Local soldiers share their Iraq experiences at Winter Soldier Project Fundraiser

The Winter Soldier Project Fundraiser, hosted Sunday by First Congregational Church of Long Beach, was surprisingly well-attended considering that the somber event took place right smack in the middle of an absolutely beautiful Spring day, approximately 10 hours after many of us forgot to move our clocks ahead one hour.

I was one of approximately 100 attendees, most of them activists, most close to retirement age, if not past it altogether. (The Gray Panthers–in this case, a group of elderly women who shop at REI, wear fanny packs, and don’t take a lot of crap–were well represented.) For an hour we sat in the pews and listened to five young soldiers share their experiences. All five were eloquent, forceful speakers, but all five looked as if they had been through something.

One soldier took several lengthy pauses in the middle of his comments, with a few deep breaths to steady himself. Another soldier crossed his arms over his chest and stared up at the ceiling for much of the hour. Another ceaselessly rubbed the palm of one shaking hand with the thumb of the other. Another seemed almost inert when he wasn’t speaking, staring at a spot on the floor.

Afterwards we made our way to Pilgrim Hall for a silent auction, lunch, and an opportunity to speak personally with the the soldiers. (At the very end of the panel, one of the organizers put out a plea that we refrain from overly personal questions such as “So how many Iraqis did you kill? Tell me about it!”)

This is what I learned:

* “Marines do not give warning shots.” Or so new recruits are repeatedly instructed by their superiors.

* If your squad is patrolling a road at night and an unknown vehicle is heading your way, you’d better lay your hands on a flashlight, quick. And if no one can find a flashlight with which to wave the car off, you may be asked, as a precaution, to “light that car up.” After everyone in the squad opens fire–pumping the car so full of lead that, as the soldier put it, the car is thirty pounds heavier–chances are pretty good that the car will stop, the doors will open, and the first thing that you’ll hear is the sound of women screaming.

* If you make it home, one night you may find yourself–despite your best efforts to put your experiences behind you–awake at 3am, “in great distress.” A call to the 24-hour VA hotline begins a process that amounts to a reckless form of triage: after asking a few questions, the person on the other end of the phone will make a determination as to the likelihood of your committing suicide. If you are deemed low risk, then it may be another three (terrifying and dangerous) months before you are contacted again.

There’s a lot more for all of us to learn. Go here for more stories from Iraq, and here for information on the Winter Soldier Project.

Tags: First Congregational Church, Iraq Veterans Against the War, iraq war, Long Beach, winter soldier