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Carousing with GIs in Germany

By Amy Meyers

I arrived early Monday at Frankfurt International Airport and within 40 minutes I had made my destination, Pioneer US military base, located in water boarding.

Invited by a friend in the Army, I decided this was the perfect opportunity to visit, see Germany and do outreach with VVAW papers, IVAW pamphlets and GI Rights cards. My friend, who's more like a younger brother, had done a year in Kuwait with occasional trips to Baghdad. Although he wasn't in direct combat he dealt with the more quiet horrors of war…the personal aspects that attack a soldier's heart and soul: Loved-ones quarrels, Dear John letters, loneliness and bigotry within the military.

There are multiple small-sized posts in Hanau, the bowling alley, PX, commissary, barracks and MP station are on different posts within a few miles of each other. Security at the gates are contracted Germans, their main job is to check military IDs and passports for all guests entering and exiting the base.

Me, my friend, my brother, a Sergeant First Class and 2 other 20 year old GIs (one male, one female) went to a "GI-friendly" Irish pub near base. One asked to see the buttons on my coat, VVAW and IVAW, he smiled and nodded as if he approved. I asked what brought them to the service; they said they joined to get out of their home towns, out of their parent's houses and to get money for college. The bartender (a young friendly local) and the SFC were telling me about the kind of soldiers who make places not GI friendly. Considering the difference in drinking age, practice and behaviors in America and Germany, I was told younger Americans tend to lose control and act up, so rather than bars dealing with possible problems, American military just aren't welcomed in some off base establishments.

We started talking to other GIs and decided to go to another tavern. On my way out I left IVAW, VVAW and GI Rights info in the lavatories and on tabletops. At the other bar, over coffee, I talked to the owner and his friend; very nice, middle aged Turkish men. They saw my buttons and said curiously, "with the GIs" and I said, "yes." This led to conversation about the war's bogus justification, really being about economics and power, and that those who are fighting are pawns in a political game. They gave me more coffee and insisted it was on the house.

It was easy to talk candidly with the GIs around. One opened up about his time "downrange" in Iraq, he was angry and upset about his experience. One of the GIs was mad at the kids and said insurgents use kids as decoys, to set themselves off, trigger bombs off or distract the troops. He blamed the insurgents and the kids, using this rationale to say "fuck em, kill em all." Rather than argue with him, I responded with sarcasm, to invoke thought…and it worked. I said, "some kids throw rocks, I would if I were them, some are hungry looking for MRE's and some might be distractions but you can't blame them or kill them all, because one truth in all of this is that the children are innocent. No matter how they are being used, they did not choose this war or how it's being waged; they're just being destroyed by it." They all agreed to that. These guys seemed to be genuine and friendly. Beyond the select horrid remarks of justified carnage, they seemed more mad, scared and hurt over everything and what they've suffered (possibly guilt, distance from family, filth) because of this war, than honest disdain for the Iraqis. They were frustrated and angry about the mercenaries giving GIs a bad name and contractors making four times their salary. They talked about the measly reimbursements Iraqis receive from the US when a child or goat is killed, how they have to go into villages with little or no security, and that if people can prove Americans caused the kill, they are to be compensated for their losses. I gave VVAW and IVAW information to a few of the guys and told them that regardless of politics, these are veterans groups and may be able to help. On my way out, the owner stopped me to introduce a friend, a medic that just got back from downrange and was looking forward to getting out of the military altogether. We were only able to talk for a few minutes, but I gave him VVAW and IVAW information and wished him well. He was very appreciative.

I left feeling hurt and empty, for anyone to think or say some of the things I heard, but then contradict themselves by agreeing with me; I thought – how horrible this war has left them, so vulnerable, angry and confused. The most sincere of them all, but with some of the most heinous remarks, a 23 year old that doesn't know what he's going to do when he gets out in two months, but said "fuck the army" its not a career for him. His wife (who just got out of a year tour in Iraq) is sick, can't have babies and they don't know why, and he's got blood stained hands from this war. I'm thinking…what is happening to our troops over there and how do they survive living if they make it out alive? Twenty years old and his life seems doomed.

My last day on base, was spent at the PX, commissary, and bowling alley dropping information. About 10:00pm I began dropping VVAW papers, IVAW pamphlets and GI Rights cards in the barracks (stairwells, laundry rooms, lavatories). I had gotten through a few buildings before being noticed. I heard someone coming so I finished quickly and left. Half way through the parking lot, 2 men, still in their BDUs, yelled out, "hey, what are you doing." Rather than show concern I walked over and said "excuse me" (as if they should have known me). They pointed at all of the information stacked near the door. I told them I was "dropping information off." They asked who I was and if I was new. I replied "Ame; not new, been here a week, nice to meet you." They asked what I was doing, I said, "making sure everyone gets this information, I have a lot of buildings to get through, so excuse me while I'm on my way." I turned and walked away, they stood there, jaw to the ground. I think they were shocked and confused as to who I was, what I was doing, the information I was delivering and how I got on base. But rather than stick around, I finished the rest of the barracks in a light jog, cautiously suspicious of approaching vehicles. The last thing I needed was to be picked up by MPs on my final night in Germany.

My last copy of The Veteran was left at Frankfurt International Airport, United terminal – in hopes that a GI would be the lucky one to discover it while waiting on a flight back to the States.