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Allegedly So ...

By A Veteran

There are veterans of war and its atrocities that don't tell their stories. There are those of us that can't. Maybe it's less painful to tell anti-war stories. Maybe the antics of the past can serve as inspiration or at the very least a curiosity for the present and future peace movements. I won't mention any names, but it is alleged that Vietnam Veterans Against the War has been involved in anti-war activities since it's inception way back when. This is a place to share our often humorous, sometimes less than legal and perhaps almost heroic attempts to derail the war machine.

Allegedly So...It is alleged that in those heady days the Milwaukee chapter of VVAW, with a nod to the beeps and boops of censorship, had a volunteer unit they referred to simply as bee-boop. It was just a handful of frustrated vets tired of signing petitions, protesting, marching and voting with very little result. They had all been patriotic young men with high ideals willing to go to war for their country to protect its claims of freedom and to do right for the world. They lived in the shadow of an America that came to the rescue in World War II.

The new mission was to save the world from Godless Communism. But then they found out, it was all more about money, war profiteers and lies than any political ideology. They had been lied to, used and cast aside. The nation was torn between blind patriotism and an end to the Vietnam War. The Veterans Administration denied there were problems from Agent Orange and Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. The new class of veterans had served and wasn't even being cared for properly upon their return, but that's another story.

The team members were all ready and willing to cross the line and go to jail if necessary, but they were also practical and committed to nonviolence. Before each excursion, they met with a volunteer lawyer to discuss the legal consequences of their action and often shaped it accordingly. They realized with each arrest they would be draining money from the very movement they hoped to support. They were all sworn to secrecy in that grand old tradition of "loose lips sink ships."

It was probably late June. We were still at war in a far off land when the call came over our tapped telephones. A coded message said the Bee-Boop team would be activated for a special Independence Day statement.

It was a simple, yet eloquent thought. We would turn the American flag upside down – an internationally recognized signal of distress – at one of Milwaukee's grandest Fourth of July celebrations. It would be tricky. There was still plenty of animosity between pro and anti-war forces. Aging VFW vets would be performing a 21-gun salute and the Milwaukee Police Department would be passing out ice cream to the kiddies. We needed precise military style, yet non-violent, tactics.

Lake Park is a beautiful site. It sits on the top of a steep wooded bluff overlooking Lake Michigan between a quiet city street in an exclusive neighborhood and the very busy Lake Drive below. A scenic – country like - winding road connects the two. So here was the plan:

There would be a get-away van with driver parked on Lake Drive. A small number of allies would be stationed in the audience armed with literature about the war. Another couple of supporters on ten speed bicycles would create a diversion with fire works behind the main park lodge. And finally, teams of combat infantry vets in full camouflage would lay motionless in the woods, rush the flag, pop smoke grenades and in the confusion bring her down and put her back topsy-turvy amidst all the confusion. Then, a hasty retreat down the steep slope – hopefully a little too steep for the VFW vets and the Milwaukee Police to keep up or actually follow – and finally scrambling into the idling van and a safe escape to Hooligan's Bar to regroup and boast about the action.

The best laid plans...

Okay, so there was a walk through the day before to make sure the logistics would work. The camo clad vets arrived well before dawn and lay so still that even park workers picking up litter did not discover them. It is alleged that one stuck his pointy tipped paper picker upper within a foot of me. My breathing was so shallow as too be almost nonexistent – and he gave me no notice.

The fire works exploded. We rushed the flag screaming for affect and absolute confusion. The smoke grenades were popped and the flag came down. Alas, it took some time to reverse it and try to get it back up. The VFW recovered and was after us with their old M-1's at the ready – not locked and loaded – but ready to swat us like flies. We had seen this as a possibility and with our commitment to nonviolence sounded a hasty retreat. We ran for the slope. Everyone made it. No casualties. But at Hooligans, the adrenalin was still raging and we were disappointed that we didn't get the flag back up. This called for a plan B.

Growing up in Milwaukee, I had often admired the patriotic and always well-manicured floral display that nestled below a proudly waving American Flag at the top of North Avenue in Reservoir Park. It was at the highest point in Milwaukee just a few miles straight up from the Lake. Traffic flowed up the very busy artery and steep incline for a great view looking directly into the park and its flag. Vehicles even had to slow for the sharp curve to the left and then right around it.

A new plan relying more on stealth than shock and awe was developed. The Bee-boop unit took to the hill and quietly scouted the fence that separated them from their prize. Signals were established and lookouts posted around the park. The strike force went over the chain link, barbed wire barrier and low crawled to the flag. It was run down with great efficiency and returned to its post upside down. The team made it back over the barrier without incident and another successful get-away followed. Peace activists and the anti-war community were rewarded with a full color photo of Old Glory in distress on page one of the city's major daily newspaper.