War hits home across the USA;A moment forever personal

  Carolyn Pesce

  02/25/1991

  USA Today

  FINAL

  Page 07A

  (Copyright 1991)

 

  For many in the USA, the beginning of the ground war held the promise of

  completion, a chance to get past the anguish of Vietnam, and, this time, to do it

  right.

 

  For others, the escalation of the country's 10th war stirred different hopes and

  prayers: for an end to the fighting and for safe return of the troops.

 

  But for everyone Sunday, the war seemed to have become a defining moment.

 

  ``The mood which you develop inside yourself during war carries on for a

  tremendously long period of time,'' said Tim Blessing, a historian at Penn State

  University. ``Wars serve as moments in history which create the nation anew.''

 

  Atlanta

 

  News of the ground offensive came somberly - but not unexpectedly - to Auburn

  Avenue, the street where Martin Luther King Jr. was born, grew up, preached

  and planned civil rights marches. Tourists and local residents paused quietly

  beside King's raised tomb, some dipping their hands into the cool waters of a

  blue reflecting pool that surrounds it.

 

  ``It makes my heart so heavy to think about this war,'' said Marjorie Reid, 62, a

  Lanham, Md., retiree visiting the site with her husband, Hubert Reid. ``We were

  hoping this could be avoided.''

 

  Next door to King's tomb, worshipers at Ebenezer Baptist prayed for the troops,

  as others did at churches across the USA.

 

  ``We had hoped the ground offensive could have been avoided,'' said Godfrey

  Finch, 44, a church deacon and police supervisor. ``But now that our national

  leaders have decided to go ahead with it, we're fully supporting our troops.''

 

  Venice, Calif.

 

  Patriotism was high in this counterculture hub that brought the USA beachfront

  rollerblading, tarot card readings and chainsaw juggling.

 

  Turbaned guitarist Harry Perry, a longtime fixture of the kooky boardwalk scene,

  strummed a tune in front of a giant mural of the U.S. flag, as vendors hawked

  maps of the Persian Gulf.

 

  Shoppers rushed to buy jeans adorned with the stars and stripes.

 

  Mike Ree of Culver City, Calif., propped himself up on spring stilts to make his

  point: ``I stand tall on the issues.''

 

  A dozen miles east, in Hollywood, protesters draped a white sheet over the

  Hollywood sign and turned one ``O'' into a peace sign.

 

  New York

 

  With their youngest son in a tank on the front, Herbert and Karlene Beitzel

  needed to be at the Statue of Liberty.

 

  They drove to New York Saturday from Canton, Ohio, to surprise a friend for

  her 60th birthday. But with news the ground war had begun, ``We had to come

  here,'' said Karlene Beitzel, 51, who wore a sweatshirt imprinted with an

  American flag.

 

  Many who took the cold ferry ride across the New York Harbor talked of war.

 

  ``I'm glad to see that it's happened,'' said Dawn Stoops, of Little Rock, Ark. ``I

  wanted it to be over with.''

 

  Bart Rosenblatt, 33, an off-Broadway producer, was worried Saddam Hussein

  ``would withdraw, and we'd let him off. ... Even among my liberal friends'' there

  was near unanimity that the ground war had to be fought. ``And that's pretty

  unusual for New York City.''

 

  Livingston, Texas

 

  At the Veterans Of Foreign Wars Post 8568, a dozen veterans gathered at the bar

  in the back room, sipping beer and watching basketball.

 

  But the war wasn't far away.

 

  On the bar was a notice of a patriotic rally planned in nearby Crockett, Texas,

  and a stack of ``We Support Our Troops'' placards, $1 each.

 

  Bill Nerren, 60, a Navy Korean War veteran, said the post was packed Saturday

  night when President Bush went on television to announce the ground war.

 

  ``When the president asked for prayer, you couldn't find a dry eye in this post,''

  said Nerren, who supports the war but is skeptical of reports of light casualties.

  ``Suppose you're the one that got a son lost. It's no small casualty.''

 

  Washington

 

  Dozens of peace activists and homeless people camped across the street from the

  White House, beating drums or whatever else might serve the purpose: old paint

  containers, plastic milk jugs, tambourines.

 

  ``We're trying to keep Bush on edge,'' said Bob Hartwell, 38, of Boston, who

  quit his construction job to join the drum protest, which has been going on since

  December.

 

  Hartwell said protesters know the constant thumping is ``nerve-wracking'' for

  Bush.

 

  Last month, Bush reportedly told lawmakers, ``Those damned drums are keeping

  me up all night.''

 

  Another protester, Kodiak Easterwood, 35, of Louisa, Va., took a week's

  vacation three weeks ago to keep the vigil. ``You always hear the term `drums of

  war,' '' he said. ``It seems to me they can be drums of peace.''

 

  Detroit

 

  More than 200 Iraqi-Americans marched here Sunday, denouncing the ground

  campaign and blasting President Bush as a ``butcher.''

 

  ``Bush is the butcher and he shouldn't be in Kuwait,'' Samir Barka, 39, a

  Baghdad native, shouted above the chants.

 

  But many of the Arab-Americans in the Detroit area - the USA's largest

  Arab-American community - disagree.

 

  Lebanese-born Abdallah Elachi, 34, arrived in the USA 15 years ago: ``The man

  brought it upon himself by invading Kuwait. Something had to be done.''

 

  Karen Binno, 21, a U.S.-born Chaldean, or Iraqi Christian, said she got ``chills''

  when she heard that the ground war had started. ``There's already all this

  bombing, it's going to be so much worse.'' Jacksonville, N.C.

 

  For this home of Camp Lejeune, which has sent 30,000 Marines to the gulf, the

  ground war brought fear and relief.

 

  ``For us here, this is when it really started,'' says Julie Rousseau, whose husband,

  Sgt. Robert Rousseau, is aboard the USS Guam.

 

  For many of the women here, the war has meant facing the possibility of their

  husbands' deaths, forcing them to ask questions they otherwise would be too

  young to ask.

 

  ``I had to ask him, `Where do you want to be buried?'' said Debbie Daniels. Her

  husband, Larry, a Marine, is with an amphibious unit.

 

  Daniels and other military spouses live with the dreaded ritual of notifying a

  soldier's family of his death - the dress-uniformed visitor who knocks on the

  door.

 

  ``You know, it takes 24 hours for the casualty officer to notify you, so you have

  24 hours to wait,'' Daniels said. ``You have 24 hours of wondering, `Is it yours?'

  ''

 

  For everyone here, the future is uncertain - even if their husbands do come home.

 

  ``Are they going to be the same men that left?'' said Teresa Hauck, of her

  husband, Mark. ``Will my husband still be his same nutty self because he went to

  war and was forced to kill someone?''

 

  Contributing: Kathleen Bohland, Carol J. Castaneda, Haya El Nasser, Bruce

  Frankel, Deeann Glamser, Maria Goodavage, Mimi Hall, Kevin Johnson, Ann

  Koonce, John Larrabee, Jonathan T. Lovitt , Mark Mayfield, Martha T. Moore,

  Julie Morris, Thomas Raber, Bob Ross, Sally Ann Stewart.