By Ramona Byron

 Mike and I drove from Oceanside to San Francisco on Friday, January 17^th, to attend the anti-war demonstration there on January 18, 2003.   We arrived early enough to walk to China  and look around.  We then repaired to a small bar near our hotel, where we engaged in great conversations with the locals.  We met a veteran of WW-II, who had been a gunner on bombers flying over Germany.  He didn’t think we should be going to war against Iraq, either. 

The next morning, we were met at our hotel by our friend John-Erik, also from the San Diego area. We took a taxi to the demonstration gathering point, because we thought we were running late.  The taxi driver said that the city was expecting about 50,000 protesters that day.  We were psyched about that.  Unfortunately, we had left all of our sign materials in our car, and I even forgot our American flags in the taxi. 

When we arrived at the Justin Herman Plaza at about 10:00, there were about 1,000 people milling around.  It was more than the first demonstration that we had done in March 2001, against the illegitimacy of the Bush administration (that was about 800).  We were disappointed, thinking that the huge crowd of 50,000 that we’d expected wasn’t going to show.  But then we learned that we were an entire hour early!  The demonstration was going to begin at 11:00.

We walked around looking for sign materials, and finally found some ready-made signs that we could buy.  We used John-Erik’s red marker to put on the back of our signs:  “San Diego Veterans for Peace.” 

[Note: Mike Byron is in picture above wearing Monticello sweat shirt.] People were milling around and we were in the exact center of the crowd, so we weren’t really aware of how fast the crowd was growing.  At about 10:20, I climbed up on a wall to take a picture.  I was astonished!  I saw people streaming into the plaza by the hundreds from every direction!  The crowd appeared to be at about 5,000 at that point.  The diversity of the crowd was remarkably large.  We saw Moslem women wearing headscarves, monks in cassocks, people of every race, and people of every age.  There were even a few friendly, anti-war dogs.

As we were waiting for the speeches to begin, Mike looked at me and said, “You know, even as we’re standing here protesting Bush’s war, our young people are landing right now in the Gulf region to fight it.”  His eyes were filled with tears.  He added sadly, “Some of them were my students.”  Mike teaches political science, and a lot of his classes were held on the local Marine base in Oceanside.  I couldn’t really comfort him, since I felt like crying, too.  I just patted him on the arm.

When it came time for the initial speakers to begin, the crowd had grown so huge that it was stretching down Market Street as far as we could see, and completely filling it up from side to side.  It had also spilled across the Embarcadero, with people standing in the median and on the opposite side.  Once in awhile during the speeches, we heard a strange buzzing sound, like a horde of angry bees coming in our direction.  Mike and I looked at each other, puzzled.  Then we realized that it was the very distant sound of thousands of voices lifted up simultaneously in a roar of protest against the illegitimate Bush regime and his immoral war for Iraq’s oil.

As we were listening to the speakers, someone came up and tapped me on the shoulder.  He had seen my sign “San Diego Veterans for Peace,” and invited us to join the larger group of Veterans for Peace.  We went there and were delighted to find ourselves among VFW and American Legion members, carrying flags and large banners.  John-Erik was welcomed by the group, too, since he was a veteran of the Finnish army.

By the time that we were supposed to be marching to the Civic Center about two miles away, the representative of ANSWER announced that we were already there!  The crowd had grown so huge that it completely filled Market Street all the way to our destination!  ANSWER had a helicopter hovering overhead, and the estimated size of the crowd was over 200,000!

It was difficult to get started marching.  Our group of veterans moved to the center of Market Street and waited for the crowd in front to begin marching.  Eventually, we saw another set of Veterans for Peace who were making good progress by going up the sidewalk.  We hurried over to join them, and finally we were on the move!

The throng in the street was enormous.  It was shoulder-to-shoulder people completely filling the street.  We were accompanied by many marching bands and groups with various instruments that played spirited music and beat their drums continuously.  We saw huge puppets of peace doves being “flown” in the middle of the street.  They looked spooky, sort of like huge white ghosts. 

A Madonna-like young woman was sitting on a wall in the middle of the street, blessing all of us as we passed by her.  I felt warm inside.

We passed by a belly dancer -- I’m not sure what kind of political statement that was, but she looked good doing it.  We passed a Death-headed guy who was dancing with missiles.  Near him was someone’s sign with Bush on both sides, saying on one side “Got Oil?” and on the other side “Got Terror?”

A huge banner passed by us, asking, “Hey, George, who would Jesus bomb?”  There were a lot of signs saying things like "America Needs a Regime Change,”  “Bush, Cheney, Rumsfeld – Empty Warheads,”  “No Blood for Oil,”  “Drop Bush, Not Bombs,” etc.  The signs and slogans were quite creative.

The atmosphere in the street was very festive and fun.  There was music, dancing, drumming, noisemaking and shouting.  It reminded me of being at Mardi Gras in New Orleans.  Every once in awhile, a huge wave of a shout would begin and then spread up or down the street.  We waited for the shout to reach us, and then raised our signs and howled like wolves at the moon!  It was very cathartic.  It is simply amazing to hear 200,000 people shouting together!

 When we arrived at the Civic Center area, the place was jam-packed with people.  I was feeling uncomfortable because it had been about 5 hours since we left the hotel, and I couldn’t find a port-a-john anywhere!  Also, the press of the crowd made me feel claustrophobic.  I left Mike in the crowd and went up the street to find a restaurant with a bathroom.  I walked into a small restaurant with my “No War on Iraq” sign, and bought some lunch.  The place was small, so I asked permission to sit at a large table where just one African-American man was sitting.  He said somewhat grumpily, “Sit anywhere you want.”  I put down my no-war sign and my lunch tray and sat down.  I wanted to strike up a conversation and socialize, but he didn’t appear to be very interested.  An elderly woman joined us after awhile, and she seemed to know the African-American man.  She asked if he had been at the big demonstration.  He said “No, I’m on the other side.” 

 Just my luck – I had to find the only African-American conservative in all of San Francisco to sit down to lunch with!  Good grief!  Then the gentleman added, “Somebody has to protect freedom.”  I said “But you know that this war is about oil, not freedom.”  He became irritated, saying “You can think anything you like and I’ll protect your right to do it.”  I told him that I had also served in the military, and had protected freedom.  He didn’t respond to that, and we all ate in silence.  I ate fast and quickly departed from the grumpy gent, making sure that my “San Diego Veterans for Peace” was facing toward him as I walked away. 

A War for Freedom?  I don’t freaking think so.  And neither did almost 1,000,000 people who were demonstrating in SF, DC, a dozen other cities, and in 36 other countries around the world on that day.  The shout of People Power that we raised in the streets that day had literally reverberated around the world!  We shall overcome!

The next demonstration is set for February 15, 2003, and we’ll be back in San Francisco for it.  We hope that one will be twice the size of January 18.   Come join us!  It’s a lot of fun, and you will feel truly blessed and privileged to have been a part of it.