By George BeresFor the Beacon
College students today have not marshalled their efforts to speak out against the war in Iraq as their fathers' generation did in the '60s and '70s about Vietnam. There are a few exceptions, one of them a Springfield resident, Jason Alves.
He and a few other students of courage used the newly renovated theatre of the Eugene American Legion Hall to give audiences a most personal view of what today's militarism really demands of our youth. Jason and his fellow students at the University of Oregon are veterans of war who have survived – physically – and returned to college to rebuild their lives.
"Our play, `Telling,' gave us an amazing opportunity to share with an audience the support many of us need after having returned from combat in the Middle East," said Alves. "These are things we normally don't talk about, because none of us wants to revive those memories."
Jason and his fellow actors are rare - college students who have undergone military trial by fire. They were young, and chose to volunteer. Their peers, in college and out, aren't required to undergo "training to kill" because there has been no draft during the Gulf War and the fighting in Iraq and Afghanistan. It was different during Vietnam, when all males were vulnerable to being drafted and winding up in combat. Their own skins were on the line back then, and that energized them to march in the streets to oppose that war.
"I had it easier than some," said Alves, "because I was in the navy, so served on a ship instead of in the sand. Still, it was an emotional rollercoaster from the beginning."
The "rollercoaster" had a startling start in basic training, especially in marines boot camp. It started with a level of loudness and profanity from the cadre who trained them. If they were going to be convinced to kill, every other word – as they portrayed in vignettes on the stage—was the f bomb, delivered at painful decibels from a cadre mouth just inches from a trainee's ear.
The language was a necessary link to the non-human level of training. But it wasn't suitable for children. One couple with two children chose to leave soon after the cadre language patterns began.
I remember that brainwashing from basic training at Ft. Leonard Wood, Mo., before I was shipped to Korea. But it was nowhere near as intense as that demonstrated for us by the veterans now enrolled at the UO.
One of the student actors angrily shouted, "People don't support the troops with any understanding of what the troops go through! If you have not been in combat, you have no idea what we were going through!
The production was conceived by UO faculty members after they sat in on veterans panels that described realities of war as they experienced them. They worked with the student veterans to create this novel stage experience where each individual, including two women, told of personal trials in the military.
Boot training was prelude to the trauma of blood and death in combat in Iraq and Afghanistan. "It seemed to have nothing to do with what we were doing there or why we were there," said one student-veteran. "But the blood and death inflicted on us become very personal, happening to people you know. But one doesn't hesitate. One just must move on.”
Said another: "When you are in that alien world of war, you live for those itty-bitty moments, rare times when you can do anything except the horror you are paid to be part of."
What keeps the soldier going is the feeling of responsibility to his or her buddies in battle. A painful legacy of being safely back home is the guilt felt by veterans who still sense a responsibility for their buddies who are fighting - not being there to help protect their friends.
The performance of each actor was real because it came from personal experience. It was not easy to express. As one said: "These are things we normally don't talk about, because every time we tell our stories, we are there again."
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