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Sunday, October 22, 2017
The March on the Pentagon: An Oral History
Photo
A protester faces soldiers near the Pentagon on October 21, 1967.
Credit
Marc Riboud/Magnum Photos
The Vietnam War is the only American conflict remembered as much for
the opposition it sparked at home as for its battlefield victories and
losses. Just two weeks after Marines landed at Da Nang in March 1965,
crossing a new threshold of American military commitment in Vietnam, the
University of Michigan held a “teach-in” for 3,500 students and faculty
disturbed by the intervention. The next decade would experience an
intensifying drumbeat of protests that were by turns intimate and
gargantuan, educative and rowdy, radical and mainstream, and local and
global in scale.
The October 1967 March on the Pentagon —
immortalized in “The Armies of the Night,” Norman Mailer’s “non-fiction
novel” — was at that point the largest antiwar rally ever staged.
Coordinated by a coalition of antiwar groups known as the National
Mobilization Committee to End the War in Vietnam (“the Mobe”), it
brought between 70,000 and 100,000 protesters to Washington to pressure
President Johnson to end the war. One key organizer, Jerry Rubin, who
with Abbie Hoffman would soon launch the mischievous Yippie party,
helped give the event its countercultural cast. He announced beforehand a
stunt by the poet Allen Ginsberg and others to “levitate” the Pentagon —
provoking curiosity, mockery and (as intended) headlines.
Protesters during the march. George Tames/The New York Times Most
Americans didn’t endorse the Mobe’s demand for unconditional
withdrawal. Though majorities faulted President Johnson’s handling of
the war, as many favored a decisive escalation as an immediate pull-out.
In deference to the mainstream groups participating, Mobe leaders
warned militant leftists against misbehavior and jettisoned radical
speakers like H. Rap Brown of the (now inaptly named) Student
Non-Violent Coordinating Committee, who had threatened to bring a bomb.
The weekend began on Friday, Oct. 20, with a rally at the Justice
Department where hundreds of draft cards were “returned,” followed by a
fundraiser featuring Robert Lowell, Mailer and Dwight Macdonald. The
next morning, under sunny and mild skies, tens of thousands of
protesters, mostly white, middle-class and young, gathered at the
Lincoln Memorial to hear Phil Ochs and Peter, Paul and Mary, along with
the inevitable program of speeches. Some 50,000 rally-goers then
streamed over the Arlington Memorial Bridge toward the Pentagon, home of
the Defense Department. There, some held to non-violent tactics, while
others toppled the makeshift fences erected around the Pentagon,
courting arrest. Still others approached the soldiers ringing the
building, placing carnations in their rifle barrels. By the next
morning, hundreds had been arrested.
What did it all achieve?
News coverage suggested that antiwar activists had far to go in winning
over the public. Commentary highlighted isolated acts of outlandishness,
while conservatives focused on the presence of Communist groups. Though
split about the wisdom of the war, Americans agreed overwhelmingly
that, as one poll phrased it, peace marches amounted to “acts of
disloyalty against the boys in Vietnam.” Still, in the near term, the
march fueled the movement’s energy and surging sense of power and hope.
But it also framed antiwar opposition for many as a countercultural
project and in so doing served to widen the chasm between hawks and
doves.
Recently, The Times asked more than 20 eyewitnesses —
protesters, organizers, soldiers and reporters — to help tell the story
of the march.
— David Greenberg
Friday, Oct. 20
The Night Before
Tens of thousands of protesters began arriving in Washington on
Friday morning, some from as far away as California. Across the river at
the Pentagon, the Army began activating its own forces in preparation
for Saturday’s march.
Bill Zimmerman Then: activist and Brooklyn College professor. Now: political consultant and author.
Five
chartered buses brought us to Washington. Aboard were some experienced
activists, but most of the students were attending their first protest.
Sharon Smith Then: College student. Now: Retired neuropsychologist.
I
drove to Washington with Middlebury College classmates. We stayed with a
student’s family — fervent antiwar Democrats. I was amazed and
impressed. Some “old” people hated the war, too!
Noam Chomsky M.I.T. linguistics professor.
The
Pentagon demonstration was preceded [on Friday] by a smaller one at the
Justice Department, where participants pledged to support resistance to
the war, and a collection of returned draft cards was turned in to the
department. I had brought them from Boston, where they had been returned
in a moving ceremony at the Arlington Street Church.
Michael Ferber Then: Graduate student. Now: Professor of English and humanities at the University of New Hampshire
A
delegation of resisters and prominent older supporters, such as Dr.
Benjamin Spock and the Rev. William Sloane Coffin, carried all the cards
into the building and deposited them in the attorney general’s office.
For that, and for the church service, Spock, Coffin, Mitchell Goodman,
Marc Raskin and I were indicted 10 weeks later in Boston federal court
for conspiracy to aid, abet and counsel young men to violate the draft
law.
Bob Gregson Then: Army, stationed at Fort Myer, adjacent to the Pentagon. Now: Retired organic farmer
I
had been an infantry platoon leader in the 173rd Airborne Brigade, the
first Army ground combat unit deployed to Vietnam in 1965. I was wounded
in action late that year and in the same battle lost many men,
including two dear friends from West Point. So two years later I was not
very pleased to see what seemed to be complete disrespect for their
lives and service playing out around the Pentagon.
George Kirby Marine on weekend leave.
I
wouldn’t have been in Washington that weekend, or any other weekend,
but: I was stationed at Camp Lejeune, N.C. Friday afternoons for a few
dollars Marines who had cars would take riders where they were going. It
was called “swooping,” and D.C. was a popular destination. We were
warned — ordered — not to go near the march because there might be
trouble with the protesters. But I decided to along anyway, to see what
it was all about.
Joanne Seay Byrd Then: College student. Now: Retired teacher.
I
am a female. I am black. I traveled to D.C. with a bus of veterans
against the war. I think this was a difficult time for a black person to
join this movement. Some would view it as abandoning the civil rights
cause to become part of another cause. There was still a draft and many
blacks had family members or friends in the war. This was personal for
so many whose family progress was dependent upon military benefits and
history. Though not the case in my experience, I felt their pain and the
cost of non-allegiance to such an emotional cause. Nonetheless, I was
eager to take a stand against what I perceived as illegal and immoral.
James Anderson Then: Post-doctoral student. Now: Professor of cognitive science at Brown
During
our late-night drive from Cambridge, Mass., to Washington, around 3
a.m. I looked out the window of our bus. What I saw then still forms a
vivid picture in my mind. Behind us and ahead of us I saw bus after bus
heading south through the darkness. They were going to Washington for
the same reason I was.
The Route of the March
WASHINGTON D.C.
White House
VIRGINIA
State Department
Lincoln Memorial
THE NATIONAL MALL
ARLINGTON
MEMORIAL BRIDGE
Reflecting Pool
Tidal Basin
Route of the march
Oct. 21
ARLINGTON NATIONAL
CEMETERY
North parking lot
Mall entrance
Jefferson
Davis Hwy.
Pentagon
Potomac River
1/2 Mile
Saturday, Oct. 21
The March
The first event of the day was a rally at the Lincoln Memorial,
with a lectern set in the same spot where the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther
King Jr. and others had spoken during the March on Washington four years
earlier. Meanwhile, soldiers, Defense Department civilians and
reporters gathered across the river and waited to see if the tens of
thousands of people massed on the Mall would in fact march on the
Pentagon.
Jack Walker Then: Marine captain. Now: Retired lawyer.
I
slept on my friend’s couch Friday night, and rose early to run. As I
ran, I witnessed the morning preparations of both the march organizers
and the government defenders. I couldn’t believe what I saw. It looked
like prep for battle. Armed soldiers were building barricades, filling
sandbags, raising fences, digging trenches, rolling out communication
wire, positioning troops. Armored vehicles were everywhere.
Jane Ophoff Then: College student. Now: Retired musician.
Four
of us drove to the rally all night long from Gerald Ford’s conservative
city of Grand Rapids in a peach-colored VW Beetle on loan from a
favorite college professor. We wolfed down coffee and doughnuts and
headed straight to the Lincoln Memorial. We joined a large group of good
people: parents with young children, disabled vets and a very special
80-year-old woman wearing high silver boots.
Albert Ihde Then: High school teacher. Now: Theater director.
As
I rounded the hill beneath the Washington Monument, the breathtaking
view before me brought to mind the exodus scene from Cecil B. DeMille’s
“The Ten Commandments.” Even wide-screen Panavision couldn’t capture
this massive expanse of humanity, stretched as far as I could see.
Jack Walker
My
friend Jeannie and I arrived at the Washington Monument and wandered
west along the reflecting pool. The streets were closed off and helmeted
police clustered near vehicles with flashing lights, visible but out of
the way. A tall, naked man was wading in the pool, waving a big
American flag, trailed by skinny, hooting boys.
Don Berges Then: Radio reporter at the Pentagon and part-time college student. Now: Retired construction manager.
The
press parking area behind the Pentagon that morning was nearly
deserted, presided over by a dour Air Force major who examined my news
media credentials and directed me to the press office entrance on the
other side of the huge five-sided building. He denied my request to
shortcut through the building. I would have to walk all the way around.
This enabled me to see squads of helmeted, rifle-toting military
policeman moving into positions around the building. To my untrained eye
it looked like the Army was overdoing it, erring on the side of caution
with all these troops. Most looked anxious and younger than me. The
formal portion of the day began at 11 a.m. with music by Peter, Paul
and Mary and Phil Ochs, and speeches from organizer David Dellinger,
Spock, the comedian Dick Gregory and others.
Jack Walker
We
found a spot near the Lincoln Memorial and sat, listening to the music
and trying to follow the speeches. The snatches I heard were full of
thunder against the government.
Jane Ophoff
We
chanted “Hell, no; we won’t go.” I had a piccolo in my pocket and led a
group who followed me as I played “When Johnny Comes Marching Home
Again.”
Bill Ramsey Then: College student. Now: Peace and social justice activist.
When
a member of the British Labour Party took the stage to announce his
opposition to the war, members of the American Nazi Party rushed the
stage and turned over the lectern.
Don Berges
I
walked down the long stretch of the Pentagon’s broad ceremonial
entrance stairs toward its vista of the Potomac River and the Memorial
Bridge. Beyond was the Lincoln Memorial and the Mall. From that
distance, I couldn’t see how many people were gathered at the feet of
the Great Emancipator. The day’s big story would probably be coverage of
fiery speeches over there and the whole Pentagon angle would turn out
to be a waste of time. As the speeches wound down after 1:30,
people in the crowd began to watch for signs of movement toward the
Memorial Bridge, which would take them to the Pentagon. They didn’t have
to wait long.
Jack Walker
A
trumpet blew and the crowd began to drift toward the Potomac. Press
photographers rushed to get ahead of the flow, and antiwar banners and
signs sprouted up. Some people started chanting. It had become a
political parade.
Bill Zimmerman
Another
large contingent soon moved toward the bridge holding aloft several
25-foot banners and a host of colorful signs. They were veterans of the
Abraham Lincoln Brigade, Americans who had volunteered to fight fascism
during the Spanish Civil War in the late 1930s. As these aging heroes
passed, thousands first cheered and then joined them, eager to pick up
the torch they had carried. Soon the march stretched all the way from
the Memorial to the Pentagon, 50,000 people.
James Anderson
It
was a pleasant fall day, a good day for a short walk in the company of
friends. We formed a very earnest group, mostly young, mostly students,
all committed.
Maurice Isserman Then: High school student. Now: Professor of history at Hamilton College
Helicopters,
already as much the icon of the Vietnam War as jeeps and Sherman tanks
had been for the Second World War, whop-whop-whopped overhead, doubtless
keeping close tabs for the authorities on the progress of the march,
while reminding us of why we were there.
Nancy Kurshan Then: March organizer. Now: Social justice activist.
At
some point, the police blocked us from marching toward our preferred
route. In response we sat down on the bridge, tens of thousands of us as
far as you could see, forcing the government to yield.
Bill Zimmerman
There
was no plan about what to do when we got to the building. Some wanted
to simply stand in silent protest and defiance. Others were determined
to get inside and ransack it. A few planned to deface its outer walls.
The more whimsical spoke of “levitating” the building and “exorcising”
the evil spirits inside.
Leslie H. Gelb Then: Director of policy planning at the Pentagon. Now: President emeritus of the Council on Foreign Relations.
It was already late in the afternoon, and the building had few of us, mostly military, doing our usual Saturday labors.
Don Berges
After
an hour or so of hanging around exchanging wisecracks with other
reporters, I walked back north for another view at the story that was
probably unfolding without me across the river. I was brought up short
by what I saw. Advancing slowly toward me was a broad deep wave of
people, tens of thousands of people tightly packed the full length and
breadth of both sides of the approach highways and back across the
bridge. Though the march was not an official part of the day,
its details had been painstakingly negotiated between organizers and
the Pentagon. The marchers asked to be allowed to encircle the building;
they were refused, and told they had to stay in the North Parking Lot,
several hundred feet from the Pentagon and across the Jefferson Davis
Highway.
Maurice Isserman
Finally,
we reached the Pentagon, or that is to say, an adjoining parking lot.
Here was where the officially choreographed “resistance” was supposed to
take place. Protesters would have the option of crossing a police line,
and then submitting to arrest in orderly fashion. Everyone else would
content themselves staying within shouting (or levitating) distance.
Joanne Seay Byrd
The Pentagon area was amazing. To my young mind there was a massive crowd chanting and marching.
Don Berges
Some
were of an older generation, neatly dressed and smiling, advancing arm
in arm with new friends, content and secure in their beliefs,
occasionally chanting in unison polite slogans urging an immediate end
to the conflict. Others were young, loud and angry; a few wielded crude
signs with words so profane I would not dare repeat on the air. By
4 p.m. the bulk of the marchers had arrived. Between them and the
building stood a line of military police, and behind them federal
marshals. Several prominent marchers mounted a flatbed truck and gave
speeches. Off to the sides were temporary chain-link fences. Almost
immediately, tensions among the crowd began to rise.
Noam Chomsky
I
was with a group of somewhat older people, suits and ties. While
gathering near the Pentagon, facing a line of soldiers, we took turns
with the mike.
Noam
Chomsky, third from left, marches with others including Norman Mailer,
Robert Lowell, Sidney Lens, Dagmar Wilson and Dr. Benjamin Spock. Fred W. McDarrah/Getty Images
Jim Laurie Then: College student and part-time radioreporter. Now: Media consultant.
Standing
on a flatbed [press] truck positioned near Corridor 7 at the Pentagon’s
mall entrance, microphone attached to my two-way, I looked out over a
vast sea of people. Helmeted military police, bayonets affixed to their
rifles, and federal marshals faced thousands of protesters.
Stan Roberts Army Security Agency staff member.
I
was allowed to walk up to the roof and move to the flat part over the
main entrance where the protest march ended. There were a number of
snipers on the roof along with a few civilians whom I assumed were
F.B.I., since they were using binoculars to search the crowd and
identify known “subversives.” I heard them call out a few names, so they
did locate some people of interest to their group.
Bill Ramsey
A
young woman plucked a flower from her hair and stepped forward, placing
it in the barrel of a soldier’s rifle. I heard the click of a camera’s
shutter. The young soldier looked confused, his eyes riveted on the
flower. His face seemed to mirror the same fear that I felt. I wondered,
did he also feel trapped?
Sharon Smith
I
was saddened, though not surprised, to come face-to-face with
weapons-toting military men. Some girls pushed daisies into their rifle
barrels. I wondered if the soldiers wished they could fire on us, or
secretly applauded our efforts to protect them from being sent off to
die for a bunch of greedy rich old men.
Bill Ramsey
Several demonstrators, apparently expecting what was to come and having arrived prepared, put on football helmets.
Don Berges
Every
so often a demonstrator wormed past the line of soldiers and ran in
arm-waving triumph toward the building until roughly tackled and hauled
off by the authorities.
Michael Kazin Then: College student. Now: Professor of history at Georgetown University and editor of Dissent.
Paul
Millman, a Students for a Democratic Society activist I knew, somehow
got hold of a bullhorn and began a monologue of remarkable gentleness
and persuasiveness. They were pleas to the Gis to recognize the immoral
and futile nature of the war, to lay down their rifles and join us.
After Paul went on like this for fifteen minutes or so, a small miracle
of resistance occurred. I saw one soldier put down his weapon and his
helmet and actually walk into the welcoming crowd. Then a second man did
the same — or I think he did. We all wanted so badly for such a mutiny
to occur that we interpreted any movement by a G.I., any anxious
shuffling of feet or replacement of one man in line by another as a
giant step toward pulling the United States out of Indochina and stoking
the fires of revolt at home.
Leslie H. Gelb
No
one in the building that day had much, if any, sympathy for the
protesters, especially those waving Viet Cong flags. It was one thing to
be against the war and another to wave those flags. As the
crowd gathered, several hundred protesters, led by Allen Ginsberg, Abbie
Hoffman and the Fugs, a politically oriented band from New York,
attempted to “levitate” the Pentagon. Through a sound system mounted on a
truck, the band and Ginsberg led the crowd in an elaborate chant.
Nancy Kurshan
Ed
Sanders and Tuli Kupferberg of the Fugs, decked out in multicolored
capes, provided the music. Ginsberg opened the ceremony with what would
become his hallmark “Ommmmmmmmm.” Others led incantations of “Out,
demons, out!”
Trudi Schutz Then: American Friends Service Committee staff member. Now: Executive and career coach.
We wanted to raise that symbol of the war off its foundation and say yes to what we believed America stood for.
James Anderson
Nothing
happened to the Pentagon, not even a twitch. Not many demonstrators
paid attention. However, the planned exorcism, the visual image and its
overall weirdness played well in the press. Some justified their use by
claiming the absurdity of the war should be matched by the absurdity of
matching actions. Unfortunately, absurdity also provided a good argument
for those hostile to the demonstration to dismiss, ignore and
discourage the participation of serious people with serious criticisms
of bad government policy. By 5 p.m., the crowd’s joy at
having reached the Pentagon was fading, replaced by fear among some and a
determination among others to instigate a confrontation. The situation
grew confused; a number of tear gas grenades were set off, reportedly by
accident, while a contingent of protesters tried to make an end run
around the soldiers and marshals toward the Pentagon. Federal marshals
began arresting people, including Mailer and Chomsky.
Jane Ophoff
It was clear that we had reached an impasse between a teach-in and a standoff.
Joanne Seay Byrd
All
was good until the first bayonet I had ever seen was wielded by a
guardsman poised to deflect our advancement to the Pentagon wall.
Noam Chomsky
I
happened to be speaking when the soldiers suddenly put on gas masks and
started advancing forward to clear the crowd. Everyone sat down. Not
knowing what to do, I kept talking — to the strangest-looking audience
I’ve ever faced. Marshals took or dragged everyone to waiting vans. My
audience of gas masks passed by me and I kept talking to a wall of the
Pentagon, which I’m sure was most responsive. Until my turn came.
Joanne Seay Byrd
People began to scatter. Contact was lost between friends and groups.
Jane Ophoff
The
great majority realized that it was time to disperse just as a radical
element of protesters revealed their intentions, broke through barriers
and ran toward the Pentagon.
Bill Zimmerman
As
they turned toward the building, they encountered the first of two
temporary fences. They immediately tore down part of it, which separated
the parking lot from the grounds of the Pentagon itself. Marshals
rushed over and forced them back.
Maurice Isserman
A
few dozen protesters charged up the hillside and the steps, actually
making it into the building before being beaten back. Hundreds, then
thousands, followed in their steps.
Don Berges
I
had just picked up the phone in the press room and dialed a station in
Florida when there was a big uproar outside. Loud noises came from
objects hurled against the building’s doors and walls. Guards struggled
to secure the big doors against a bellowing offshoot of the crowd trying
to charge through the entrance.
Maurice Isserman
I
thought about what I should do for a few seconds until, saying goodbye
to my uncle and aunt, I loped up the hillside after the others. By the
time I reached the beachhead before the Pentagon steps, the opening
behind me had been sealed. For better or worse, I was committed.
A scuffle between military police and protesters outside the Pentagon. Associated PressFor
the next two hours, the crowd battled with the military and marshals,
until most of the fencing had been torn down. Soon the crowd, by then
about 20,000 people, was within 30 yards of the Pentagon, face to face
with a line of bayonet-wielding military police.
Bill Zimmerman
We
sat down by the thousands on the grass or pavement directly in front of
them. I was in the first row, and like others, I talked to the soldiers
immediately opposite me about the war and why we were there to protest
it. Some of the young soldiers were hostile, but many were ill at ease,
unaccustomed to what they were experiencing and ambivalent about those
of us confronting them.
Sharon Smith
I
sang along to “We Shall Overcome.” It felt glorious to be part of a
massive, peaceful gathering of like-minded folks. The chant started:
“Hell, no. We won’t go!” I joined in — but realized no one was asking me
to go. Back then, there were no female-inclusive anti-war chants. OK,
we weren’t being drafted; but we girls and women were protesting the
senseless potential loss of our friends, husbands, brothers, cousins and
sons.
Maurice Isserman
“It
is difficult to report publicly the ugly and vulgar provocation of many
of the militants,” The New York Times’ James Reston wrote about what
happened next, in a front-page think piece for the newspaper two days
later. “They spat on some of the soldiers in the front line at the
Pentagon and goaded them with the most vicious personal slander.” That’s
not the way I remember it, and interestingly, it’s not the way that The
Times’ reporters who were actually on the scene on Oct. 21 reported it —
there is no mention of spitting in either The Times’ or The Washington
Post’s news stories on Oct. 22.
Bill Zimmerman
A
short distance to my right protesters stood up and moved closer to the
troops. M.P.s emerged from behind the paratroopers. Their rifles had no
bayonets but were held at their waists pointed up at an angle, directly
at the heads of the demonstrators standing face to face in front of
them. No one backed off.
Don Berges
The
atmosphere was rapidly metastasizing into one of potential violence. No
doubt I wasn’t the only one who held my breath when a young man among
the protesters took a half-step forward, improbably produced a flower
and inserted its stem into the barrel of a rifle pointed at him.
A protester inserts flowers into the rifle barrels of military police near the Pentagon. Bernie Boston/The Washington Post, via Getty Images
Bill Zimmerman
Calmly,
he moved down the line of M.P.s and put each of his flowers into a
different rifle barrel. This symbolic act was caught on film and the
resulting photo splashed across front pages throughout the country the
next day. As evening set in, many in the crowd began to peel
off, either from fatigue, fear of further clashes or both. Meanwhile,
the hundreds of arrestees were taken to an impromptu processing center
behind the Pentagon. Some were released; others, including Mailer and
Chomsky, were sent to the jail in Occoquan, Va. At 10:30, the military
police on the front line were replaced by soldiers from nearby Fort
Meyer.
Bill Ramsey
With
the standoff uncertain but feeling clearly unsafe, I “jumped ship.”
Actually, I jumped a wall by the landing’s side stairs and headed up the
embankment to the southbound highway. Relieved to be out of the fray, I
stuck out my thumb. A red sports car stopped, and the young driver
asked me where I was headed. When I said “High Point, North Carolina,”
he responded, “I’m headed back to Camp Lejeune — get in.” Knowing Camp
Lejeune to be a Marine base near the North Carolina coast, I warily
lowered myself into the passenger seat. He asked, “Where have you been?”
With not much more than a murmur, I answered, “The Pentagon.” And he
said, “Thanks. I was there, too.” He told me that he was expecting
orders to be deployed to Vietnam any day and that this was his first,
and maybe last, chance to speak out.
Nancy Kurshan
As
the sun went down, it became cooler and cooler. The crowd was getting
younger and younger. We were on our own. The protection of the older
generation was disappearing.
George Kirby
It
seemed like a couple hundred buses were waiting to pick the
demonstrators up right next to the Pentagon. I’d spoken to three coeds
earlier. I walked near them as they searched for their bus. One looked
at my short hair and neat civilian shirt and asked, “Are you in the
service?” I replied in my best military manner, “Yes, ma’am, I just got
back from Nam. I’m what you are demonstrating against.” The girl
replied, “We’re not against you. Marines have really cool uniforms.” And
they hurried off to find their bus.
Jane Ophoff
Like
most others, we were committed to nonviolence, left the scene
immediately and found a cheap motel room, where 10 of us packed in with
the sleeping bags we had brought. In the morning we would find out that
our peaceful rally and march had devolved into an overnight clash during
which hundreds were arrested.
Bill Zimmerman
We
made bonfires with the picket signs carried earlier. Impromptu speakers
used bullhorns to urge the paratroopers to switch sides. We wanted our
soldiers to abandon the government and join us, as Russian soldiers had
in 1917. Around 9 p.m., one did. A single trooper dropped his rifle,
threw down his helmet and advanced into the crowd of protesters. Before
he got far, he was seized from behind and led away. We never found out
what happened to him.
Nancy Kurshan
We
were on a mission and we knew we were right. We looked to the right and
we looked to the left and we knew that all of us would remain up until
the point of arrest. For hours there was an impromptu teach-in to the
troops. People climbed up on a ledge and, using a bullhorn, spoke to the
troops. There was an open mike (well, actually a bullhorn) for anyone
who wanted to speak. I did not have the confidence to speak, but I was
very proud of what people said.
Noam Chomsky
Most
of those arrested were young, uncertain, tense. The emotional pitch was
high [in the jail in Occoquan]. There were some calls for actions that
could have caused major problems. Mailer intervened quietly, decisively,
with a touch of low-keyed and effective mockery, helping to restore a
mood of serious dedication and to avert self-destructive militancy, an
intervention of no small significance.
Pat Graves Army, in reserve at Fort Myer in Arlington, Va.
My
unit did not move to the Pentagon until 10:30 p.m. We were not issued
ammunition, but it was kept a short distance away. The troops were
issued gas grenades. This gave me some anxious moments. Demonstrators
could easily grab grenades off the soldiers’ web gear. In fact that
happened to troops from other units earlier in the day.
Bill Zimmerman
Soon,
I saw draft cards being burned. Many young men in the crowd had not yet
taken that step. In the eerie scene, with bonfires encircling the
Pentagon, they found the inspiration to do so. Over 200 draft cards went
up in smoke.
Bob Gregson
Two
things struck me most during that long chilly night as we stood,
shoulder to shoulder, with unloaded rifles facing the crowd. First was
the hostility of a very few demonstrators. One young man in particular
spent the night putting his face within inches of the faces of our
soldiers and staring at them, seemingly ready to spit in their faces.
Second, our guys couldn’t respond verbally or physically, so it was very
hard on each of them in turn. I was terribly proud of their
self-control. After all, most of our men were draftees and perhaps had
varying levels of sympathy for the protesters, but that man’s actions
drew a lot of curses later on. My first sergeant — also an injured
Vietnam combat vet — became enraged by that young man’s conduct and
tried to jam his rifle under our troops’ legs from behind the perimeter
to hit the shoes of that man. But the young guy simply hopped left or
right and continued his mental and physical harassment.
Nancy Kurshan
The
soldiers would every now and then make forays into the front of the
crowd, clubbing a few people and dragging a few others away to be
arrested. We sat, arms locked as tight as possible, to impede them as
much as possible and to protect one another. In the end they dragged
away everyone who remained. Well over a thousand people were arrested,
with 780 of us held and several hundred released.
Bob Gregson
Every
now and then during the night there would come the word that the
demonstrators would attack at a certain part of the perimeter. The klieg
lights from the flatbed press trailer would come on, the marshals
standing behind our perimeter would rush over to that area with their
batons, and a surge would happen. When some broke through our lines the
marshals would whack them and, I assume, arrest them.
Nadya Williams Then: Activist. Now: Veterans for Peace member.
We
stayed all night on the Pentagon steps, with tear gas wafting around
us. In one of those surreal memories, I can still see Secretary of
Defense Robert McNamara watching us, silhouetted, with a bright light
behind him, on a lower Pentagon balcony. I imagined I could even see the
distinctive part in his hair!
Pat Graves
From
11:45 to 12:30 the marshals pushed our troops forward from behind in
order to push the protesters back, gaining 30 feet. Bob [Gregson] and I
did not like this action by the marshals. We were in command of
our companies, not them. The marshals were too aggressive, often
reaching between our soldiers to hit protesters with their batons.
Jim Laurie
After
midnight Sunday morning, tens of thousands had dwindled to several
hundred hard core activists. They were ready to be taken off to jail.
Marshals barked orders. Demonstrators sang “America the Beautiful” and
“We Shall Overcome.” M.P.’s carried them into police wagons.
Photo
Outside the Pentagon during the demonstrations.
Credit
Associated Press
Sunday, Oct. 22 and Afterward
What Did it Mean?
The morning broke cold, in the high 30s. About 400 to 500 protesters had
stayed overnight, facing off against the same contingents of soldiers
and marshals. To pressure the protesters to leave, the marshals got more
aggressive, at one point dousing some protesters with water from a
hose, among other measures to make them uncomfortable enough to leave.
Pat Graves
In
another show of aggression, several of the marshals took our soldiers’
canteens and poured water behind the line. The pavement sloped toward
the demonstrators. Wet clothing added to the discomfort of the
demonstrators, who were sitting and lying on the ground. The
demonstrators built numerous fires to ward off the chill.
Trudi Schutz
I got pneumonia.
Nadya Williams
Toward
what must have been around 6 a.m., the crowd (and, perhaps, the
Mobilization’s leaders) decided to beat a “dignified retreat,” as we all
stood up and walked back over the bridge as the day was dawning.
Frankly, I was much relieved to be leaving, as it was very apparent that
we were “going to get our asses kicked” if we stayed on the entrance
steps into the Pentagon during daylight.
Bob Gregson
Soon
after daylight, the commanding general gave the order to clear out the
remaining demonstrators from the entry area. That was a welcome command!
We rushed forward on exhausted legs that had seemingly locked in place,
and the remaining demonstrators ran away.
Nancy Kurshan
I
was arrested alongside Anita Hoffman [the wife of Abbie Hoffman]. It
was the first time either of us had been under arrest. I would later
learn that it was a very atypical arrest experience. They took hundreds
of us, all women, to what seemed to be a huge dormitory. There were
scores and scores of cots lined up next to each other, like being in a
huge summer camp. Anita and I were able to stay together and were on
cots right alongside each other. The camaraderie was palpable and
exciting. After spending the night on our cots, we were herded to court
and as counseled by our movement lawyers, we pleaded nolo contendere.
This was worked out between the government and our lawyers. We did what
we were advised, paid a small fine and went home.
Pat Graves
Before
we departed, Bob Gregson’s company surged forward and captured a large
yellow submarine. It measured approximately eight feet long, three feet
wide and four feet tall at the conning tower. Its rounded wooden frame
was made with two-by-fours, covered with stiff canvas painted yellow
with red trim. The Beatles’ “Yellow Submarine” had become a rallying
song for some anarchists. With an eye to history, Bob had his troops
retrieve the craft for presentation to the Smithsonian. Unfortunately,
his first sergeant had no appreciation of history and had it destroyed.
Bob Gregson
The final box score: zero killed; zero wounded; one submarine captured; zero artifacts left for future generations.
Bill Zimmerman
At
first light, only several hundred remained, but we had escaped arrest
and injury and believed we had made our point. We got up, formed a line
and marched three miles to the White House. It was early and we wanted
to wake up, or at least shake up, President Johnson. We paraded under
his windows until motorcycle cops drove us off with nightsticks. But we
were there long enough to make sure Johnson heard the chant that by then
had become emblematic of the antiwar movement: “Hey, hey, L.B.J., how
many kids did you kill today?”
Nadya Williams
I
managed to get on a bus home and remember a stop at a Howard Johnson’s
restaurant. In the women’s restroom, several young women had their heads
in the sink to try to wash the blood off their skulls and out of their
hair from the rifle-butt blows from the guards at the top of the steps. The
march on the Pentagon probably did not make much of an impact on public
opinion about the war, but participants roundly say that it galvanized
their own role in the antiwar movement, and in many cases inspired them
to a life of progressive activism.
Leslie H. Gelb
It
wasn’t the howls outside [the Pentagon] that caused some of us to begin
raising questions about that horrific war. That began in a sustained
and serious way only in early 1968, after the Communist Tet Offensive.
By that time, it seemed the protesters knew something we didn’t.
James Anderson
It
was, and still is, unclear to me that the Pentagon demonstration
accomplished as much as it might have. However it did show clearly that
the intensity of public dislike of the war was growing rapidly. In the
next two years demonstrations went in size from perhaps 100,000
participants at the Pentagon to millions in the worldwide Moratorium
demonstrations of 1969. Politicians noticed and eventually responded.
Jane Ophoff
Our
participation was not a sophomore lark. We felt that by adding our
peaceful presence to our strong convictions, we had been part of
something important, a movement that grew and eventually succeeded in
turning the tide against the war. We felt proud and patriotic, as I
still do 50 years later.
Nancy Kurshan
In
the end, the victory was really a result of the energy and the numbers
of the people that participated. Even the children of officials in the
Johnson administration were joining us. In a political sense the country
was now really at war with itself. This realization seemed to hold
within itself the possibility that we could end the war with Vietnam.
Bill Ramsey
In
many ways, the sun has never set on that long stretch of a day, and I
have remained on that crowded Pentagon landing — launched for a
lifetime. David Greenberg,
a professor of history and of journalism and media studies at Rutgers,
is the author of “Republic of Spin: An Inside History of the American
Presidency. Subscribe to the Vietnam ‘67 newsletter.
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