(Woman perched atop a shaggy young man in the May Day protest at the Capital in Washington, DC. Image courtesy “wagingnonviolence.org”).

We were going to go with a tale about the unfolding story of attempts to escalate tension in nuclear relations- there is some disturbing Escalation in progress. You will see us cover it presently, since it is a classic demonstration of profound generational change on this day in May.

Mules is one of the Older Salts of the highest quality. He harnesses his old messaging skills to produce dramatic PowerPoint presentations about places, times and people. He produced one that echoes this morning. It is the 70th Anniversary of the French defeat at their strongpoint at Dien Bien Phu. The terms of reference are unusual to us now, so he clarified. “The French relied on air support to keep the garrison complex supplied, since the roads and rails were too dangerous for transit.”

Attempting to do the same thing with our own military twenty years later makes it a poignant topic. It has echoes in the current campus protests about the situation in Gaza this morning as the Israelis open the offensive against Hamas at Rafah. Splash has been reading up on the events, and jumped in.

He waved a printed copy of a news story that claimed some of the Hamas fighters in Gaza refused to evacuate targets the Israelis were about to destroy. They also refused to move their children. We have no information on what their wives thought.

DeMille frowned from the head of the picnic table “Looks to me like the IDF will take the east side of the Rafah Zone first, then squeeze HAMAS into the seaside corner of the enclave. Then they will eliminate them in response to the 1,300 Israelis killed and taken hostage back in October. If they’re smart, they’ll move fast even at the expense of higher casualties.”

That provoked more frowns of disbelief. We would never have warned anyone in the targets we hit, since we could get hurt doing it. Rocket put his mug of coffee down with a ceramic thump that made one of the robins lurch out of the bushes. “And yet to be seen is the reaction of Iran’s other proxies in this mess. What will they do? Iran already heaved more than 3,000 rockets. How about Hizballah in the north and the Houthis in the south?”

That comment sparked another vigorous discussion about the willingness of True Believers to commit familial suicide. As a group, we had been willing to take risks only to protect ours, so it was a dramatic demonstration of alternate but committed reality.

That followed Mule’s slide presentation with images of gallant North Vietnamese hauling anti-aircraft guns over the hilly terrain with their muscles and determination.

That prompted more recollections since some of the Older Salts had their moments in (or around) Vietnam at the time. The younger ones didn’t, but did recall the times. Ollie laughed at the change. “I only intentionally went to a demonstration once back then. It was the big May Day demonstration in Washington,1971.”

We considered the date, now more than a half-century ago. Ollie lit up one of the irritating Lucky Strikes he keeps in a rolled up sleeve of his t-shirt. “It’s an interesting contrast to the ones in progress today. The old protest I saw began on Monday morning, May 3rd and lasted two days. The DC cops arrested over 12,000 people. In the largest mass arrest in U.S. history.So far, anyway. Participants were kids like we were. They drew their own straggly signs and got to DC however they could, thumbing or driving old cars. Without brand new tents.”

Rocket laughed. “I heard one lady got paid $300 a day last week to participate. That is muchbetter than minimum wage. And one of the important demands was for delivery of quality free food to the encampments.”

Ollie scowled before continuing pensively. “I was not a protestor, though of course my interest was influenced by the proximity of the Draft. I just wanted to observe what it was like. I told my folks I was going to take a trip. Then I threw some stuff in a backpack and hitch-hiked from Grand Rapids, Michigan down to the Capital. No trouble on that leg.”

“On arrival, I saw a crowd of dizzying size and energy, mostly piled up around the Federal Center downtown and the Pentagon on the west side of the Potomac. It was interesting in the scope of it, and mostly peaceful. But then things got violent and the mass arrests started. They were filling RFK Stadium with students and I decided that was enough of the experience and decided to go home before I wound up in a seat on someone’s 30-yard line.”

There were some ironic knowing glances around the Writer’s Section as he continued. “Once I decided to get out, I lifted my thumb and got a ride from a VW van with a group of Vietnam Vets Against the War. They were headed for Chicago or someplace and it was late afternoon when we hooked up. They did not want to drive all night, but we were all short on cash and a motel room for the crowd was too expensive. Near South Somerset, they decided to pull over and sleep in a rest stop by the highway.”

“I did not fully trust them and the pervasive scent of marijuana had me a little unsettled. I threw my sleeping bag over a shoulder and hiked up the hill from the rest area to a straggly tree line where I tried to make a nest under the branches in the chill. They were gone when I stirred after a hungry, restless night. I got another less committed ride west and made it home OK. I never again went willingly near a large crowd of angry people.”

Nick Danger is a little more quiet than he was in his days in the Fleet. Ollie’s account had him stirred up. “And the ones these days look like smacked asses. What amazes me is how frighteningly insecure they all are. They need the crowds, the attention, the paparazzi, the cameras and their their stories of sacrifice in the press…”

There was a proposal to drink to the doughty Vietnamese who hauled artillery with their hands and backs. We decided not to. Happy Hour is soon enough, and we decided to just drink to the memories of the generations now long gone.

Copyright 2024 Vic Socotra
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www.vicsocotra.com