling of putting up the crosses in the morning and taking them down at night is completely different. In the morning the sand is sectioned off just like a land survey. We make a perfect triangle and then a perfect square. Marcus Eriksen, a Marine veteran from the Gulf War has created a diagram that allows us to create perfectly symmetrical rows. Luckily he has a PHD in Science Education and this comes easy for him because I got a D in geometry. Volunteers help us place the crosses and adjust each one so it is straight -- as straight as anything can be when the foundation consists of sand.

As I plant the crosses it feels like I am saying hello to reality. Thank you Private First Class Daniel Unger (19) , Thank you Specialist Christopher Duffy (26), Thank you Private First Class Melissa Hobart (22). The wood of the cross is strong, the sand is newly raked and the sun is dawning across the Pacific Ocean.

The day goes on. People find their friends and circle their names in a red marker. Santa Monica Mayor Richard Bloom and Mayor Pro Tem Kevin McKeown come by to help us read the names of the dead. Jose, a developmentally disabled man in a red white and blue baseball hat asks me what to do. You can take a card and write a name and a word of condolence or acknowledgement to fallen soldier. Okay he says and we write out a name - and then he asks me - how do you spell god? "G" - I say -trying to keep it together - "O" - "D" and then how do you spell bless?

Two nineteen year-old girls in bikini tops and tattoos stop by. They are on weekend liberty and enlisted in the Marines last September. They are ready to fight and leave for Iraq in a week. They have no fear, are on a mission and their intention is clear.

A man is upset by the memorial. Do you know how many people Sadaam killed?

Another woman comes - Can you help me find my son? Yes - I say and find his name on the board. I'm so sorry I say. Thank you she says and touches my arm. She and her family pick a cross closest to the ocean and sit there until we begin to take the crosses down at 6:00pm.

I don't like taking down the crosses. I can feel the tears in the sand and I can feel the confusion in the beach air mixed with people flying kites and having picnics. I read the cards as I pull them off the crosses and I see the little memorials that people create - the stack of seashells - a group of flat river rocks - a Marine insignia - a hat - a funeral card - a cross made of palm tree. Ed Ellis the coordinator of Veterans for Peace LA and veteran of the Vietnam War has started laminating some of the memorabilia and RV another Vietnam vet places them in the front row every Sunday.

As we tear down the memorial the crosses are stacked and put in the back of Mark Scully's truck and Ed Ellis' van. Somehow this memorial which has grown from the 540 crosses in February to 865 crosses on 4th of July weekend squeezes into these two vehicles both on their last leg.

I turn back and the beach is clean again. The memorial is gone almost like it never happened. The picnics and the kites rush in to fill the empty space. Families and friends of all different colors and beliefs rush onto the sand filled with tears.

I get home and unload the car. I sit down at my desk to eat dinner and look at the guest book which people have signed throughout the day. At the memorial the book sits right next to our display of the wounded from Iraq - a number which now exceeds 5000. The fireworks are beginning outside. The distant explosions from around the city echo through my walls. I wonder if this it what it sounds like in Iraq and I read the guest book:

"Let all the troops come home. Humanity has more important challenges to meet."

"Yes it is worth it to keep the world free from the type of people who would destroy all that is worth living for."

"I just completed my military obligation one month ago. I have family and friends who are still fighting and now they must fight for me too. I am proud to say that I served my country as a US Sailor. I am proud of my shipmates: those that are still with us and those that are not. Thank you shipmates."

"Life is too precious.war is something that will take something precious away. Stop this war and leave people with something precious in life."

"We are all here for a purpose. These men and women died so you could live and enjoy life. What is your purpose?"

"To fallen brothers - rest in peace knowing that we are free - see you soon - Semper Fi."

"I am in tears. Most of these people are still kids. We must stop it."

"We love America and if you live here you should too. Respect our country or get out of it."

"Ya basta a la Guerra."

"On the 4th of July we, as Americans, celebrate our freedom - and at what a horrible cost. Thank you dear boys and girls."

"The thrill is gone." "Thank you to the soldiers for the risk you take so that we can come to the beach and have fun."

"I came from Syria to the USA because I am looking for a perfect world and for peace. After this war in Iraq I am just thinking that I hope I am not in the wrong place."

"Please know that despite all of the politics we respect that you have given up your lives which are undeniably precious."

I try to eat my dinner and read. It's impossible. I am blown away. That folks can express such varying points of view standing side-by-side with their tank tops and beach umbrellas and co-exist. Afterall, the intention of the memorial is to honor the fallen and the wounded, to encourage a dialogue among people with different points of view, to address the needs of the US Military returning from war and to provide a place to grieve.

I haven't been to Iraq but I will go in the next year with the Veterans for Peace - Iraq Water Project to help rebuild water treatment plants. Some areas in Iraq have been without running water since the end of the first Gulf War. I have to see what is happening for myself. What I've learned is that this conflict is not real to me when I see it on the TV or in the newspapers. On Sunday's at Arlington West however, I cannot deny the reality of the Iraq War. A few weeks ago a man in his mid 70's approached the tent with tears in his eyes. Hello I said and shook his military handshake hand. His lip quivered - I haven't been on sand in 50 years - I was a Marine in World War II and after five beach assaults in the South Pacific I swore I would never set foot on sand again but -- I had to see this he said.

This man had it. That inconvenient courage. Thank you I said.

written by April

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