locations: the Peace House, the camp, and the satellite parking lot at a nearby stadium. He has to go back home soon, so he also is looking at the time and for someone to replace him. Here is Michelle from Houston, but the velocity of arrivals is beginning to blur my notes, so I return Biscuit to her crate and hop a shuttle.
Just before the carful of pilgrims is ready to roll, Hadi knocks on the window of the car. "We have a Gold Star Mom, and she needs to get out to the camp."
Standing with Hadi is the mom's escort from Military Families Speak Out." So I hop out to catch the next shuttle as Hadi pauses to speak to a reporter from Argentina. According to a press release from MFSO, two Gold Star Mothers are scheduled for arrival this morning. Barbara Porchi of Camden, Arkansas lost her son Jonathan Cheatham in July 2003. Sue Niederer of Penington, New Jersey lost her son Seth Dvorin in February 2004. Niederer is a co-founder of Gold Star Families for Peace.
Out at the campsite, Celeste Zappala takes her turn speaking at a press conference: "We lost our son Sgt.
Sherwood Baker. He was thirty years old. He was killed on April 6, 2004 while he was looking for the weapons of mass destruction long after everybody knew they weren't there. He was the 720th American to die.
He was the first Pennsylvania National Guardsman to die. Seven more died this week."
"When we buried Sherwood, I knelt down beside his coffin and I vowed to him I will speak the truth for him. This war is a disaster. It is a betrayal of our military. And it's a betrayal of the democracy they seek to protect." With wind beating into the truthout microphone and tears racing into her eyes, Zappala turns to step away from the camera: "Bring our troops
home now."
As Cindy and her media entourage continue their stroll, I hear a reporter identifying himself with the Baton Rouge Free Press, the anti-war newspaper produced by the Louisiana delegation.
I also hear Jim Goodnow slowly spelling Terlingua.
*****
The sun is high now, so I pop an umbrella and stroll along the un-named lane where the crosses are now fairly well begun: Ernesto Blanco, a former student from Texas A&M University, killed by an "explosive device" on Jan. 28, 2003. Buried at Fort Sam Houston, Texas, at a funeral attended by the Governor. "My brother touched so many people," said his sister.
"Everyone that knew him felt like they were Ernie's favorite, and that is a great gift." He loved his life here in Texas: country music, Shiner Bock, and the Hill Country. I hear the clink, clink, clink that senior boots make as Aggie Cadets stride across campus. His sister Carmen hears him playing guitar and singing.
Viktar V. Yolkin of Spring Branch, Texas, one of three Texas soldiers killed when their Bradley fighting vehicle "overturned". He had come to America in 1998 and according to the Houston Chronicle, "he insisted on joining the Army two years ago so he could wear the uniform of the nation he had come to love." His ex-wife, who tried to talk him out of the military, said his body would probably be buried back in Belarus.
Robert Wise, a 21-year-old Florida National Guardsman, killed
in Nov. 2003 by an improvised explosive device or IED.
At high school in Tallahassee he played soccer, ran cross country, and was commander of the ROTC. He had been in Iraq seven months and was looking forward to seeing his newborn godson.
When two helicopters collided, killing 17 soldiers, Robert's father David told the AP
that his son was greeting them in heaven, "Making it better on them ... you know, with that goofy grin that he had."
Isela Rubacalva from Ciudad Juarez, Mexico was killed by mortar
May 8, 2005 near a chow hall. Her father Ramon is quoted
by John Ross saying, "she died on Friday thinking about coming home to eat carnitas and beans, drink a beer and go to a dance. This war is useless, as useless as Vietnam."
Jonathan B. Shields of Atlanta was killed when "a tank accidentally struck him." As he prepared to join a mission to Falluja, reports
the Atlanta Journal-Constitution, he emailed his wife in Texas: "This is the last time we're going to talk.
I'm not coming home from this." Before all that, he had planned to enroll in culinary school, open a restaurant, and add more children to his family.
Among the crosses, one finds an occasional crescent or star of David.
Behind me, a late model Chevy 2500 eases quietly up the nameless lane from Prairie Chapel Road. Down comes the window and a middle aged fellow looks out, his spouse smiling from the passenger seat. "Good job, good job!" he says indicating the row of crosses.
"We're driving back from California to SouthEast Texas, but we just wanted to stop by and tell you how much we appreciate you." Several of us thank the guy for stopping by, up goes the window, and the family trip resumes. I double back down nameless lane and turn
SouthEast on Morgan Road to check the leg of road where folks are parking.
*****
It looks like headquarters here, the land of the goddess warriors. Near an open van several CodePink organizers pace with their cell phones. Camp director Anne Wright is here, too. Cindy Sheehan is sitting on an ice chest speaking with a reporter.
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