Dear Friend,

       Do you believe the countdown to war has begun? I do.
       Why? First there are the signs we’ve all seen and heard:

          – the congressional war resolution;
          – the steady buildup of weapons and equipment in the Gulf area;
          – the brushing aside of dissenters, whether they be generals, former secretaries of state, even a Nobel peace laureate ex-president, not to mention a full-throat chorus in the United Nations.
          – And of course, the election is now out of the way.

       Yes, we’ve all seen and heard these.
       But second, this past month in Fayetteville there were a couple signs others didn’t see. And they’re a big part of why I’m asking for your renewed support of Quaker House, as a forward outpost of Friends peace witness.
      One sign came out of the blue, when the doorbell rang on a quiet Fall afternoon. On the porch stood a tall Airborne paratrooper in full combat uniform: shiny black boots, green camouflage uniform, red beret. "I want to find out how to file a conscientious objector claim," he said.
      "Come in," I shook his hand. "That’s what we do here. No charge."
      Let’s call him Adam. "I was in Afghanistan, last summer," he added when we sat down. What he saw there sickened him. War solves nothing, he decided then, and he wanted nothing more to do with it.
     Even so, Adam will probably face war again soon: he’s in line to be shipped out at a moment’s notice, this next time to Iraq. He said that almost all the equipment and weaponry for a pre-emptive attack is already in place, much of it in Afghanistan.
     Adam expects the invasion to start before year’s end. He’d be sent in as an infantryman, one of those likely to end up fighting block-by-block in Baghdad. Could Quaker House be of any help, he asked?
     Well, at least we can offer GIs like him accurate information, and encouragement to follow their conscience. I showed him the detailed Army regulations about conscientious objector claims, and reviewed the Pentagon’s elaborate procedures for handling them. I made him copies of old Quaker House newsletters describing the experiences of previous Army COs.
     As we talked, Adam became increasingly curious about Quaker House, and Quakers. Who, he wondered aloud, would set up and sustain a place like this, talking peace, conscience and resistance in a flag-waving Army town like Fayetteville?
     Good question! The answer, of course, is: You.
     And we still need your help to keep doing it.
     Switching to Outreach mode, I handed him some brochures on Quakerism, talked about the Peace Testimony, and invited him to meeting. When Adam left, I wished him well, but with a sinking feeling.
      I had tried to tell him the truth, which is that his way forward won’t be easy: At its best the Army takes months to process a CO claim, and as war gets closer, the brass shows ever less sympathy for them.
     So Adam could well face orders to board a flight to Iraq before any decision on a CO claim could be made. Then what? If he gets on the plane, he may well find himself in a war that not only threatens his life but also violates his conscience. If he refuses, he’ll likely end up behind bars.
     Quaker House can’t save him from this cruel dilemma. What we can offer, besides the good information (which the Army won’t), is some relief from his spiritual and emotional isolation, and help finding a civilian attorney if it comes to that. Plus we can follow up to see what happens.
     This is what we do; it’s our form of "front-line" Friends peace witness. That’s how Quaker House started in 1969, as a response to a GI named Dean Holland, who also wanted to be a CO. But then he had to hitch-hike 75 miles from Fayetteville to the Friends Meeting in Chapel Hill to find someone ready to listen to his plea.
     Dean Holland got the Friendly help he needed, his CO claim succeeded, and he became the first Director of Quaker House. At one time there were dozens of GI projects like it near bases around the country; but they’re all gone now, victims of repression, emptied bank accounts and burnout.
     Quaker House has had its own trials: a firebombing, military and FBI spying, staff turnover, budget troubles. But Friends don’t give up easily. And 32 years later Adam found us on the web, still here, right across town from his barracks.
     If there’s no way to know what Adam will face in the coming months, we can be sure of one thing: Unlike Dean Holland, he won’t be alone–as of last June, GI calls to our counseling line were up 20 per cent over 2001. (We had 3200 calls last year; we’re on a pace to take 4000+ in 2002. A summary of this call data is on the last page.)
     That’s where the other sign comes in: it was a call from Washington DC and the Center On Conscience and War, one of our sister groups. They were convening an emergency meeting of GI counselors, to talk about how to cope with a war-induced influx of new CO claims and cases. If the army is mobilizing, we better be too.
     We’re already feeling the impact. Besides making more work for me and our two counselors, Steve Woolford and Lenore Yarger, it’s increasing many of our costs: telephone, transportation, printing, postage, training. And with this there will be more need for your support.
     After all, GI counseling is not all we do here. Quaker House had its start amid an active local antiwar struggle. In fact, last spring we rediscovered and displayed the suppressed history of the Vietnam-era GI peace movement here at Ft. Bragg. (You can see much of the resulting exhibit at these pages.)
     The heady days of the Sixties may not be returning soon, but the peace movement is alive and growing. All of us here are involved: vigils at the gates of Ft. Bragg; local programs; peace workshops for meetings and churches; talking with young Friends and parents about draft/CO issues. More of all of these is coming.
     Wars are like that around here: too much work, not enough money. Our board recently adopted a budget for 2003 which anticipates a $16,000 increase in expenses (with, for the record, no staff pay raises; a financial summary is on the last page). Given what’s coming, this expense figure looks realistic to me.
     I also hope it’s realistic to think we can raise this much. But we can’t do it without you.
     Quaker House has always depended on generous tax-deductible donations from concerned individuals and meetings. This year, though, we’re caught between recessionary financial stresses on one side, and the some of the domestic victims of war on the other. How will we cope? The same way Quaker House staff has for 32 years: pray, work, and appeal to you for as generous a response as you can manage.
     vPlease do your best, and with God’s help, we’ll do ours.

PS. While writing this, the phone rang again. It was another GI, one we’ve been working with for almost a year. He applied for CO status last spring, just before his first child was born. Now he’s expecting orders to Afghanistan anytime, and isn’t sure whether to go or refuse. Whatever he decides, we’re going to walk with him, his wife and young son as long as it takes. Will you help us?

Send Tax-deductible contributions to:
Quaker House, 223 Hillside Avenue
Fayetteville NC 28301

Quaker House GI Hotline Calls–Going Up:

Call Totals for June 2001 & 2002

CO Calls to GI Hotline, June-August

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