The Marine bending low to read the names on the crosses straightened to attention as I approached, “Sir, thank you for doing this, sir. Sometimes it seems like nobody notices. We go to war and everybody else goes shopping.”
I don’t remember in which year of the war in Iraq that conversation took place. The stories from Arlington West all run together after a while. Those who worked on the project had their hearts broken over and over, watching and listening as young (and some not so young) Marines took advantage of a rare opportunity to give voice to their feelings. There were others, too, not just Marines, representatives of all the uniformed services, and family members. Many family members.
Shortly after the US invaded Iraq, Jim Brown, a member of San Diego Veterans for piece, put together several hundred small wooden crosses, and with a few friends, took them to Oceanside, where they placed them in neat rows along the beach. Each cross bore the name of an American killed in the fighting. The group, outraged at the lies, deception and manipulation surrounding the US entry into the war, had also prepared a number of signs challenging the Bush administration’s actions.
Once the crosses were in place, however, an event critical to the future of Arlington West occurred. The group, mostly veterans, that had placed the crosses paused and looked at what they had created. It was a memorial, not a protest. All the signs went back into the truck. We had created a place too sacred for more acrimony. Fresh grief blended with old griefs. We relearned that new wars scratch open old wounds.