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On Brian Willson: "The Tears Came Hard"

By Dave Ross

To The Editor:

Whatever possessed him to do it? Why didn't Brian Willson simply get off the tracks? Was he mad? Demented? Self-destructive? Or is the answer perhaps more complex? I'd like to share some thoughts.

Wednesday morning started out simply enough: orange juice, exercise and the morning news. Then without warning, without premonition, the announcement of Brian Willson's wounding. I was stunned. The "ordinariness" of this day had ended. A friend was hurt and I didn't know how to act. I was numb, just numb and shaken.

The news said Brian Willson had lost both legs and suffered a serious concussion. I thought of my time as a medic with the 1st Infantry Division in Vietnam—I realized the seriousness of his injuries all too clearly.

Brian had also been in Vietnam. He served as a "Damage Assessment Officer" in the U.S. Air Force. His job was to technically survey and officially report the "damage" inflicted by bombing missions. He told me of seeing the dead and the dying and the wounded—he never could get used to the children.

And the the new cancers: Nicaragua, El Salvador, Angola, etc, etc, etc. Our government is at it again. Secret armies, diversion of guns and money, drug dealing, plausible deniability, the dead, they dying, the wounded—including the children. We are doing it again.

Brian Willson went to Nicaragua. Three times he led groups of Vietnam veterans through the war zones. They all agreed, Nicaragua is Vietnam spelled in Spanish.

The "action" at the Concord Naval Weapons Station was to initiate a new fast combined with "direct action" against munitions shipments. The train that crippled Brian Willson was hauling weapons for shipment to the Contras. At the press conferences prior to the demonstration, Brian Willson had clearly stated with regard to the Nicaraguans, "...are their lives worth less than ours...?" Are our lives worth more than theirs? If we allowed this "death train" to pass our lives it will only take others farther down the line (including the children). They can stop the train, tehy can pull us off the tracks, or they can run us over. We will not move. He didn't. The death train crushed him just as its cargo is destined to crush the peasants of Nicaragua.

I remember Vietnam. And there were heroes. men who risked everything, and often lost, to save a buddy, to gain a few yards, to cover a retreat. In a fundamental sense this is what Brian Willson is doing, only his battlefield is not sanctioned. The man is, after all, waging total, unconditional peace. And, just as in war, the price can be as high as that paid on any battlefield.

Soldiers rarely cry on the battlefield; there's seldom time. Following the news, I put on my suit and tie and left for work. After several business calls, I just gave up...today would not be "business as usual." I went to the Peace and Justice Center in Burlington to join with others in organizing an appropriate community response.

Although I came close a few times, I didn't shed a tear all day. Good soldier. But I couldn't get my mind off Brian and throughout the day, vignettes of all the suffering I had seen in Vietnam kept flashing in my mind. All the dead and the dying and the wounded...nightmares come to consciousness.

There was another nightmare Brian and I discussed about how little wars often turn into big ones and of how, should that last great nightmare ever come for us, there won't be any dreamers. Brian Willson reminds us that we need to work harder for peace. And sometimes we are angry at him for it.

When I finally went to bed, I was exhausted. As I lay back on my bed and pulled my legs up under the covers it suddenly struck me like a new thought: Brian's going to bed without his legs tonight. The tears came hard.

—Dave Ross
VVAW Vermont