On August 10, as a part of the Witness Against War walk, thirteen of us attempted to walk onto the grounds of Fort McCoy, located near Sparta, Wisconsin. We were hoping to speak to the National Guard troops who are trained at Fort McCoy. We were also hoping to give them a letter to let them know that the government's authorization to deploy the National Guard (the war powers resolution of 2002) has expired and was not renewed.
During the walk, I had met many people whose loved ones, members of the Wisconsin National Guard, had been deployed over and over again. This is very hard on the members of the National Guard and on their family, friends, co-workers, and employers. Those encounters spurred me to choose to go onto the grounds of Fort McCoy and speak with the soldiers, as someone who wanted the best for them.
I feel that the National Guard is needed at home. During times of natural disaster, it is the National Guard that we call on to take care of our needs.
When the thirteen of us arrived at the main gate of Fort McCoy, we were met by police, who told us not to pass a barrier that they had established. We did pass the barrier and we were arrested and charged with trespass. Shortly after we were processed, we were issued tickets and were released.
On January 12th, we had our trial before Magistrate Judge Stephen Crocker in Madison, Wisconsin. We each had a chance to speak our piece... peace... and were found guilty and fined $75 each.
Below is a copy of my court statement:
Since I returned to Western New York in September after completing the 500-mile Witness Against War walk from
I walk for exercise and to find interesting things to photograph for the Grand Island Dispatch. I work as a freelance photographer and reporter for that newspaper.
Sometimes on my walks, I see parents walking or riding on bicycles with their kids. I see people catching fish, or at least trying to. I see people walking dogs. I see people jogging in all kinds of weather, even in snow and wind. During my weekday walks, I see kids returning home from school. I see kids playing on the slides and climbing equipment at the nearby playground.
In other words, I experience normal every day life on my walks.
Last summer, I had similar experiences. I saw bicyclists and joggers and kids going to summer school.
But a few incidents served to remind me that the lives of many of our friends and neighbors are far from normal. One of those incidents occurred in
In another town, we were at a church for a potluck dinner. A woman there looked at me, wanting to talk. I could see sadness in her eyes and feel heartbreak in her voice as she told me that her son had been killed in
On August 10, 2008, I went with a group to the gates of
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